It Took a Village

With the success of my first blog (many thanks for the love), my husband suggested my second entry share our story of infertility.  While we held our troubles close to home in the beginning, we found that sharing our story gleaned us tremendous support and eventually helped others in their struggle. So, away we go...

In 2004, my husband and I bought our first house after nine months of marriage and decided to begin expanding our family.  After more than a year we sought help from my Ob-Gyn. We learned quickly things were going to be a challenge and after lots of monitoring and little help from the doctor, we sought a specialist in 2005. 

Our adventure began at the office of a respected reproductive endocrinologist who administered a series of tests.  Our new doctor believed that we could get pregnant through IUI (intrauterine insemination). In the months that followed, we completed four IUI's to no avail.  Our hopes of having a child were now pushed into another year and our doctor announced his retirement. Seemed like the perfect time to take a break and reevaluate the process.

We  found an up and coming new doctor and continued our efforts.  After another series of tests and lengthy medical conversations, he diagnosed me with PCOS (polycystic ovary syndrome) and advised us that IVF (in vitro fertilization) would be our next step.  The price, literally, for having a child had just gone up.  Not only is IVF very expensive but there is an emotional and physical price as well since embryos are created in a lab and surgery with anesthesia is required. 

After much discussion and soul searching, we moved forward with our first IVF cycle.  While I responded well to medicines and we achieved several growing embryos, I did not get pregnant. 

Months later and after much budgeting, we moved forward with another IVF attempt.  Imagine our excitement when we discovered I was pregnant.  My blood tests indicated a healthy sustainable pregnancy and an ultrasound at six weeks would confirm our dream to become a family.  While the days ticked by my husband and I talked names and searched the Internet for nursery furniture. I was a bundle of nerves the day of our ultrasound as we awaited to see our baby (or babies since IVF often results in multiples).  Our doctor immediately found our little peanut and pointed out all the important features.  Then there was a long pause and the nurse left the room quickly while the doctor informed us that our baby did not have a heartbeat and I would likely miscarry in the coming weeks.  We were devastated to be so close and have the world crash down around us.  We asked lots of questions of our doctor, our faith, and of each other.  At nine weeks we lost a miracle and I found myself in a spiral of sadness.

The recovery process was a long one and eventually we decided to try again.  Our third IVF attempt was unsuccessful and had us looking more closely at other options. We looked into adoption both domestically and abroad but just didn't feel like it was right for us.  In the meantime, our doctor announced he was moving to Texas and setting up a new practice there.  We were at a crossroads in the process and took a much needed break from it all.

My husband and I were committed to becoming parents and felt that this was the right path for us.  So, we met with yet another doctor and completed a frozen embryo transfer using an embryo we created from an earlier cycle.  A positive pregnancy test followed but was met with much more skepticism.  Unfortunately, I miscarried our second child before we even made it to the ultrasound at six weeks.

The process was draining and we opted to take time off and reconnect with each other.  My husband and I took several trips together, I lost forty pounds and vowed to get healthier while our doctor pursued research into our ill-fated fertility history. 

We were eventually encouraged to run a few more obscure tests and discovered that I have an auto-immune issue that might be playing a role in our infertility. Our doctor suggested a new treatment using intralipid IV therapy once a month for two hours each session.  My husband and I attempted our fourth IVF and were skeptically happy to learn that I was pregnant for a third time. The weeks before the ultrasound were grueling as we waited to learn our fate. With my husband by my side holding my hand, our doctor completed the ultrasound and turned up the speaker in the exam room to fill it with the sound of our baby's heartbeat.  It was the single most amazing sound I had ever heard.  We continued with ultrasounds every week until we were eventually released to a regular Ob that continued to monitor our progress.

After fourteen procedures, two miscarriages, and eight long years, I am happy to report that on May 22, 2012 our daughter was born.  She is healthy and happy and her birth made the years of struggling seem so insignificant.  I never thought I would be able to say that!

My husband and I have been very open about the process and consider her our miracle of miracles.  We are reminded however of the heartaches that lead us here as we reach out to others still trying to achieve a family. There is a light at the end of the tunnel and it is worth waiting for regardless of how you get there.  Reach out to your friends and family because their support and understanding will get you through it. Trust me when I say that our support system celebrated our daughter's birth with as much vigor as we did!

Got Milk? Maybe Not...

Breastfeeding is a word that packs quite a punch.  While pregnant, I was adamant that I would breastfeed even asking advice of friends and taking a class at the hospital where I would deliver.  I desperately wanted that maternal connection with my baby in the most natural way I could imagine. 

The scene six weeks after my daughter's birth was very different than I expected.  Right from the start I struggled with producing enough breast milk for my daughter.  The lactation specialist at the hospital had numerous suggestions and I tried them all. The reality came crashing down around me that no matter how hard I was working, my body wasn't responding to the basic needs of my newborn.  I worked at length with a lactation specialist who finally said, "It is okay to quit.  You are doing everything you can.  Sometimes women with your condition (PCOS) don't make enough milk."  I was devastated. I cried and cried and insisted on trying everyday even though I knew my production wasn't increasing. I was spending more time stressing about breastfeeding than I was enjoying the early days of my precious daughter. 

With all that said and all the support I received, I was surprised by the stigma that was attached to breastfeeding. Strangers ask if you are breastfeeding like it is the most normal question to ask of someone.  The looks I received when buying formula spoke volumes and suddenly I felt like a pariah.  I knew I had done everything I could for my baby and yet I was being judged so quickly by those around me.  When I was asked the question I dreaded most, "Are you breastfeeding?", I felt the need to explain the situation and rationalize out my choice.  A choice.  A choice that every mom can make and should not feel guilty about regardless of the reason for it. 

In my search to squelch my guilt, my husband found an amazing article online.  I felt a kinship with the author as though she understood my position.  Then I made the mistake of reading the comments following her article.  People posted horrific things that judged all moms that choose not to breastfeed whether medically driven or not. 

So, I take to my new blog to put my feelings on paper.  I desperately want NOT to feel like less of a mother because I can't breastfeed.  I want to be okay with the choice I feel forced to make.  Bottles have made life at home easier and I can enjoy my daughter's first moments because I'm not stressing over the next feeding.  Do I wish things had been different? Certainly.  Can I change the way my body works?  No.  I'm coming to terms with decision to stop stressing over breastfeeding and start living again.  I just hope that I can reach out to those that insist on judging others and enlighten them on my journey.  I feel enough guilt over what I "should" be able to do for my child that I don't need your crass comments, disapproving looks, or whispers.  In the end, my daughter and I will be just fine.