Archive for the ‘Recurrent Pregnancy Loss’ Category
May 12, 2019 | By: Liz
If you have ever been infertile, Mother’s Day Can Freakin’ Suck. This is a picture of my mom. She had Stage IV endometriosis (like me), and as a result, only had me. She wanted more babies but she couldn’t have them and she and my father were TTC before IVF or infertility treatment was an option. She died a little over a year ago and for some reason this Mother’s Day has ripped-off what my grief counselor calls the “grief-band-aid” on so many different issues. I miss my mom today in a gut-wrenching, heart-breaking way that maybe I haven’t since she died. Maybe that is because she suffered from infertility too and we had a special bond on Mother’s Day, understanding each other’s pain even though we both became mothers. But today, there is a pain and anger in me that I haven’t felt in years. If I see one more picture of a pregnant belly in my news feed I will scream. Or read one more comment about the diaper’s women wear after giving birth. Please stop reminding me of what I couldn’t do! My grief counselor tells me that losing both my parents (as an only child) within 5 months is called “complicated grief” but she also said that loss of anyone brings up every other loss I have ever experienced, namely all my many, many miscarriages. That would make it very complicated grief, I guess. I might have reached a point where I was okay not trying to carry a baby in my belly — losing a baby at 5 months when I was in such fear and denial that I couldn’t even acknowledge I was pregnant — helped me move past the ever-present yearning to feel a baby kick inside me. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t still hurt as a woman that I couldn’t carry a baby. I have two beautiful children and should be able to celebrate today. But I can’t. I don’t have the one person who understood better than any other how conflicting Mother’s Day can be, in which to share the day, happiness and sadness tied together in a giant ball of conflicting emotions. My family seems to have forgotten that I needed support today — that I will always need support on Mother’s Day. I don’t blame my kids for not getting me a card or doing something special for me. They are too young to understand how complicated this day is for a formerly infertile mom (who just lost her mom), and God-willing they will never understand the infertility piece. My DH asked what was bothering me and I explained my headspace and then I told him I shouldn’t have to ask for cards or flowers or CHOCOLATE. Just because our kids are teens doesn’t mean the pain of infertility is any less. Apparently today, it is quite more, and this is one of the hardest Mother’s Days I have experienced. I cannot control the internet, all the pictures of newborn babies (Archie’s feet, Amy and Gene), and pregnant bellies. I can only control my response. Which will be to stay off my phone, tablet and away from my computer. My infertility grief-band-aid was ripped off today and it freakin’ sucks. It doesn’t matter how your infertility resolves. There always is a little piece of it in your heart. My mom not being here today makes it harder to push the feelings aside, but no matter how much counseling we get, no matter how many babies we do or don’t ever have, Mother’s Day can be brutal. Now where the Eff is the Chocolate in this house?
Filed under: adoption, child free living, Faith and Infertility, I'm Just Another Angry Infertile Woman, In the News, Infertility Awareness, infertility in the media, Infertility on Television, Miscarriage, Peace to Parenthood, Personal Musings, Recurrent Pregnancy Loss, Stillbirth, The Infertility Survival Handbook, The Journey to Parenthood, Thinking Out Loud
Five Hundred Twenty Five Thousand Six Hundred Minutes – How do you measure your life in infertility treatment?
March 26, 2015 | By: Liz
Five Hundred Twenty Five Thousand Six Hundred Minutes
How do you measure your life in infertility treatment?
How do you measure a day, or a year?
Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred tests
Five hundred twenty five thousand moments, oh dear
Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred dollars
How do you measure, measure an IVF year?
In daylights, in sunsets
In phone calls, in cups of coffee
In inches, in pounds, in needles, in surgery
In five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes
How do you measure, a year of infertility?
How about love for the baby you’re creating?
How about love for the people helping you conceive?
How about love for your partner or a friend?
Measure in love
Cycles of love
Cycles of love
Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred blood draws
Five hundred twenty five thousand follicles to count
Five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred heartbeats
How do you measure the life of an infertile woman or a man?
In diagnoses that she learned
Or in times that he cried
In money they lost or the day the baby died?
It’s time now, to sing out
Though the story never ends
Remember a year in the life of our infertile friends
Remember to love
Oh, you got to, you got to remember to love
Remember to love
You know that love is a gift from up above
Remember to love
Share love, give love, spread love
Measure in love
Measure, measure your infertility in love
Cycles of love
Cycles of love
Measure your infertility, measure your life in love
Inspired By Rent — Seasons Of Love, Lyrics
Filed under: Deadly Silence, Egg Donation, Faith and Infertility, Infertility Awareness, infertility in the media, IVF, Miscarriage, National Infertility Awareness, Peace to Parenthood, Personal Musings, Recurrent Pregnancy Loss, The Journey to Parenthood, Thinking Out Loud, Third-Party Assisted Reproduction, Treatment, Uncategorized, visualization
October 24, 2014 | By: Liz
I’m back (after a blogging break) and I’m mad. Very mad. I am mad at doctors, mad at the media, mad at the reproductive community, mad, mad, mad! Why am I mad you ask?
