Definition of Infertility: If getting pregnant has been a challenge for you and your partner, you're not alone. Ten to 15 percent of couples in the United States are infertile. Infertility is defined as not being able to get pregnant despite having frequent, unprotected sex for at least a year.
www.mayoclinic.com/health/infertility/DS00310

This is the story of 2 couples, 1 infertile and 1 fertile, and our journey of hope towards the greatest gift that can be bestowed upon any person: the gift of life. Though we are just beginning the process, our goal is simply to share our experiences and emotions along the way and our hope is that this story might bring comfort, courage, or simply answers to other people who have found themselves at what once was seemingly a dead end.

What makes us different than so many stories is, we are neither family nor strangers. Our friendship lately has been a long distance one. I always found it interesting that friendship are one of the few relationships that can survive distance. Boyfriends, girlfriends, married people, even family can fall victim to physical distance. We have not.

Friendship, like any relationship, is a give and take. Like the dipping and rising of waves you remain connected. Kelly and her entire family are giving us the greatest gift, even if it doesn't work, that gift will never be tarnished or less cherished.

This blog is not for the faint of heart. It will be raw and honest as this is a challenging process. We hope our sense of humor does not offend you; if it does we won't be hurt that you don't come back to visit, but we do hope that you take something away. Please be forgiving of our grammar and spelling as there will be times that our writing will be a release of intense emotion.

We hope you enjoy, find what you need, and come back for more!

*NOTE: This blog was started in January 2010 - the very, very beginning of our process. The first preliminary/counseling appointments are scheduled but have not happened yet. Kelly has yet to get medical clearance. The purpose of starting from this point is to detail the emotions and experiences of every little step. *

Genetic Material Mama's Story

The Boring Stuff:

My name is Katy, and I am half of the genetic material. (Or the "intended parent" if you want to get brushed up on your legal/medical jargon.) I am a 29 year old Michigander. I've been married for about 7 years to a great man named Matt.

Meeting My Future Baby Mama (is that supposed to be hyphenated?):

I met Kelly when I was hired on as a stylist in a mid-level salon. Soon after we became friends. She understood my sense of humor and wasn't put off my sometimes-lack-of-tact, and she wasn't afraid to tell me when I was saying something, um, unpalatable. I enjoyed the company of her and her husband and later her two amazing children.

As I watched Kelly progress through her first pregnancy it was as if I was watching what I would be like because we were so similar in a lot of ways. She took care of herself and had a supportive husband as well (shout out to the Baby Daddy here). Though if I remember correctly, she complained a lot less than I would have. I was not present for either births but Kelly remarked that they were mostly uneventful.

The Struggle:
By the time of the birth of her second child, a girl, my husband and I were aware of our struggle to conceive. Each month was a fresh slap in the face. I always felt it was ironic that there was blood involved because the wound in my heart felt that deep. Of course, everyone around us announced the expectancy of their own baby and it hurt terribly every time. Then the guilt followed for not being fully happy for them.

In June (I am uncertain of the year exactly, 2005 or 2006?), a few days before I was going to call the specialist, I had a late period which was not unusual for me but I took a test and it was positive. It was in the morning after I showered and in my towel I sank to the floor. I was stunned. The lines were bright and tears poured from my eyes. I heard my husband stir for his own morning routine and quickly pulled myself together. I hid the test. I wanted to tell him in some special way - not while in the back of his mind he was thinking he had to poop. I got ready in record time and left the house with my hair still wet and pee stick in hand. I could hardly stand it. I felt as though I was going to burst! Later I did burst but in a decidedly different way.

Maybe 3 weeks later I took another test. I'm not certain why. I think I wanted to see those lines pulsing at me like a neon sign again. This time there was only one line. The Control Line they call it. I called the doctor immediately and they drew blood and did a urine test, both were negative. They had told me not only was it negative, but I was never pregnant. It was a false positive. "But the stick said positive!" I shouted and thrust it at her. I had brought it with me. It was proof damn it! The stick lied. My mind whirled. How could it lie? It's job is truth. It's chemicals for Christ sake! It's science. It's fact. It is or it isn't. Not a lie. But science is apparently a fickle bitch when relied upon. I left the office in tears and dry heaved while holding onto my car.

My husband and I spent the next few days crying every whip-stitch. We had not done the wait-until-the-first-trimester-is-over-to-tell-everyone thing. Everyone close to us knew our story and struggle. We were too excited to hold back. I felt guilty for that. I felt that that lying stick had made me a liar too. I was utterly embarrassed and felt like a real fool.

Welcome To Infertility. Here is Your Complimentary Bag of New Shit to Deal With (oh, and tissues):

We went through the whole variety of tests, the most interesting being the Post Coital test. There really is nothing like scheduled sex to really heighten the romance. Then, you get to walk into the doctors office right after feeling like you have FORNICATOR written on your forehead. I was surprised at this point that they didn't ask, "So how was it". *TMI Alert* So they get us settled in the room and I, uh, assume the position and they check how many of his soldiers made it across the terrain, which is to say, next to none. In this procedure they were to check my cervical fluid, which apparently is supposed to be the consistency of egg whites. The nurse laughs and says, "well, I can already tell you this is not going to work for you. It's like rubber cement." Usually they analyze it, but that was just redundant after this.

We continued on to IUI's (Inter Uterine Insemination) and then to IVF (In Vitro Fertilization) and then to FET (Frozen Embryo Transfer). The IUI's weren't so bad but the IVF and FET's were fraught with emotion and failure. Between the injections and other medications it was impossible not to have the experience run our life. Every thing was timed. We had to plan our days around our injections or pills. I had to leave work early or receive injections in the car. We had to find out what the policy was on bringing needles into a concert. My husband gave me almost all the injections. I knew it was hard for him to inflict pain on me each time. I could see it in his eyes. The injections left bruises and left me sore at the injection site. It wasn't pure hell but it was extremely difficult.

