What people are saying about In-vitro Fertilization: The Ultimate Reality Game
“This book speaks to the emotions and trials of in vitro (IVF) procedures. It is a personal journal of one woman who writes for a boatload of all of us having gone through or going through this difficult time of a woman's life. this journal is not about the end result but the journey to motherhood taking the path down the IVF road...as arduous as it is (was) for those travelers. I laughed. I cried. I picked up the phone and called a girlfriend who shared the experience of IVF and told her to buy it.” S. Ballard
“This book really does feel like a reality game...up and down, roller coaster, honest. Having people close to me go through years of infertility treatments The ultimate Fertility Reality Game really allowed me to have insight into the trials and tribulations of IVF. I really wish this book had been around when my sister went through years of infertility treatments.” SMbyC
In-Vitro Fertilization: the Ultimate Reality Game
a true IVF story
by
Karen Daniels
SMASHWORDS Edition
Copyright
© 2011 Karen Daniels
All rights reserved
This book is available in print at most online retailers
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This
ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may
not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to
share this book with another person, please purchase an additional
copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not
purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please
return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for
respecting the hard work of this author.
Dedicated
to all Moms - wanna be and already there.
Keep moving forward.
You’re awesome.
Acknowledgements
Thank
you to my fellow PPSers and other IVF journeyers, brave women all. To
C – who was there from the beginning and held my hand. And to
S.G.B. for support and editing in all areas of my life.
Table of Contents
Chapter 3- Intermission: IVF Superstitions
Chapter 4- My Real Emotional Journey Begins
Chapter 5- Intermission: A True September 11 Story
Chapter 7- Intermission: A Poem “Damn it, I want a Baby”
Chapter 10- Intermission: Prayer and IVF
Chapter 12- Intermission: Picking an Egg Donor
Chapter 15- Intermission: The Lady’s Guide to IVF Lingo
Chapter 16- Between Cycles, Surgery
Chapter 17- Intermission: Infertility Resources
Chapter 18- Post Fibroid Surgery
Chapter 20- Embryo Transfer and the Dreaded Two Week Wait
Chapter 22- Conclusion: Final Thoughts
Chapter
1: Introduction
You want a baby. And the old
tried and true, wham bam, pregnant ma’am, didn’t work for you.
You’ve even tried what you thought would be the magic bullet:
in-vitro fertilization. And even that didn’t work the first time.
I’ve been right where you are. No one wants to become an in-vitro Veteran. But here you are. I can tell you, you’re in good company. Many a fine woman has stood right where you are. Unfortunately, there are lots of us out here. The up side is we’re a pretty cool group. You will get through this, and you will be the stronger for it.
I offer my journey to you as a form of saying you’re not alone. No matter how bad it gets, no matter how many emotionally induced roller coasters you must ride until you get to the end of your journey, be proud of who you are – even when you are at your worst.
I would also like to offer you a little hope because often there are happy endings – children at the end of the long dark IVF tunnel; your children. I connected with a group of about 20 women early on and out of that number, all but 2 are now moms. The other 2 women called an end to their search for children. Some adopted, some used donor eggs, donor sperm, both, neither, and any permutation you can think of. We all came to be Moms in our own unique way. And so will you.
I began my IVF journey when I was 44. I had my first child at age 46. What happened in between those points of time are contained in this book. This is not a story for the faint of heart. This is my journal – verbatim – raw - uncensored. The only things changed are, as they say, names, to protect the innocent. So prepare yourself for the blow by blow ordeal of one IVF veteran who lived to tell the tale.
So, if you’re ready to
begin accept the insanity because you are about to enter the ultimate
intimate reality game: In-vitro
Fertilization.
Chapter
2: In the beginning
From
my journal February, 2001.
Yesterday we got the news that one of the measurements of my husbands sperm, the morphology (shape), was a much lower percentage than normal. All along I was prepared for something to be screwy with my system. After all, I’m 44 and as a woman there’s just so much more that can go wrong. So, I’d prepped myself emotionally, at least as much as you can, to get news that my eggs, or my something, weren’t performing as they should. And in fact, that still may be the case. But now we know at least partly why, after several years of unprotected sex and more than a year of really trying for a baby, we have not met with success.
