If there's one thing that infertility tears apart, it's the ability to have some kind of plan for your life. Most couples make the decision to add to their family, choose when to start, and let things progress naturally from there; each time frame is unique, but it always happens in the end. Then there's the decision about whether to have more children - again, dependent on many things; finances, space, pregnancy complications - but the choice is there. Do we, or don't we? If we do, we try. If we don't, we give the baby things away and move away from the high chairs and prams, and towards a new stage of life.
Happy Mother's Day to...
- Mums who have older children, who get to share their day with their grown up kids
- Mums who now have grandkids, who get to experience the day with even more little ones
- Mums who have wee ones, who will celebrate with a child of their own for the first time
- Mums who are single parents, who are the entire world to their little family
- Mums who have lost, who are missing the child/children they carried in their wombs & hearts
- Mums who have yearned, who are still waiting for their chance to become a parent
- Mums who have no children, who find this day so challenging
- Mums who have passed on, who we miss so, so much
Throughout this journey of infertility, there are several prominent moments that stick in my memory.
The time that we realised that things 'just weren't going to happen' despite naively hoping we'd be one of the success stories who didn't need any help to start a family.
The time that we were brushed off by our first fertility specialist because of our age, our concerns never taken seriously.
The time that our first IVF failed, and we realised that this journey wasn't going to be as simple as it seemed, despite all of the research and statistics.The time that we found ourselves hoping, once again, to be a natural success story for a second child, and swiftly realising that it just wasn't in the cards for us.
The time we found out that we had silently lost our second pregnancy, and then the third, and then the fourth.
The time people told us to ' just adopt' or to 'find a different path' or 'be happy with what you've got' - those words that were like swift stabs to the heart, over and over again.
I'm not shy when it comes to sharing our story. For us, it's not a taboo. We can't have children without help, and that journey can be a dark and twisty one. Without support, compassion, understanding, empathy, it can be a pretty lonely place to be.
It grates me when people make assumptions and judgements about infertility. Read any article sharing the word about infertility, and skip ahead to the comments, if you dare.
Maybe they just aren't meant to be parents. Maybe they should just stop being sad and find something else that makes them happy. Maybe it's God giving them a sign. Maybe they should stop being selfish and adopt.
Why should it be my problem? Why would I want to understand this? Why is this even a big deal? Why should my tax pay for someone else's kids? Why would this be my problem?
Why? Because 1 in 8 makes this a common concern. 1 in 8 is someone you know. 1 in 8 could be your children one day, or your grandchildren. 1 in 8 people are grieving, hoping, wishing.
And so, we sit here during this Infertility Awareness Week, almost 16 weeks pregnant with Baby #2. It's a strange feeling, knowing that you're in limbo. You've suffered to get here, but you've unintentionally left people behind by moving forward yourself. I can't count how many times I was on the other side of this story, and I know, I KNOW how much it hurts.
Not everyone feels that they can share their story - and that's okay.
But for as long as I can, I'll keep on spreading the word. If just one person comes across this blog and can relate to my journey - even if it was a post from five years ago, then I've done my part. Infertility doesn't disappear; whether you end up with children, or on a different path. It's always there.
You're not alone.
Waiting for beta results is just plain torture.
That is all.
Am a nervous, anxious, petrified wreck.
Knock me over with a feather, folks. It appears that - as of today - we are pregnant!
12dpo hcg - 28, progesterone 15
17dpo hcg - 286, progesterone 30.4
The test will be in the doubling, of course - so we'll likely go back on Friday for follow up bloodwork. Breathe, just breathe.
To say I am absolutely petrified about tomorrow's beta blood draw is an understatement.
The pee sticks look okay - but then, they did last time too. It's hard to hope, epecially since they started out so faint this time too. I do have some darkening sticks from the last few days, though. The thing is, my morning sticks are always fainter than the afternoons. It seems to go against every bit of pee stick literature that you can find on the internet... but there it is.
I haven't used any pregnancy tests today. I figure that whatever will be, will be. In 24+ hours, we'll have an answer.
I want this more than I can put into words. To get a chance at carrying another baby, to hope that this one might turn out different. Fifth time lucky, perhaps? Could this be our rainbow, rainbow, rainbow baby?
It is still staggering to me just how uneducated some folks can be regarding infertility. Just when I think I've seen and accepted it all, something new comes along to blow my mind and render me speechless all over again.
