When a couple has been pronounced infertile, the next logical thought is adoption. It seems like the easiest answer to make a family. And yes, it does make sense in a lot of cases. The cost for adoption however, is staggering. We learned this after calling several agencies in the early days of our struggle. We learned that an adoption would run $20,000 to $40,000 depending on whether the baby would be domestic or international. Being poor, young newlyweds, it might as well have been a million dollars.
And I longed to experience a baby's secret movements beneath my heart. My grief over not being able to conceive a child was crushing. Would I be okay if we never had a baby? Yes, I would, we would. We would have found comfort in each other and moved on. We would have learned a new skill, traveled, enjoyed our nieces and nephew and found happiness along our path. Yet, I wasn't able to give the dream up until we had pursued all of our options. Donor IUI was one of those options.
IUI, we learned, is relatively inexpensive. After insurance, our out of pocket expense was about $800 for a single attempt. Knowing the cost of adoption and IVF ($18,000) we felt like we'd found a pot of gold. Our daughter was conceived after nine attempts and was born in 2007.
Fast forward to Summer 2011. We tried the adoption route and it didn't work out for us. We had a three month old little girl within our reach and a crib waiting for her at home but she was not meant to be ours. The adoption fell through a few days before we were supposed to bring her home. I hope that wherever she is now, she is cared for and loved like she deserves to be. We will always love her and wonder about what could have been. It is still difficult to talk about.
We had to decide if we were willing to try again. And painfully, we weren't. While adoption is a perfect solution for many families, it isn't for ours. This was a decision that kept me staring into the darkness when I should have been sleeping. For some time we decided to just enjoy our daughter and let our emotions settle. So we did just that and have enjoyed a few vacations as our little family of 3.
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Why Donor IUI
My husband and I were married in the summer of 2000. We were both excited to start a family so when six months had gone by after the wedding and we weren't pregnant yet, I became concerned. We were both healthy and young at 24 and 27. I mentioned we were trying to get pregnant to my gynecologist during an annual visit and he said to come back to see him if we continued to have a problem. Another six months went by without pregnancy so I went in to see him again. He ordered tests on the both of us. My husband's results weren't good. The results could have been a fluke, so he was referred to a urologist for more testing. Several sperm samples were taken and a biopsy was done on each of his testicles. The results were devastating.. no sperm. None. Well, ONE, but it was an immature sperm that could not be used for fertilization.
So now what? While we were trying to digest the diagnosis of male factor infertility, our country was attacked on 9-11. Depression washed over me like ocean waves. I couldn't catch my breath. A picture on TV. Wave. Friends getting pregnant easily. Wave. Another negative pregnancy test. Wave. More pictures on tv. Wave. I was taking everything so personally, emotionally, seriously. Nothing seemed funny anymore. I loved my husband and I was grieving for the children I could never have with him.
Still, I kept working, kept hoping. And eventually I pulled my head out of the water. I found a book at Barnes and Noble one day about donor insemination. I read it in secret, afraid to mention the idea to my husband. His ego had taken quite a hit after the biopsy results came back and his masculinity was fragile. His identity had changed. The book was called "Helping the Stork" and it explained the process of using a donor, the emotions involved, the commitment. I loved the idea, but how could I ask my husband to be on board with it? My anxiety was high. The scratch from claws of depression were threatening to pull me under again. Finally, I broached the subject and let my husband make this decision. After a few months of careful thought and conversation he decided to find out more information.
So now what? While we were trying to digest the diagnosis of male factor infertility, our country was attacked on 9-11. Depression washed over me like ocean waves. I couldn't catch my breath. A picture on TV. Wave. Friends getting pregnant easily. Wave. Another negative pregnancy test. Wave. More pictures on tv. Wave. I was taking everything so personally, emotionally, seriously. Nothing seemed funny anymore. I loved my husband and I was grieving for the children I could never have with him.
Still, I kept working, kept hoping. And eventually I pulled my head out of the water. I found a book at Barnes and Noble one day about donor insemination. I read it in secret, afraid to mention the idea to my husband. His ego had taken quite a hit after the biopsy results came back and his masculinity was fragile. His identity had changed. The book was called "Helping the Stork" and it explained the process of using a donor, the emotions involved, the commitment. I loved the idea, but how could I ask my husband to be on board with it? My anxiety was high. The scratch from claws of depression were threatening to pull me under again. Finally, I broached the subject and let my husband make this decision. After a few months of careful thought and conversation he decided to find out more information.
Monday, February 20, 2012
Bun in the oven recipe: Tests and Meds
Day 1 of cycle (today) - call to schedule a Sonohystogram (check)
Day 3 of cycle - Bloodwork
Days 3-7 of cycle - Clomid
Day 11 of cycle - Sonohystogram
Day 20 of cycle - Bloodwork
Day 22 of cycle - Meet with doctor to discuss treatment
Combine all ingredients with everyday life, mix until running smoothly. Slowly add in wine. Simmer.
Depending on what is discovered on day 3, day 11, and day 20 we could be making a baby on day 44ish.... Many variables to this recipe. :)
Day 3 of cycle - Bloodwork
Days 3-7 of cycle - Clomid
Day 11 of cycle - Sonohystogram
Day 20 of cycle - Bloodwork
Day 22 of cycle - Meet with doctor to discuss treatment
Combine all ingredients with everyday life, mix until running smoothly. Slowly add in wine. Simmer.