But sperm issues I was unprepared for. I was home alone when I called for the test results and the nurse who was looking at it for the first time, said, “Let’s see, the Kruger is at 4 and we like to see 14 which means if you’re going right to IVF you’ll probably want to use ICSI and … I stopped hearing for a moment. What was the Kruger? I couldn’t remember. And what was ICSI? Again, no idea. Oh, I’d read the papers they’d sent home with us after our initial pre testing consultation. But all the high tech terms, well, they weren’t going to apply to us anyway. I have a natural scientific curiosity about things as does my Chemist husband, but I just didn’t want my mind to go there. We’d had those “what if” conversations but that was merely intellectual exercise with no emotions behind it. Some part of me tuned back into the phone conversation to ask, “How much would a round of In-Vitro Fertilization cost?” They’d have to have the money person call back. I had no real reaction yet, but immediately got online and went to my doctor’s website to at least understand the terms. Kruger—the test to see how many normally shaped sperm there are. ICSI, Intracytoplasmic sperm injection. They could retrieve my eggs and inject some of the good sperm right into the egg…
Suddenly I was faced with the concept of going from simple mild assistance, you know, a little clomid to increase my egg production, maybe going so far as to wash and concentrate my husbands sperm and having it turkey basted into my uterus at the right time, to the ultimate high tech solution for reproduction.
I looked up IVF on the site, this time reading it as if it applied to me. The simple, we stimulate your ovaries to produce more than one egg, retrieve the eggs, fertilize them, and put them back into the uterus, sounded not so bad. The details were more daunting. 21 days of the pill, then on day 21 start 10-12 days of Lupron shots, then another approximately 9 days of intra muscular gonadotropin shots, the next day a hCG shot to stimulate ovulation. Two days later, egg pick up, an out patient procedure with anesthesia. Eggs are fertilized with ICSI. Some days later the embryos are transferred into the uterus. After all that I’m ordered to bed rest for 2 days which I’m absolutely sure I’d have no objections at that point. Progesterone is injected up until pregnancy is confirmed and if yes, then continued for a total of six weeks following embryo transfer and then for another 4 weeks by vaginal suppository. And then the possibility of more than one baby at a time….
My mind was reeling. I wondered if I really wanted to put myself through all that. Even while I was voicing my concerns deep inside I knew I would because the alternative was no children or adoption (problematic with our ages. I was already in my 40’s and my husband is 20 years older than I). Then I came back to the original starting point, the sperm results. I had to tell my husband. Was he going to think himself less of a man? Since I’d already been prepared emotionally, knowing that part of me would fundamentally feel as if I’d failed as a woman if I could not produce offspring, I was pretty certain he’d have some reaction, even if he didn’t show it outwardly.
I spent the afternoon trying to get in touch with how I felt so I could help my husband if he needed it. I found a reservoir of anger, not at my husband, but on a more basic level. Why, because of a male factor, did I, my body, have to go through all of these steps? No matter where the glitch in our mutual fertility occurred it was my body that would pay the price. Was this the penalty for being able to create within our bodies? I know this has always been so, and as my mom reminded me, men have in the past always been able to impregnate then walk away, while for women it was more than likely a life-long effect. So, I saw myself as coming from this long line of women who carry this privilege/burden within their bodies. Here I was. Feeling a little sorry for myself.
The information seemed to affect my husband in two ways. Initially anger, which is his usual reaction to overwhelming emotional stimuli. And it ignited his fight or flight response—in this case the fight. He felt indignation that nothing was going to tell him he couldn’t procreate. His desire for a child went up. He said if I was willing to go through IVF he felt there was a good chance he could vindicate himself. He wondered how this would affect his sex drive, would it go up as if he had something to really prove now?
I wondered if I now looked at him as less of a man, knowing I’m subjected to the same society of programming as anyone. Is male fertility equated to being a man? I know, as I sit here recording all this, that these are issues we’re going to be dealing with as we embark on this journey.
