Can We Kick Them in the Naughty Bits?

The hubs and I went to the urologist yesterday for the follow-up before his PESA (think needle in the man junk). As expected all checked out and we get to schedule the procedure for June. The hubs and I left super excited and optimistic...and now it's a day later and a lot can happen in a day.

Where's our secret handshake?

As I've mentioned before, there is a secret society of the infertile. It's a society that no one expects or wants to be a part of, but it exists nonetheless.  By being a part of it, you often live through the pain of a failed IVF/IUI (turkey baster)/monthly cycle along with those experiencing it. When one of us fails it is a not so gentle reminder that none of this is guaranteed. We are putting our hearts, souls, and bodies out there with the possibility of devastation.  I understand why there are those who don't want to talk about it. There is a shame that comes along with the inability to procreate. Isn't that what we are suppose to be able to do? We want our own baby...made with our partner. It's a roller coaster of ups and downs. Some days you feel like it is just not worth it and hate the world and other days you'd do anything just to feel a baby growing inside of you. We sometimes wonder if we are bad people because we didn't jump into adoption or that we want to bring another life into this already overpopulated world. To be honest (and no I wasn't being dishonest before), I don't often find myself in any of those scenarios anymore.  Most days I am just trying to wrap myself around the "why" of it all.

What's trending in the news...and why I am not a horrible person

I go around in circles wondering why the hubs didn't develop his vas deferens, why did our first IVF not work, and why do people that should NEVER be parents have kids so easily?

In general society doesn't comprehend the inability to get pregnant. What they see are examples like the woman who gave birth to 7 babies then suffocated them and stuck them in a box in the garage meanwhile her husband rotted in jail. Then there is the mother who tried to do and exorcism and killed her 2 children.  How about the mother who drove into the ocean with her children in the minivan...did I mention she was pregnant?  Extreme examples...I know, but I can look on any news site on any given day and find examples of horrifying parenting that makes you want to kick these people in the naughty bits. Where am I going with this?

There are people in this world that should not have kids (IMHO), but often times they do. This leads to far too many neglected, abused, and unwanted children in the world. The consensus in society is that all the infertile should rush to save these children (and often times we start to believe it). While this is noble in the simplest form, it is so much more complicated than that.  Yes, most infertile couples have at some point considered adoption but at what expense? Again, you are being to forced to open up all aspects of your life and let someone determine if you are a fit parent. Really? And who gets to make that decision? What about the cost of adoption? Unless you are adopting from the foster care system, you can bet your ass that adopting a healthy infant/toddler comes at a huge price and a long wait. The financial and emotional toll is no less daunting than infertility treatments.

All of that leads us back to the same fact...if you are infertile...you have to buy a baby.

My heart breaks for all of those children who are neglected, scared, and alone. My heart also breaks for the men and women who continue go through the heartbreak of reproductive failure. Although, adoption is not an option I want to explore at the moment, I hope that should I come to a the crossroad of a life without another child or adoption, that I would chose the latter.

Did You Miss Me?

Well here I am again....I am sure you were all sitting on the edge of you seats in anticipation of my return.

In case you were not aware this week is National Infertility Awareness Week. (I think there may be a week/day/month for just about everything that you can think of). I don't usually put much thought into these "special days", except for the fact that National Sibling Day fell on my sister's and my 30th birthday, but this one hits home a lot more than most.

Like any other medical issue, there are groups of people that are passionate about infertility. In my own world I would like to think that I am passionate about MY infertility, but all of a sudden that just doesn't feel like enough.  I struggle with the fact that I pay for my medical insurance like everyone else (okay a slight overstatement) and that my husband has a diagnosed medical issue, but conceiving is elective and therefore not covered. Listen here insurance company...I pay for freaking maternity care....why the hell can't you help pay for me to use it!?  This is not right...it's not okay...and it should be changed.

I have accepted the fact that this may not ever be changed in my childbearing years, so the hubs and I have opted to save...and save...and save. The way it's going it feels like we won't save enough before my childbearing years come to an end. (Kidding-sort of). We've decided that this is what we want. Now I don't believe that everyone should get what the "want", but I do hope that the odds are in our favor.  I waiver on occasion at the thought of spending more than $15,000.00 and having 50% odds of getting anything in return.  That's a horrible investment right? Wrong. We'll take our chances.

In June the hubs is going to undergo his swimmer excavation for a final time. The doctor is confident that we will be able to retrieve enough for 4 cycles (yeah right cause that's ever gonna happen).

Then we wait....

Well I don't wait...I google the shit out of the internet. Acupuncture, diets, exercise, supplements.

