To be positive, or not?

A friend from my Resolve support group just emailed to say she's heading out of state for another IVF. I wrote and told her I am also leaving in about 4 weeks for another cycle out of state, and she sent back:  

My best wishes for you on this new cycle, I admire you so much, you never give up and keep positive all the time.

Keep me posted, I will keep you posted as well.

Best regards and best wishes!!!!

I sat here at my desk and read this message a couple of times, puzzling over her first sentence. It is true that I never give up (8 medicated cycles, one surgery, two painful x-rays/diagnostic procedures, 3 IVFs, and now my first donor egg cycle- all in two years). But "keep positive all the time"?

I do not consider myself a super positive person. In fact, if you asked my husband, he'd say I'm more of a pessimistic, worrying type. I'm not always like that in life, but with my fertility, I've learned that things tend to not go my way. As evidenced by the long string of trials and tribulations I listed above, and the long string of negative pregnancy tests I've chucked in the trash.

Is it necessary to be positive to keep going? I think that's a difficult question. Yes, you have to keep hope in order to put up with all the discomfort, both physical and emotional. I've never given up hope, as my group member wrote. I've given up hope in the short term-like, for a specific procedure or test- but I've always kept my end goal in sight. I have wondered WHY, and I have asked myself over and over, WHAT are you doing, crazy pants??? You love your life the way it is, you have a happy marriage, good friends, love to travel, financial stability for the most part. But something keeps driving me forward. I feel that longing to give love and receive it, in the baby/child department. I am not sure my cat loves me but I think she does, and even when she isn't showing it (she is, after all, a cat), just by the act of me loving her, I get so much enrichment in my life, and my heart and soul feel so good when I can tell she is happy and content.

So, I don't know. I have never taken breaks, which might not be the healthiest thing. I have plunged ahead, from one attempt to the next. I have been careful in researching the best way forward, and checked stats and success rates carefully, but I have always been dead set on finding a way to keep going.

I haven't been positive. I worry, I complain, I question myself and others all the time. But I have been positive, somewhere deep inside me, that this is what I need to do. I mourned my loss of a genetic child, but deep down inside, I've known for awhile that this is where I'd end up. My embryos have never been good, and I've never responded well to medications. In some ways, it's depressing beyond anything else. But in others, if I can have a child via donor egg, I've achieved my end goal: to love and be loved by a little one.

I think my support group friend is a little bit right and a little bit wrong. I'm not positive. I'm realistic. For me, that's helped me to not give up. I keep my end goal as the ultimate goal, even if the actualization of how I'll get there has changed a bit. I've learned a lot about myself through infertility, but I also think it's made me more determined. Not more positive, but more positive about what I want, and that in the end, somehow I'm going to get there.

Ten words that describe infertility

A friend of mine who is now pregnant, but used to be in my RESOLVE support group, sent me this blog posting.

It's written from a man's perspective, but I can relate to every single one of these ten words that describe infertility. I found the "ambivalence" (#10) particularly interesting. He writes, "Every time you have to go through another kind of treatment, you ask yourself: 
         “Is it worth it? Do I really want it that bad?” And then in the very next breath, you are taken out by the sheer magnitude of how much you want a baby."

I, too, have often struggled with feelings of ambivalence. I never really thought about having kids.. until I did. Sometime after getting married in 2009, my friends started to get pregnant and have babies, and I held their children, and saw how enriched their lives were with love. 

I see the other side too, however- the screaming, whiny kids, the sleep deprivation, the financial stress. I enjoy sleeping in till 9:30 on weekends and making fancy dinners on a regular basis, going out to eat and spending all Saturday at a wine show with friends in the sun. We've taken amazing trips to foreign and exotic countries (in the last five years: Mexico, Thailand, Korea, Peru, Mexico again, Ecuador) and been able to spend money on frivolous things and more important things like making our home beautiful. I often think, okay it's one thing to have sex and easily conceive.. but is the medical invasion, the stress, and the very significant financial hit we are taking worth it?? When I am not one of those women who always knew and yearned for babies? 

But then.. then, when I am least expecting it, yet also quite regularly, I also feel "taken out by the sheer magnitude of how much [I] want a baby." And then I am pushed forward, forward, forward in this two year quest to have and to hold that baby, to watch the toddler grow up, and to hopefully have a relationship like the one I have with my own parents. I hear what my mom often says, that I was the best decision she's ever made and the best thing to ever happen to her. I know what it is to be a wanted child, and I feel that what I am doing, what I am putting us through, is hopefully going to be worth it all in the end.

This is what a broken heart feels like

On Saturday morning, bright and early, B and I woke up. Normally we'll sleep till 9 on weekends, or sometimes later. But not this morning. We were up and in the bathroom before 7 am.