Today I spoke with my mother. We tried to joke of multiple babies at once. Would she move in if we needed help? How would we handle twins or triplets?
I went for a long walk, trying to enjoy the first sun after a week of rain. In my mind I first thought about giving up my office space so mom, or whomever, could come and help out for 6 months. I resist that idea. My office/writing space is sacred to me. If I lost that would I go even more insane than just the normal insanity that comes with being first time parents? I know my husband feels the same way about his office. Perhaps if I redesigned the living room dining room area into a bedroom sitting room we could all have occasional privacy. Then there was the idea of putting the baby/babies into our master suite and leaving the guest room as a guest room. Was that wise? Healthy?
And then, there’s the money issue. My husband teaches. Well, that means we’re not rolling in the dough. And each round of IVF with ICSI and perhaps assisted egg hatching would cost up about $13,000—yikes! Where would that come from? How many rounds can we afford to go? If I have excess eggs the first time that can be frozen the price goes down considerably for the next procedure. Still…I tell myself, I know children are expensive. This is the least of it.
So on my walk today I come to the thought that, money issue aside, I’ll mentally commit to 3 rounds, subject to change when we meet with the doctor in 10 days to go over all our options. I need a plan. Plans help me function. And my husband’s a percentage player. He wants to know what are our odds each round? That will determine how far, how many…we kind of agree, if we can go a few rounds and have a better than 50/50 shot of success it’s worth the emotional, physical, and financial investment.
I wonder, what if they inject the sperm but still no go? What if it’s the sperm and egg both that don’t work? Knowing my eggs are as mature as I, perhaps an anonymous donor egg and sperm from one of my brothers? Would that be too weird?
On and on the questions go in my mind. What if it doesn’t work? What if it does and we have quintuplets? What about selective reduction? Could I, would I? If it was to help ensure the health of the remaining embryos, yes, probably. But if it was only because the thought of multiples is daunting, or as my friend says, a litter, is that reason enough? Would it be a risk to the other embryos?
And then my spiritual beliefs. If children are meant to be for us, wouldn’t it just happen? Though if I broke a bone I wouldn’t hesitate to use what science had to offer to mend it. Is this any different? Something is broken. Are we playing God/dess when we shouldn’t? Or is all of this part of God/dess, meant for those of us who need a medical boost to achieve family?
I have no answers, even for myself at this point. And this is only the beginning.
March 6, 2001
Yesterday we met with the doctor. Reality check. As it turns out it really doesn’t matter about my husband’s sperm—all we need are a few good ones and even with his percentage there are still thousands to choose from. I admit that my anger at the male female thing has reared up big time. According to statistics, the success of in-vitro is related to the age of my eggs, in fact it’s a rather dauntingly low percentage. He told us 8-25% and of course I get stuck on the 8% and I know this doctor’s stats are higher than many. The book we have says IVF with ICSI for women over 40 is 5-10%. That’s lots of money and emotional investment with not a great chance. Donor eggs is an answer. Young, nonwrinkled, unscarred, vigorous eggs. I can’t tell you how much that thought depresses me. I want my own DNA passed on. I know, many mothers will tell you that it doesn’t matter. Motherhood is motherhood. But I, and my husband, seem to have considerably less enthusiasm when we consider being parents without my genetics involved. We can only afford 2 rounds of IVF. In 3 days the doctor will do a mock transfer—a practice session for placing the eggs in my uterus. Then next week, when my cycle begins I’ll start on birth control pills and then on fertility drugs for super ovulation. How my ovaries respond to those drugs will determine if we go a complete cycle or not.
I don’t know why. Usually I’m one of those that look at odds and decides they don’t apply to me. And I’m usually right. In this case I find myself believing them—that my chances are slim. I’m depressed and have this heavy sense of grief, as if it’s already failed. Does this mean it will? Should I not do it? I don’t know why I’m depressed. It hasn’t not worked yet!
Chapter 3: Intermission, IVF Superstitions
Things rumored to increase your chances for successful IVF – all of which, at one time or another, have been tried by desperate IVF veterans.
