Dedicated to my FF pals

Coming up on the boys’ 18 month birthday, I found myself thinking about the whole process of having them. I kept remembering how painful the journey was at times, and how the only people who seemed to understand were my online Fertility Friend buddies. I felt broken at times, and I know that when I tell you that they did too that I’m not breaking any unspoken confidences. They honestly kept me sane, and for that I will never, never forget those amazing women-some of whom are still on their journey.

If you never dealt with infertility as one in every four couples does, then this post is for you more than those of us who have. Maybe it will help clarify things, or maybe it will stop just one person from saying, “It’ll happen when you stop trying.” Please keep in mind that everyone’s experience is different and that treatments depending on the medical reason for the fertility issue(s) are different. Bruce and I went through a relatively short process.

I had to go for blood work and an internal ultrasound at least twice a month. I can still clearly remember seeing a woman get called in to have her blood taken and greeting the tech by name. I assumed that would not be me. I wondered how long she had been going there to have such familiarity with him. A few cycles later, he and I were indeed on a first name basis. I actually found it funny in a weird way. I ended up having so much blood work done that my arm looked like I imagine an IV drug user’s arm might, and I bore a mark of dubious honor-a constant bruise. It was a symbol of what I was going through-at least outwardly.

We started with a drug called Clomid, which basically gets a woman to ovulate (sometimes more than one egg). My little ovaries went into production and would pop quite a few of those little suckers. That was two cycles. Then we went into the inseminations. They lasted three cycles with two cancelled cycles. The fun part of the insemination cycles was a lovely injection in my stomach! The first one was done in the doctor’s office. The next two were done at home-by Bruce. Remember that I mentioned he’s not a doctor, nurse, or anything medical like that? He was so good though. He always worried that he was hurting me. Those shots burned.

After six cycles on Clomid, apparently you cannot use it anymore. So, we were introduced to the next step-injectible drugs! We got to go to a “class” for these injections. The nurse told us that there weren’t many spots to do some of these, and that the best was on the upper outer thigh. I still got to have stomach injections, too, but those didn’t hurt at all. The thigh shots caused so much pain and bruising that I began to have trouble walking and sitting. I lied to curious co-workers that I had injured my back. I felt bad, but it was such a personal thing at the time that only those who were true friends knew about it.

Unfortunately and fortunately, my body went into hyper-drive and produced 18 eggs. I got a call in work telling me that I had about 15 minutes to decide whether to cancel the cycle or to turn it into an in vitro cycle. Bruce and I discussed it as thoroughly as we could in 15 minutes and decided that if we could put the “down payment” on our credit card, then we’d go for it. Turns out you can pay for your kids on time, folks, so in vitro was what we did.

The next day I was at the doctor’s office. I was placed in a chair that can spread your legs a full 180 degrees. It looks like something that they’d use in a torture chamber complete with arm straps! I was knocked unconscious, the eggs were “harvested,” and I was sent on my way. Then they were mixed with Bruce’s donation and left to grow. We were told that 10 eggs were harvested and that 8 survived the long three day wait. That left us only one more decision-how many to put back. In an earlier discussion, the doctor said that they do one per decade of life. I was 29-was it to be 2 or 3. He left it up to me after offering the following: by putting 3 back I would increase my chances of having a baby by 40%, there would be an elevated chance of twins, and there was a 1% chance of triplets. I went with three. Obviously, you know what happened.

At first, I was in shock. I said, “I can’t have triplets! I don’t have enough of anything! I have two arms, two legs and only two breasts!!!” I calmed down soon enough and basked in the pregnancy knowing that it was a true blessing. I loved carrying the boys! I loved feeling them move! I loved talking to them and planning things and rubbing my growing belly. I loved maternity clothes-bring on the bows! I hated people’s stupid comments. I still hate people’s stupid comments.

So, in closing, please remember that each person has his or her own unique and special journey in life. There are tremendous gifts that come along with sometimes tremendous sorrows. When offering comments like, “It’ll happen when you stop trying or worrying/thinking about it?” trivializes the sadness and loss that the couple is dealing with. What can you say? I’ll offer this: “I’m here if you want to talk about it.” Please just listen.