Two words that trivialise an extremely sensitive and heartbreaking journey to so many - birth parents with no other choice but to give their child up, the children in question, adoptive parents in the process of adopting, hopeful parents who are investigating their options, and parents who desperately WANT to adopt, but can't.
So yesterday morning, I deemed this cycle a bust. I ripped apart the pregnancy tests, deleted every image from my phone, threw a huge tantrum and rage-cleaned my bathroom. It was a meltdown, and it wasn't pretty. I ended that fit of destruction by lying on G's bed and sobbing my heart out - thankfully, she was at daycare, so I could safely let it all out.
After picking her up later that afternoon, I decided to do ONE more pregnancy test. I wasn't going to, and I was kicking myself as I was doing it, but I did it. And you know, there was a more visible line this time. It's still fairly light for 6dp5dt - or 11dpo - but it was a TONNE better than the morning's ghost.
I promised hubby I wouldn't pee on any FRER sticks today, because he thinks I'll drive myself batty overanalysing a line, or panicking if there isn't enough progression. (Yeah, he's right.)
I didn't promise to not use a digital though. Loopholes, you know.
Well, all my optimism has failed me... and I was doing so well. It looks like this FET is also going to be another early loss.
Yesterday (5dp5dt - or 10dpo) was early to start peeing, but I've had squinters in the past - and surprise! We had a squinter this time too! It's hard to see, but it's there - when hubby can see it, you know you're not imagining things.
I've decided I'm done with stick peeing. I can't handle the disappointment of another early miscarriage every single time I use a pregnancy test. All these losses have just sucked the joy straight out of this process, and it leaves me with dread instead.
Beta is next Tuesday, the 9th. My gut is telling me that little Olaf will have either a) fizzled out by then, or b) be barely hanging in there. So long as this loss doesn't drag out like the last one did, I guess that's that.
I'm really frustrated, you guys. This brings us over 2 years of TTC #2, 3 full IVF stim cycles, 8 transfers, months of endless waiting around - and still no closer to a baby. What do we have to do to get pregnant with a sticky baby? Are we doomed to sit and watch everyone else move ahead without us? Why does this keep happening?
I'm angry at my clinic. I want them to try new things, to throw some steroids at me, to do some more testing, to try and figure out what is going wrong - obviously my body is trying its hardest to get pregnant, but something has to give. Are the remaining 6 frosties we have even worth using? I can't do 6 more cycles, 6+ more months of endless miscarriages or negatives. We want to do whatever it takes to have another baby, but I'm just feeling so broken.
Anyway... if I'm quiet for the next week, you'll know why. No false hopes anymore, just resigned to wait for the week and get the official result from the bloodwork when we get there. This just sucks. :(
Surprisingly, it looked very different to this picture when we saw it on the live screen before transfer. Even though it was tiny, I could see a really clear Inner Cell Mass - whereas on this image, I don't see it clearly at all. I'm assuming that this image was captured a little earlier in the day and that it had continued growing up until the transfer time, which I hope is a good thing.
It was a nice experience, except for the part where my cervix decided to disappear and play hard to get. We had a different doctor this time around doing the transfer who was lovely, and I think I'll request him for future transfers. It took him six (!) attempts with a speculum to get the ball rolling, but he was very gentle and very thorough.... and most of all, very kind.
Come on Olaf, lucky #8! Please stick. Please, please, please. Let this be a magical start to 2016. :)
The ball is rolling for 2016's first transfer.. and I'm a combination of petrified and excited.
31
days worth of anti-anxiety medication stored in my bathroom to get through the hard times this season.
27
months since we've been trying to add another baby to our family.
24
different tiny presents that have been lovingly wrapped and stuffed in a Santa sack.
19
great grandchildren that my Pop has all up, keeping him busy on his first Christmas without my Nan.
12
batteries powering up our pretty indoor signs this year.
10
days since our real tree went up, and it's still looking as lush and green now as it was then.. the perfect tree.
6
secret Santa gifters in my family... and nearly all of them know who's gifting who. Secret? Ha!
5
pills of Letrozole finished, to try and at least have a natural-ish cycle on this month off.
4
ornaments on our tree to remember our wee ones, even though only one of them is here with us.
3
hours that hubby spent assembling Miss G's Christmas gift.. and it's delightful.
2
parents who are sad, happy, tired and everything in between this holiday season.