It took me awhile to figure it out, which makes me even . . . madder! Okay I know that’s not a real word but you get my point . . . I think it’s been building up inside me for . . . oh about 15 years. Because 15 years ago (give or take a few years) I was officially LABELLED as INFERTILE. It is not a nice label. It is not a label anyone ever wants. And yet there it is. A LABEL in my medical chart.
It’s like having a huge tattoo on my forehead that screams to doctors and the world:
INFERTILE: WILL NEED HIGH-TECH EXPENSIVE MEDICAL TREATMENT TO EVER HAVE A CHANCE TO CONCEIVE AND CARRY A CHILD.
This is a label which makes your doctor look at you differently. A label which makes YOU look at YOU differently. A label which makes you look at your partner differently, and makes your partner look at you differently.
The LABEL stuck with me for over 15 years. And indeed, after years of IVF those labels became so convincing to everyone, and I mean everyone, that no one believed there was any hope for me. It was like getting put into a closed box which doctors didn’t even want to try to open.
I listened to doctors, and nurses, and even friends, as they recounted the statistical UNlikelihood that I would conceive and carry a baby, as the statistics of the likelihood of what I wanted more than anything, became smaller and smaller, and smaller. I let them convince me it was impossible.
The list of reasons they gave me was huge. Insurmountably huge. And so I believed them when they told me I wouldn’t conceive. I believed them when they gave me diagnosis after diagnosis. I didn’t question their opinions or their conclusions. I didn’t challenge my own belief in the power of my mind, the power of my body, the power of ME!
I BOUGHT IT ALL HOOK LINE AND SINKER!
And that’s why I am mad.
I let them compartmentalize me.
I let them put me in a box with a label and give up on me.
I let ME give up on ME.
Today there are countless ways to build a family. IUI, IVF, IVF with donor egg, IVF with donor sperm, IVF with egg and sperm donor, embryo donation, gestational surrogacy (with any of the aforementioned IVF combinations), traditional surrogacy, domestic newborn adoption, foster-care adoption, international adoption; and there are more options than what I have mentioned. It is a colorful and beautiful world filled with reproductive and family building options. I live and breathe it every day as I help others move toward their dream of building a family. But I couldn’t see any of it for myself. All I could see was that tattoo staring back at me in my bathroom mirror every morning.
I read when magazines and newspapers attributed the label to countless celebrities, the media’s whispered words of shame and failure . . . [insert celebrity name here] can’t get pregnant] . . . she’s INFERTILE. But I didn’t believe it for them. I believed they would (or will) prove the label was wrong. Prove the media was wrong. I believed that others could defy that label which defined me.
God I hate that word. I hate the feelings it brings out in me. Feelings of failure, sadness, desperation, and now anger. But I am not angry that I am infertile. I am angry that I gave up on myself. But then something happened. Something that wasn’t supposed to happen . . . not to me, not to someone with all those LABELS. Something extraordinary happened that caused me to challenge my doctors’ assumptions, that caused me to look at the LABEL tattooed on my forehead and ask:
IS IT REALLY TRUE?
AM I REALLY INFERTILE?
And then I realized it isn’t impossible. Nothing is impossible. In fact everything is POSSIBLE. And with that realization my entire world changed. My longheld beliefs about myself and my infertility CHANGED. Everything I feel and believe about what I have lived through for well over 15 years, what I tell my clients, how I look at the community and industry in which I work, has shifted. I suffered for over 15 years for no reason. There was always hope. I just wouldn’t let myself see it. But I see it now. I see HOPE everywhere, for everyone, even for ME. No one really knows who is infertile. Not even your doctor. Nothing anyone tells you has to be true. Not unless you believe it’s true.
My point is this:
Do NOT let your doctor get you down.
Do NOT let your doctor dismiss you.
Do NOT buy into the label(s).
Do NOT believe statistics.
PLEASE DO NOT BELIEVE STATISTICS.
I have finally realized that everything and anything is possible. Because it is.
ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING IS POSSIBLE!
It will happen to you in the perfect time, and in the perfect way. But you do not have to suffer while you wait. Do not do what I did. Do not buy into the labels. Do not give up or give in.
Instead of choosing the mindset of infertility, choose the mindset of belief. Choose the mindset of knowing that your time will come. Accept, believe, and KNOW that everything and anything . . . and I mean ANYTHING . . . is POSSIBLE.
Because it IS.
And I know this because after 15 years of living with the label, and living with the tattoo on my forehead, something happened which proved everyone wrong about everything. I now know that
I AM NOT INFERTILE
My body is
and so is
Filed under: adoption, Age and Infertility, Deadly Silence, Egg Donation, Faith and Infertility, Gestational Carrier, infertility in the media, Infertility In The Movies etc., Infertility on Television, IVF, Peace to Parenthood, Personal Musings, Recurrent Pregnancy Loss, Surrogacy, The Infertility Survival Handbook, The Journey to Parenthood, Thinking Out Loud, Third-Party Assisted Reproduction, Treatment, Uncategorized, visualization