Depending on what is discovered on day 3, day 11, and day 20 we could be making a baby on day 44ish.... Many variables to this recipe. :)
Monday, February 6, 2012
Went to the appointment
Why was leaving for the appointment today so difficult? My daughter spent the night with her little bestie and my hubby left for work way before I got out of bed. But the alarm clock radio turned on and I laid there in a little bit of shock this day had already come. The day of the appointment.. the day I would again shake hands with the doctor who helped us conceive our precious daughter five and a half years ago. I was about to ask him to help us again and suddenly I was a nervous wreck.
I left the house, finally, after checking and double checking everything I'd need with me. It felt like I was in a rush, stuck in slow motion, and unable to focus all at the same time. It is an hour drive to the infertility clinic and I needed COFFEE. Once that magic cup from Tim Horton's curled my hand I started to feel normal again.
The outside of the clinic beckoned like deja vu. Nothing had changed in five and a half years. I got my phone out and took a picture of the entrance while still sitting in the car. Getting out of the car would mean I was ready to start this process again. I thought about cancelling the appointment while sitting in their parking lot. Deep breath. I opened the door.
The wait in the lobby was so quick I didn't have time to finish filling out the paperwork. The nurse led me down the hallway and into a little room. She did a weight check and took my blood pressure. Both were good. (Thank goodness I lost all those extra pounds after having my daughter!) The nurse told me the doctor would be right with me and to stay in the stats room.
Less than a minute later, a handsome older doctor poked his head in the room, asked my name, then led me across the hall into his office. My first reaction to the doctor introducing himself was confusion. Then it clicked.. I'm older now.. 35.. And that is why this doctor was asking me questions. While he was introducing himself he mentioned he was a high risk o.b. He asked to go over my history together before talking with the infertility doc. I told him everything I could remember.. the surgery, the testing, all nine donor IUIs, the third producing a nonviable pregnancy lost at 11 weeks. And the ninth IUI, a beautiful, healthy baby girl. Sitting across a desk from him, my information spread out before us, it felt more like a job interview than a health history discussion. His questions were paused while he wrote down what seemed like everything I said. My answers were greeted with follow up questions and more scribbles. Finally, it was my turn. I asked questions about the chances of multiples and confessed anxiety over too many babies. (Apparently though, there is only a 1% chance of triplets. Good to know. Thanks Doc.) I asked questions about risks and his qualifications. Happy with the candidate we found in each other, he walked with me into the next office, the anticipated infertility doctor's office, and sat down in one of the three chairs.
My fertility doctor looked exactly the same as I remembered him. He shook my hand and I thanked him several times for all he had done for me, my husband, and our families. Our daughter is a Blessing, she is my sunshine, and I love being her Mommy. The doctor spoke as methodically as he had when finally he assured me I had a healthy pregnancy after so many years of effort. He has to close his eyes and speak precisely when he is explaining a procedure or trying to get a thought just right, and I've come to find comfort in such thoughtfulness. We all sat together and started coming up with the game plan. It felt good to have 'a team' of doctors (2) working with me. I left the office 45 minutes after arriving with a timeline graph in my hand, a prescription already sent in, and confident I had made the right decision opening my car door.
Next on the agenda: tests.
I left the house, finally, after checking and double checking everything I'd need with me. It felt like I was in a rush, stuck in slow motion, and unable to focus all at the same time. It is an hour drive to the infertility clinic and I needed COFFEE. Once that magic cup from Tim Horton's curled my hand I started to feel normal again.
The outside of the clinic beckoned like deja vu. Nothing had changed in five and a half years. I got my phone out and took a picture of the entrance while still sitting in the car. Getting out of the car would mean I was ready to start this process again. I thought about cancelling the appointment while sitting in their parking lot. Deep breath. I opened the door.
The wait in the lobby was so quick I didn't have time to finish filling out the paperwork. The nurse led me down the hallway and into a little room. She did a weight check and took my blood pressure. Both were good. (Thank goodness I lost all those extra pounds after having my daughter!) The nurse told me the doctor would be right with me and to stay in the stats room.
Less than a minute later, a handsome older doctor poked his head in the room, asked my name, then led me across the hall into his office. My first reaction to the doctor introducing himself was confusion. Then it clicked.. I'm older now.. 35.. And that is why this doctor was asking me questions. While he was introducing himself he mentioned he was a high risk o.b. He asked to go over my history together before talking with the infertility doc. I told him everything I could remember.. the surgery, the testing, all nine donor IUIs, the third producing a nonviable pregnancy lost at 11 weeks. And the ninth IUI, a beautiful, healthy baby girl. Sitting across a desk from him, my information spread out before us, it felt more like a job interview than a health history discussion. His questions were paused while he wrote down what seemed like everything I said. My answers were greeted with follow up questions and more scribbles. Finally, it was my turn. I asked questions about the chances of multiples and confessed anxiety over too many babies. (Apparently though, there is only a 1% chance of triplets. Good to know. Thanks Doc.) I asked questions about risks and his qualifications. Happy with the candidate we found in each other, he walked with me into the next office, the anticipated infertility doctor's office, and sat down in one of the three chairs.
My fertility doctor looked exactly the same as I remembered him. He shook my hand and I thanked him several times for all he had done for me, my husband, and our families. Our daughter is a Blessing, she is my sunshine, and I love being her Mommy. The doctor spoke as methodically as he had when finally he assured me I had a healthy pregnancy after so many years of effort. He has to close his eyes and speak precisely when he is explaining a procedure or trying to get a thought just right, and I've come to find comfort in such thoughtfulness. We all sat together and started coming up with the game plan. It felt good to have 'a team' of doctors (2) working with me. I left the office 45 minutes after arriving with a timeline graph in my hand, a prescription already sent in, and confident I had made the right decision opening my car door.
Next on the agenda: tests.
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