&
1
incredibly excited toddler, who is loving everything about the holiday season! :)
I can't believe it will be Christmas in 11 days time.
Her grandparents bought her a beautiful new quilt and cover set for her big girl bedroom, which we ended up breaking out early when we upgraded her room. Her other grandparents have bought her a cute little bike with training wheels and tassels (!) which is pretty exciting. I think she'll love them all!
Infertility is like being on an island, alone.
You desperately want some company on the island, for someone else to be there alongside you... but then, you wouldn't wish being on this island on your worst enemy.
A few special folks have visited you on the island and stayed a little while... but they've since moved on, while you're still stranded.
You're happy for them when other people leave the island... but you're actually a whole lot sadder than you let on.
Sometimes those visitors can forget just how lonely the island can be... but you can't forget.
People can see you on the island, they can wave to you and offer their words of support... but at the end of the day, they go back to their lives while you stay on the island, alone.
You pretend that you're doing just fine on your island, that you're okay with being there alone... but you're not.
The island has some wonderful things on it, things that you are grateful for... but it doesn't have the one thing that you want more than anything else.
You want so badly to get off the island and move on, like seemingly everybody else can do... but you're stuck.
The island makes you bitterly sad... but there's no foreseeable end in sight, so you grin and bear it.
Dear Member,
I am writing to you as a concerned resident of xxx., NSW.
The proposed 'Health Insurance Amendment (Safety Net) Bill 2015' has come to my attention as something which is of vast importance to the local and the national community, and I wanted to voice my worries to you, as my local member.
My name is xxx, and I have struggled with infertility for many years now. Despite being 31 years of age - which is still technically "young" in IVF land - my husband and I have been trying to expand our family since 2010. For medical reasons, we require the help of IVF to conceive, and while coming to terms with this was tough in itself, we considered ourselves extremely lucky to live in a country where we were assisted financially with our endeavours.
We are young, well, and healthy. We are well educated, tax-paying individuals who have thankfully never needed to utilise the system in any way, shape or form - until now. How crushing it is to have the ONE initiative that we actually benefit from, taken away - particularly when it comes to matters of family planning.
If you do go on to read the many articles about this proposed amendment, I encourage you to read the comments. They are so, so varied. They range from folks like myself, who are struggling to make sense of this medical journey and so desperate to start a family. Then there are those from others, who shoot us down, tell us that we don't deserve to have a family, or that we should just 'accept that we weren't meant to have children' and move on.
I find this appalling, from a mental health perspective - what a thing to say to someone who is already mid-way through a heart-wrenching journey.
I realise that as a couple, my husband & I are not important in the grand scheme of things. Parliament doesn't care about the needs of one couple, or about the overwhelming emotions that come along with infertility. But I want to be a voice, for a community that is often silent (due to shame, embarrassment, grief, or a multitude of other reasons) because if we don't speak out, we won't be heard.
The children we are trying so desperately to have, are going to be the politicians, the farmers, the tech-gurus, the lawyers of the future. They will be hard-working individuals, with strong family backgrounds pushing them to be whoever they want to be, and to provide for Australia in whatever way they deem fit. And they will be so loved.
We are the lucky ones.
We have a daughter, a fiesty, spirited 2.5 year old, who was born after several rounds of IVF back in 2012. Without the help of the Safety Net system, we could never have afforded to utilise IVF, in even the cheapest of clinics. She is here, alive, throwing a temper tantrum as we speak, because of this great country. She's the reason this scheme needs to carry on - to give every family the gift of a child.
But we are also the unlucky ones.
The ones who have been trying desperately to add to our family since 2013. The ones who have spent thousands out-of-pocket, above the Safety Net, to continue doing cycle after cycle of IVF. The ones who have suffered multiple crushing miscarriages, and who will go on fighting until they have given it everything they've got, because having a family is so important to us. It would be devastating to have to give up that dream, simply because of finances.
Please consider making this a priority to look into.
This amendment affects real people, with real stories, and real hopes & dreams.
Thank you so much for your time.
I've always prided myself in 'being strong' throughout this whole ordeal, even on the days where I felt like I was failing at keeping it all together. For people to tell me that they thought I was strong, that I was brave, that I was getting by; it helped get me through some really, really hard times.
Secondary infertility is tough, in that you just can't fall apart - my whole focus has been trying hard to make sure that my toddler is happy and content, and doesn't know the struggle that we're going through on a daily basis.