The test was negative. As I suspected and expected it to be.

We went back to bed but it was hopeless to go back to sleep. All things considering, we had an okay day after that. We took a long walk in the woods, a nap on the couch together, and met friends in Raleigh for dinner. Another friend came over later that night and we shared a bottle of wine.

Sunday was not so good. Sometimes the first day isn't so bad, but then the shock wears off and it becomes more real.. the lack of hope. Sunday I did yardwork and then we went for another long walk. However, we had a horrible fight in the woods. I was asking to mourn the loss of our last opportunity to have a biological child, and he just wanted to try to get me to think more positively about our other options and life in general. He also said he would like more support for the stress he is under at school.

Bullshit. That is such bullshit. This blog is not a forum to complain about my marriage, but I am still very upset with him. I know infertility can cause many couples to become unhappy with each other, and can break apart some marriages even. I know all this, and we've been doing okay over the past two years. But for some reason, this time I really wanted to mourn, and I wanted him to do it with me. And he couldn't, or wouldn't.

This turned into a 7 hour fight. Well, most of that was not actually fighting, it was him hiding upstairs and doing homework, and me crying and being miserable everywhere else. We did make up before bed, kind of.  He did bring home veggies and chocolate to try to make up, but my anger and sadness were overwhelming.

Today didn't start off too much better. Actually, it was awful. I woke up so exhausted from not enough sleep, and went to the gym to try to feel better. Doing Zumba for an hour did help. But then I had to go to the clinic to do the obligatory blood test. I guess I was a little dehydrated, presumably from the Zumba but perhaps also from crying so much yesterday. Anyway, three nurses tried to get a vein, resulting in my being stuck five times. They even sent me away and had me drink water and come back, but nothing. No vein, no blood. At this point I was bawling. I mean, uncontrollable crying, right there in the blood lab. The main nurse finally consulted with the attending, who told me to just go on home. I guess the pee test I did at home is gonna have to suffice.

This experience was torture. My arm is full of pain from the five needles I had in my right vein, and I cried myself hoarse at the clinic, in the car, and when I got home. I called B and told him I'm on the verge of a nervous breakdown and he better damn well stop bickering with me and listen to what I need. I need someone to tell me they know how much I've been through, and that it's been HARD. I do not know anyone else who has been through three IVFs, and I am proud of myself for doing it, and I could use more acknowledgement from him. And when I say I don't need someone trying to cheer me up, but just to listen and try to empathize, that's what I want. I think he gets it now, after calling him at work today and having another little talk.

Overall, I feel that my heart has been broken, stomped on, and broken again. I know some of this is the hormones that are still in my body, and some of it is the lack of sufficient sleep I've had for three nights now. But most of it is just the plain and simple fact:  I will never have a biological child. I am 32 years old and cannot conceive, despite three IVFs with ICSI, costing more than $20,000 and two years of our lives. We will never know if it's my egg quality or his sperm's inability to fertilize, but the combo of me and him will never result in good embryos. We are done with our IVF journey.

Of course, all is not lost. I still intend to pursue embryo adoption, and traditional adoption is that does not work out. One of these days, I will be a parent, and maybe then my heart will begin healing.

Not Willing to Let Go

I always thought I'd know when to quit. Logically, it makes sense to stop the hamster wheel, get off this train, whatever. I had two lackluster cycles and we're out about $10K already on treatment and medications. It's drained us emotionally, physically has been tough, and has affected me at work. B is entering a really stressful next two years as he starts business school. We're worried about money all the time due to his tuition. It probably makes sense to take our limited funds and spend them on a sure bet, adoption, rather than continue on a very unsure bet, more IVF.

Yet.

I cannot force myself to feel that I am done with IVF. I only had two tries, and I have never felt good about my clinic's care. I also feel that if I gave my left ovary some more time, perhaps it would play ball, as the doctor says.

I see that it's about $10K for two tries at NCCRM. They have better outcomes than my clinic. I always wished I'd started there instead.

I know that I was feeling okay about adoption, but I'm not really. I'm just not.

I think that I should meet with Dr. F one last time (appointment is scheduled for next Friday) and also have a consult at NCCRM. Bring my records and ask them what they would do differently. What my chances are like, with two more tries. Ask them if I were their daughter or if they were me, would they keep fighting this seemingly uphill battle, or would they put their funds towards adoption instead.

I should call NCCRM. I should just do it. I know B is not in favor of this, but he is not totally opposed either. And perhaps I could use my own savings a bit. I know it's supposed to be there for an emergency, but this seems like one.

Or should I just let.... go?

Torture. Plain and simple. Torture.