That's me! The oven!

My name is Kelly and I am the gestational carrier-to-be. I really hate that name. Surrogate is even a little weird to me. I don't know what the right name/term is - but I'm sure I'll find it before this is all over. Or maybe not. Who am I? Why am I doing this?

I am 32 years old, married to the love of my life (who also happens to be the best man and husband that has ever been), and a mom of two beautiful amazing children. My son is 5 and my daughter is 4, and yes, I am the genetic parent and gestational carrier for each of them. That is exactly why I am here.

My husband and I are living our fairy tale and while we may do things the hard way, everything has worked out exactly as we have wanted and hoped for. Even the unplanned, unseen things have been welcomed, life changing and defining moments for our family. We have much to be grateful for, try not to take anything for granted, and we live for today.

When we decided we were ready to start a family we were both lucky and blessed. We were pregnant on the first try with each child and we had no complications throughout either pregnancy. Prior to starting to try I had an appointment with my OB/GYN to have my IUD removed, discuss getting pregnant and start prenatals. During my pelvic, prior to removing the IUD, my doc remarked "You've got great hips! Oh, ya, you were made for having babies."

I have never forgotten that. If I have been given this body that handles pregnancy so well, why wouldn't I be a part of this opportunity to help our friends? By no means was this decision taken lightly by me or my husband. If he were not 100% supportive we would not be here. Obviously having kids the ages we do makes the decision more complicated and delicate. After much consideration and debate we decided that we could not withhold what we could potentially offer. This is not a sacrifice to me. This just is. Beyond the complicated facade it is very simple: We have these amazing, beautiful, ridiculously funny and loving friends who we know would do anything for us. So their oven's broken. No problem! They can borrow ours!


Little Wonders

For Katy and Matt. May you realize that each step of this is a little wonder, a small miracle. We love you! ~Kelly & Ben

Tuesday, February 16

Finding gratitude among paperwork, new medical terms and information overload

Wow!  Ben and I had our first appointment at The Fertility Center (From here on referred to as TFC) and I should have been better prepared.  The appointment, which I was lead to believe would be 2 hours, was 3 hours!  45 minutes of which was a 300 question personality test given to me in a 9x9 room!  Well who wouldn't have a 'personality' after that?  I swear, if I read one more question that asked me if I was hearing voices, see things other people don't, think people are out to get me or watching me - I was going to run up and down the halls pulling my hair out!  Really?  If I was paranoid do they honestly think I would 1) be completing the survey, or 2) be honest about it?
The first part of the appointment was with the counselor and went pretty much as I expected it to.  We had to answer all the questions one would anticipate to be normal: how did this idea come up, how long have you known Katy, disclosure info (yes we know she's crazy and yes she knows I'm crazy and yes everyone has the right to talk about it with everyone else!), is there any situation you can foresee that would make you think "I wish we would have never been apart of this?", and basic background info on medical history.

When she asked the regret scenario question my immediate thought was "That's the dumbest question I've ever heard!" but I was able to articulate my verbal answer into:  I think that's the type of thing you can never know until you're in that situation and whatever my answer or if I don't answer it would probably be naive.  But no, there is no situation that I have imagined thus far that would make me say that."  This past weekend the 4 of us hung out and talked about lots of different aspects, expectations, lack of expectations, etc.  Honestly, I am very proud of us because there doesn't seem to be one single situation or 'what if' that we haven't covered.  I believe we are all coming from a comfortable place of understanding in that there is only so much we can do and if it happens it happens.  I admit that hearing the odds are only 40% that it will work made me feel slightly deflated and kind of 'how dare you squish my hope' but I quickly snapped out of it because I very much believe in the power of mind over body and mental positiveness so I didn't want to allow myself to stay in that place too long.

After that part came the questionnaire and then my husband and I met with the Donor Coordinator.  I don't know what I thought that would entail but geez-oh-petes!  Almost right off the bat we were talking about what meds and what monitoring takes place at what day in my cycle.  Then there was a huge demonstration of what the needle will look like, how and where to do the injections and how to mix this one certain injection.  Ok.  Wait just a second.  I haven't even had a Pap or blood work yet.  Then we were talking about terms and abbreviations and side effects and follicles and linings and over-stimulation and lions and tigers and bears-oh-my!  My head was spinning but I had to keep stopping it because all I could think was "I CANNOT MESS THIS UP.  I HAVE TO REMEMBER THIS.  I CANNOT SCREW SOMETHING UP."  I got to skip most side effects and terms because this is 'a frozen embryo transfer'.  

I like things to be quick, straight and to the point.  No B.S. and no candy coating.  I get all the covering their butt stuff that has to be said but it is thick and suffocating.  It was draining in a way that a doctor or hospital never has been for me.  I walked out relieved to see the bright gray light of the outside and feel the cold burst of fresh air on my red, hot face.  I walked out relieved that I am on the end of this process that I am on.  I walked out grateful that I never had to find myself at a clinic like that, going through those appointments, and taking in all of that overwhelming knowledge because I was infertile.  I walked out with a clearer understanding of infertility and a new found respect for something I had once taken for granted - conceiving privately without medical intervention - and I walked out with an unparalleled admiration for the strength and determination  women who go through this process have.

2 comments:

Katy said...

Did you feel you wanted to bang your head against the wall of that tiny closet of a room?

Kelly said...

Yes, Yes I did!

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