I had gotten so used to putting on a brave face and trying to keep it all together, that it became second nature to keep on keeping on... until it got too hard. When the anxiety started echoing into everyday things, spilling out into the 'real world', when things just seemed to be too low, too often. It was time.
Throughout the last few years, I've spoken with psychologists and with therapists/counsellors when the need has arisen - especially during the tough times of infertility. I recognised the signs recently, and decided to take some action.
It's hard admitting that things aren't right with you. It's hard, because I feel like a failure... like this has beaten me, when it's so far from the truth & I am not ready to give up yet. But while I still have the fight in me, I've also got to appreciate that situations have become challenging, and I need some assistance working through it all.
Does it make me less strong? Maybe.
But I'm trying to look at it in a different way... that it makes me STRONGER, because I know myself, I know my limits, I know that this is temporary, and I know it'll help make me a better mum, wife, daughter, and infertility warrior in the long run.
I've been sitting and stewing on an issue for almost a week now. It's a big one, and one that's going to be affecting Australian couples who are infertile and turning towards IVF in the near future.
If you'd like to read about it, please follow this link. In summary: The government is planning to cut funding to fertility treatment, thus increasing the out of pocket costs for IVF treatment, as well as reducing the current public health rebates.
Now, before I begin, let me be the first to say something;
I AM SO GRATEFUL FOR MY DAUGHTER.
I've said it before, and I'll say it again every day for the rest of my life... but I feel like I need to reiterate this before I begin this tirade, because I'm sure that folks will be quick to remind me of how lucky I am to have her (I KNOW) and that I should consider myself blessed to have one child (I KNOW) or that I'm even able to access IVF at all (I KNOW) ... so there, it is.
So let's get back to the issue at hand. Do I have issues with this policy changing, as of January 1st? Absolutely. This is one which will affect us directly - and as a couple who are already using a more 'budget' clinic, it leaves our options rather limited. We can't move somewhere more affordable, or swap clinics again - there simply isn't anywhere else to go.
As it is, we've spent thousands of dollars on IVF cycles and additional medications that go along with them. The barely covered specialist appointments, the additional bloodwork and genetic testing that isn't covered by any rebates at all, the miscarriage procedures & pathology - add these in to our overall cycle costs for all of our fresh and frozen rounds of IVF, and it adds up. So much so that I don't even want to tally it all, because the figures will be terrifying.. and that's WITH the help of rebates. I have friends using the bigger clinics here, and their out of pocket costs are even more staggering.
People seem to think that with IVF being on the Medicare system, that means that we pay nothing. I don't think they realise that we are out of pocket every single time we attempt a cycle, whether it works or not. For each of my freeze all cycles, cycles we didn't even get to transfer an embryo, we still paid out of pocket... for not even a shot at a pregnancy. Yes, we're lucky enough to get partial subsidies from the public health system, but we are STILL paying... and with no guarantee!
The comments on these articles are heartbreaking.
I'm sure they are spoken flippantly by folks who either haven't dealt with infertilty themselves, or haven't known anyone personally who is going through all of this... but the ignorance astounds me.
Just adopt.
Realise that you weren't meant to have children, accept it and move on.
Stop using tax payers dollars, just pay for it yourself.
You don't deserve special financial help because you're female.
Why should you be entitled to have children that are funded by the rest of us?
Did I mention just adopt?
You can call me oversensitive, and tell me to "just deal" with my issues regarding infertility - and I won't debate you. Just ask the multitude of counsellors we've seen over the years, and are seeing now. Trust me, we're dealing with it. Just getting through each day of feeling the disappointment and overwhelming sadness that is infertility and loss, that's me dealing with it.
Infertility isn't a medical condition, you say? Children are a choice? Go ahead and talk to my very concerned GP and psychologist, who are working with me on strategies to deal with the anxiety and depression that have now taken hold, after spending countless years and dollars trying to conceive. Not having more children is a choice we can't accept just yet - not until we've given it literally everything we've got. Some folks don't even get that chance.
As for people complaining that people take advantage of the system and use IVF too many times - are you serious? Do you think we WANT to be doing this over and over again? Ask any woman, or couple, who are going through this kind of treatment - we all want this part over with. We're talking about invasive medical procedures, coupled with profound emotional disappointment and physical repercussions... we'd LOVE it if it worked the first time. Reality is, it doesn't work that way.