At some point Google will probably give me the screen of death, tell me I am insane, then send the authorities to put me in a padded room, but any sane person would do the same...

In all seriousness though-I pledge that I will not go "IVF Cray Cray". I will stay sane and know that "everything happens for a reason". Now I understand the good intentions that come with this statement.

Thank you for everyones support...and remember-before you ask someone about anyones baby making plans, know that there may be a lot more to their story.

Toddlers In Tiaras Style Meltdown and the Turning Point

This post is going to be a little bit difficult for me because it makes me look like a ginormous asshole. The hubs will attest that I never like to admit when I'm wrong, but I am writing in a moment of weakness.  If you ask me tomorrow I will plead the fifth.

Honey Boo Boo ain't got nothin on me...

I was beginning to feel like I was on a never ending scavenger hunt of things to find but no end in sight. The few months that followed the discovery of our infertility were very dark and depressing times. We chose a select few people who we confided in. Talking about or options was not easy and never seemed to end well. Don't get me wrong, my marriage to the hubs was always solid and my first priority.  The excitement of "trying" to conceive was gone. Sorry hubs and family members but there's no holding back here. Mattress mambo took a back burner-what was the point?  The hubs dealt with feelings of inadequacy as a man (because somehow in a man's sperm count equates to manliness). Dreams of a white picket fence and four kids were fading into a distant memory. I had convinced myself (Big Fat Lie) that I would be okay not having anymore children. Deep down my heart ached for my husband and myself, but it was my turn to be strong. The husband wondered if I would have married him had we known he couldn't have children and to be honest I know I would have, but it would have been the same huge blow before marriage as it was after.

Various couples close to us had started trying to get pregnant (or not trying not to). About four months into our journey rock bottom came in the form of a package. Although the hubs had noble intentions he waited till I was a few drinks in (okay more than a few) to tell me the news. In his loving "my wife is gonna blow a gasket" way he informed me that we had received a package in the mail that day. There was no time for him to finish-the tears were flowing and the screaming, sadness, and jealousy raged. "How dare someone not have the decency to tell us with more tact knowing our situation". "How self absorbed can they be that they didn't think to tell us more delicately". Yeah I'm a shitbag-although even now I have trouble admitting that.  In my typical manner I jumped the gun. I raised hell on people that only wanted us to share in their joy. I had no joy so how could I feel it for someone else? I put my husband in an awkward position (although at the time I don't know that he was in a better emotional state than me). I held out a long time before fences were mended. Being stubborn hurts no one but the stubborn person.  Two...three...pregnancy announcements...each one taken a little better than the last. End me being asshole...well I guess that could be up for debate.

Okay so no freeway to drive but are there cars in the garage? (Think analogy people)

One thing I have learned during this whole process is that doctors like to draw pictures. They draw pictures of  ovaries, uteruses, testicles, clowns, fish, and who knows what else. If they get a chance to draw you a picture they do. Who cares if the patient's eyes have glazed over, they want to hit the point home by drawing you a picture. I think for Christmas this year we are going to get our doctors an Etch-A-Sketch...at least this way they can save a few trees.

After the urologist we were moving on the the fertility doctor. The appointment was uneventful. We went through the same question and answers sessions we had gone through before. Then it was time...time for the camera up my "peach". Thanks Flynn if you're reading this-it's almost as good as tallywacker. Unlike the hubs, I was nice enough to not kick him out of the room. Yadda yadda..."you have a healthy uterus" "enough room for twins"...yadda yadda. Hubs has been officially initiated into the world of womanhood minus the creepy alligator crank. Women, you know what I'm talking about.

That question again....

Is there a history of cystic fibrosis in your family?

Uhhhhhh...how bout you just cut to the chase because the hubs is horrible about remembering names, birthdates, what he ate for dinner the night before (unless there is leftovers in the fridge). There is NO WAY he can tell you his family medical history.  One of the hubs few irritating qualities. Fast forward through a hole bunch of boring blood tests and WE HAVE AN ANSWER (well sort of)!

Long story short:
embryo=mutated cystic fibrosis gene
fetus=did not develop vas deferens
baby/man=natural vasectomy

Yeah I bet some of you men are jealous. Now on to the next hiccup in our journey (because the ones we have had have not been enough?). If I tested positive for being a carrier of the cystic fibrosis gene any child that we may potentially have would have 1 in 4 chance of having cystic fibrosis. This of course was assuming that the hubs even had sperm to father a child.

Then there it was, finally some good news, I was not a carrier.

Women think the speculum (creepy alligator crank ) is bad...a TESA is probably worse, and it is next on the agenda.