FOOD/DRINK
Eat pineapples
Eat Papaya
Eat Nuts
Don’t eat nuts
Drink green tea
Drink black tea
Don’t drink tea
Eat yams
Sip wine
Get drunk
Don’t Drink
SUPERSTITIONS
Never ever let your cat sleep on your lap as it might make your uterus too warm
If you want 2 children plant 2 rose bushes and say hello to them every morning
Get drunk
Don’t move a muscle for 3 days after your transfer
Pretend you never had a transfer
Sing lullabies to your up-until-now empty womb
Get a massage
Pray
Curse God
Cry like a baby
Buy maternity clothes
Buy baby clothes
Get rid of baby clothes and anything having to do with babies
Paint the nursery
Hang booties over the entrance to intended nursery
Nail the nursery shut
Have sex
Don’t let a penis near you
Fall in love with your fertility doctor
Hate your fertility doctor
Name your new dog after your fertility doctor
Have an orgasm the night before a transfer
Get really really sick the day of transfer
Plan a big expensive trip with nonrefundable tickets
Assume the worst
Assume the best
I saved this one for last as it might actually really work: Acupuncture before and during your IVF cycle.
Chapter 4: My Real Emotional Journey Begins
Cycles 1&2
Day 1 March 16, 2001
I’m so anxious. Two days ago I had some spotting so I immediately called the docs office to say it was day one and I needed to come in on day 3 (today). Spotting stopped. My period didn’t start until today. I feel disappointed with myself that it didn’t start when I wanted it to. What does it matter? Except that I’m anxious to get going…plus I took the birth control pill this morning—I thought I’d gotten instructions to start it on day 1. Turns out I was supposed to wait until I saw the nurse practitioner. I feel like I did something wrong. I need to relax a little in all this or I’m going to drive myself crazy. We’ll probably give them the money for 1 cycle today. And they’re supposed to go over the entire approximately 40 day cycle so we know exactly what to expect when. Too Late. I’m already crazy. Surrender to the universe. That’s my mantra for the day.
April 9, 2001
We had to postpone everything. When we went in last month we were told that my Rubella vaccination had worn off—in other words I have no immunity to Rubella. Not a problem except if I’m exposed to it when I’m pregnant. I wrestled with myself. Do I do the vaccination and wait for 3 months? I was so geared up and ready to go. If I’m honest, frantic is the right word. My husband, being the voice of reason, said this is something we can control. So I went ahead and had the vaccination which means embryo transfer cannot occur for 90 days after that—which is June 21. Now, since it’s a 40+ day cycle this means that we can probably start with the pill on my May cycle.
Since we postponed I feel terrible. It’s as if I wanted to barrel ahead so I couldn’t give things much thought and now I’m forced to watch the calendar days go slowly by. On top of that we have to make sure we don’t get pregnant so now after all this time of gearing up for my fertile time we now have to avoid it—or take certain precautions. I’m going through my days, writing some, marketing, generally giving the appearance of living my life. But inside there is really only one thing. baby. baby baby baby. When? My internal tuning fork is already set to June and I find myself doing what I despise in others—biding my time. Not really living fully. I tell myself to be in the here and now but they are only words and my heart is beating for motherhood. Outwardly I’m still my relatively calm self, though more moody than usual. Who would know inside I’m a cesspool of conflicting emotions? My husband and I pass some of the time joking about names. I really like Quasar. He says he doesn’t want to do that to a kid. We joke about what if it’s quintuplets? Do we name them all after one category? Spices? Rosemary, Sage, Cinnamon, Nutmeg, and Marjoram. Or famous people? William Tecumseh (family name) and Betsy Ross. Flowers? Rose, Tulip…you get the idea. I’m a science fiction writer. I like Quasar, Nova, Pulsar, Star and Borealis. Or ancient Gods and Goddesses…Thor and Aphrodite and Isis…my husband is more practical. Jack, Bill, Jeff, Mary, and Marie. These are the moments when we smile and laugh. And how will we fit 5 cribs in the room? These conversations are fun and funny for us. Much needed during this challenging time.