I'd like to invite these folks who show no sympathy for infertile couples to do some research on adoption in Australia.
We have virtually no systems in place for adoption here. Fostering, yes. Short term care, yes. International adoption? Not even a remote possibility, unless you have tens of thousands of dollars and a willingness to wait for years - with no guarantee of a successful adoption. Once again, I put it to you: do you think that the majority of infertile couples wouldn't have considered this, or done the homework? Aside from coming to terms with the emotional loss of a biological child (not something to be taken lightly for a lot of folks), it becomes very quickly obvious that adoption is not an option for most, whether they would be happy going down that path or not. It's just not that simple.
My husband & I have been infertile since our 20's. We have medical conditions that are the cause for our infertility, and we have no genetic reasons so far to explain our miscarriages, despite plenty of testing. We have not "put off" having children because we have other, more important things in life. We have been together since we were 18/19, and are very happily married as we speak - and all we ever wanted was a family to call our own. We are STILL young, fertility wise - 31/33 as of this moment. We work hard, we save hard, we limit our spending and don't do fancy things... because we are sensible, we don't get government hand-outs, and we are putting every cent we have towards expanding our family.
Am I bitter because I can't have children on my own? You're damn right. What I wouldn't give to be able to simply plan for a pregnancy, have a little lovin' and pop out a baby like seemingly everyone else on the planet.
Here's the thing; the public system and safety net funds all sorts of conditions and treatments. Do I complain, because my "tax payer dollars" pay for a lung transplant, or cancer treatment, for someone who CHOSE to smoke and developed a medical condition? Do I complain, because my "tax payer dollars" are helping someone have a knee replacement because they CHOSE to run marathons and have injured themselves? Absolutely not! Because health care is something that should be available for all of us who are living, working & contributing to Australia's future.
And really.. do they think that we're not tax payers ourselves? We have worked and paid our taxes our entire lives, just like everyone else... so when we need to utilise the system for the first time, why should we have that option taken away from us?
This policy change scares me. As if IVF and infertility treatment wasn't hard enough to deal with from an emotional perspective, the thought that we might have to stop because of finances.. well, it's a real kick in the guts. It makes me think of others who aren't so lucky, or who haven't been able to try for their dream of having a family; places where there is no coverage what-so-ever... and it makes me angry. Australia is a place that is special to me, and I've always been grateful for its public system and the way it supports its citizens - but now, it just leaves me filled with dread.
IVF is not a choice we make lightly. It's not a go-to for people who are lazy, or who leave it too late to have children, or for folks who want designer babies. I just wish people would stop being so quick to judge, and to have a little compassion for those of us who are unlucky enough to have this burden on our shoulders.
Without access to IVF, we wouldn't have our daughter. This amazingly stubborn, strong-willed, pocket rocket of a child, who brings us so much joy. I can't fathom life without her, and I can't fathom why folks wouldn't want others to experience the happiness that she has brought us.
And that's all I have to say about that.
Today is 17dp4dt - or 21dpo - or 5 weeks pregnant.
Obviously my numbers don't match up to ANY of those figures, but here we are. Limbo!
I've managed to wrangle my blood test forward a day, so it's tomorrow now instead of Tuesday. We'll hopefully know with a little more clarity, and it's no good dragging things out any longer than we need to.
I feel pregnant. Queasy, off foods, hot flashes, headaches, exhausted. I'm still on all the meds - oestrogen & progesterone - so yes, it's very likely that it's more to do with them than it is my super low hcg hormones.
I'm still peeing on sticks, because it feels like the one thing I can control at this point... and they are tearing my heart out, because they're telling a story that is likely going to be shattered by tomorrow's blood test results.
These results were from Friday and Saturday, and they appear to be darkening. What a tease, right?
Ah, well. Not much else I can do but wait and continue praying for a miracle, even if the odds are slim.
It's not looking good.
This morning I had bloods drawn for my 18dpo doubling hcg test. To improve upon my number from Tuesday, we were aiming for an hcg increase up to 100.
At 18dpo, it was 81. (Progesterone was 30.)
The nurse didn't sound hopeful & told me it looked as though our embryo implanted, but obviously isn't doing well - so by Tuesday, we'll know one way or the other. It's like a cruel joke, isn't it? More waiting, and not the good kind.
I had my 16dpo beta today. Ideally, they'd like the number to be at 100 for this point in time.
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