Subject of the day-Infertility

Infertility sucks! Those of us that have gone through it,or are going through it, live in a completely different world than those who have not. Because, really, you never get through to the other side. Just like any struggle you go through in life, it forever changes you, warps your view, and makes you different from others. I honestly could write a series of books about my struggle with infertility. Here is a condensed version.

I was diagnosed with PCOS in 1991, after years of symptoms. Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome has lots of different symptoms, not all of which every sufferer displays. The biggest is infertility. When I was diagnosed I was single, but asked about having children. I was told that when the time came I would be given clomid, and would be able to get pregnant. I was married in 1997, but waited until the beginning of 1999 to go off of birth control, which controlled my pcos symptoms. When I wasn't pregnant by the end of 2000, I went to an OB to get the clomid as well as a "new" drug they were using to fight pcos. Umm, no! I was not so nicely told that I needed to go home and lose weight. That the drug, Metformin, which is a diabetic drug, still wasn't approved by the FDA for treatment of PCOS. Nevermind that every magazine I read said to go to the doctor and get on the met. No, this doc had all the answers. My problem was my weight, not the PCOS. So, I was sent home with a pack of birth control pills to "jump start" my system, and told to come back when I was 35. At the time, I was 33. Needless to say, I never saw that skinny bitch again. Another two and a half years went by, and I found a new OB, also skinny, but not a bitch. I got my met, and some clomid. Thirteen rounds to be exact. And four iui's, two miscarriages and a referral to a Reproductive specialist with "a bad bedside manner", which was an understatment. Crabby Australian R.E. insisted my only chance was IVF. After that failed, CAD, as we will call him here, said my only chance was to use donor eggs. I was 38 and the well was dry. I took a break. I had it in my head that I would wait until I was 40, and then start the adoption process. In the meantime, everyone around me was pregnant. Or talking about getting pregnant. Or not getting pregnant. Or how they would never do anything artificial to get pregnant. I sat there in pained silence, thinking that I would be injected with monkey guts if it could get me pregnant. My ache for a baby colored my entire world. At the same time, I just could feel that a presence was out there, waiting.

In December of 2006, I was 39, 3 months from 40. I had done one more round of clomid in September, when I got a strange call from the pharmacy that it was ready. It had to have been a very old order. My Ob consented, but made me go in. It didn't work, and she said it was time to move on to adoption, but I still was waiting for my 40th. December 12th was the 2 year anniversary of my first due date. I highly suspected I was pregnant, though that was nothing new. If I had all the money back that I spent on pregnancy tests (and still do), I could send my daughter to Yale. I was going to be in the area that my doctors were the next day, but I just could not jinx myself by testing that day. The next day. 12/13/06, I went shopping with my mom on our annnual Chrsitmas shopping trip. All day I knew I would be stopping at Target to get a test, but didn't say anything. I never told anyone when I was testing, not even my husband. When I got home, I took the test. It was digital, because that was the cheapest that day. My pug Simon was in the bathroom with me, as always. OMG! Pregnant. Where is the not? It always said not pregnant. Deep down, though, I had known for days. I was pregnant. No fertility meds. One of my rotten eggs had worked. I called Chet at work. I called my mom, who I was with all day. And, I called the office of CAD, because even though he was an ahole, I knew he would do everything to sustain the pregnancy. And he did. It was a very bumpy ride. I never believed the entire pregnancy that I was really going to go home with Sophie. But, I did! One, good, wonderful, beautiful egg made it through! The minute I saw her face, I knew her. This was the spirit that was always out there, and now she is here, blessing my life every second of every day for almost 20 months. Even with her, the pain is still there. Siblings? I get asked all the time. I don't know. We will see what is in store. Our family may very well be complete, though not how we planned or hoped. I would love a sibling or two for Sophie, but it is in Gods hands. I do know that I will never be part of the fertile club. As truly happy as I am at the announcement of every new pregnancy, it still hurts every time. That will never go away.