So, I'm wondering if all my Infertile Myrtle's out there have ever had any of these things happen to them. . . Here, I provide a laundry list of my MOST awkward moments through this journey. . .
10) That awkward moment when your friend tells you she's pregnant, and you have to think really hard about how your face looks at that exact moment, you are relieved that your eyes are squinting and your lips are turned upward. . .a smile. . .SUCCESS!
9) That awkward moment when you're lying on your back in a freezing cold room while someone puts dye through your fallopian tubes and asks you how work is going, and how much they appreciate what you do.
8) That awkward moment when you are getting 15 vials of blood drawn and the phlebotomist is telling you how bummed he is that his wife is pregnant (you know, a damn accident).
7) That awkward moment when that same phlebotomist is telling you how bummed he is that she's pregnant. . .with a GIRL.
6) That awkward moment when your cell phone rings while your teaching a group of nine year olds and you see that it is your reproductive endocrinologist calling to give you test results. Good luck focusing on the Gold Rush!
5) That awkward moment when you're about to get a progesterone shot for your upcoming Intra-Uterine Insemination and the 45 year old woman giving you the shot is telling you about her 18 month old and starts giving you advice like she's a freaking doctor. Seriously, shut up. Why do you even work here, stupid?
4) That awkward moment when your doctor inseminates you and tells you "I think this was a good one." Ew.
3) That awkward moment when your husband tells you what it's like in his "special room."
2) That awkward moment when you burst out crying so hard that your spit hits the doctors name plate. P.S. You walked into her office looking quite put together, and now you look like a lost member of the KISS army.
1) That awkward moment when that same, stupid effing phlebotomist (see #7 and #8) starts complaining about how he has to do all the dishes during football season. Seriously, nimrod?
What awkward moments have you had? Infertility related or otherwise? I mean, please, everyone, I need a freaking good laugh!
Showing posts with label female infertility. Show all posts
Showing posts with label female infertility. Show all posts
Monday, March 10, 2014
Thursday, February 20, 2014
Loss
Recently, there have been a few loved ones around me who have passed. One was a family member, and the other a friend. A young, vibrant and wonderful person.
After I heard of a friend's husband passing, I listened to a podcast on miscarriages, though the two events are not related.
The podcast got me thinking about all of the shame, heartache and disappointment that goes along with a miscarriage. The presenters discussed how often times, women are told "Don't worry, you'll get pregnant again," as though their loss is trivial. Clearly, if you lose a child at or before 20 weeks (the definition of a miscarriage), you would not feel that your loss was trivial. Just because the child has not yet made it into the world yet, does not mean that you did not feel that you were a mother, and that this was not your child, who is now gone.
As I thought about myself and my friends who have endured a miscarriage, of course, my thinking came back around to my own infertility. The presenters of the podcast discussed the rise in depression amongst women who miscarry. Statistics were also cited to state that women who experience infertility, and then a miscarriage undergo a longer bout with depression.
But what about those of us who have yet to even know what it is to be a mother? Sometimes, I feel like my life is a constant disappointment. I feel the surge of hope, usually right around day 15 or 16 of my cycle, only to bury my head down and fight my way through the deepest, darkest valley when my cycle begins again.
I'm sure that many people think that we, as the infertile community, cannot fully understand loss (I have personally experienced a miscarriage, btw). However, I think we do. I also think it happens more frequently. I feel like the feeling of loss has a parallel with the process of weathering. Let's say that you are a healthy (i.e. not infertile) woman who has had a miscarriage. You are devastated, of course. The impact of this feeling has the fierceness of a tsunami. Your world is turned upside down, inside out, and you don't know which end is up. After a while, the pieces start to be put back together, and you begin to feel that life can continue. Maybe you even feel a sense of hope.
For an infertile woman, each month is like being a cliff, who is being beaten and bashed each month by a rolling wave of disappointment. There is no time to put anything back together, because it is always falling apart.
I think a rocky cliff is a good analogy. . .either that, or the Tom Hanks movie "The Money Pit." You could even interpret that literally and figuratively.
We shall see what the future holds.
P.S. If you are not a Stuff Mom Never Told You podcast listener, check them out. They do their research, cite their sources, and are generally quite entertaining. Tip o' the cap, smnty!
After I heard of a friend's husband passing, I listened to a podcast on miscarriages, though the two events are not related.
The podcast got me thinking about all of the shame, heartache and disappointment that goes along with a miscarriage. The presenters discussed how often times, women are told "Don't worry, you'll get pregnant again," as though their loss is trivial. Clearly, if you lose a child at or before 20 weeks (the definition of a miscarriage), you would not feel that your loss was trivial. Just because the child has not yet made it into the world yet, does not mean that you did not feel that you were a mother, and that this was not your child, who is now gone.
As I thought about myself and my friends who have endured a miscarriage, of course, my thinking came back around to my own infertility. The presenters of the podcast discussed the rise in depression amongst women who miscarry. Statistics were also cited to state that women who experience infertility, and then a miscarriage undergo a longer bout with depression.
But what about those of us who have yet to even know what it is to be a mother? Sometimes, I feel like my life is a constant disappointment. I feel the surge of hope, usually right around day 15 or 16 of my cycle, only to bury my head down and fight my way through the deepest, darkest valley when my cycle begins again.
I'm sure that many people think that we, as the infertile community, cannot fully understand loss (I have personally experienced a miscarriage, btw). However, I think we do. I also think it happens more frequently. I feel like the feeling of loss has a parallel with the process of weathering. Let's say that you are a healthy (i.e. not infertile) woman who has had a miscarriage. You are devastated, of course. The impact of this feeling has the fierceness of a tsunami. Your world is turned upside down, inside out, and you don't know which end is up. After a while, the pieces start to be put back together, and you begin to feel that life can continue. Maybe you even feel a sense of hope.
For an infertile woman, each month is like being a cliff, who is being beaten and bashed each month by a rolling wave of disappointment. There is no time to put anything back together, because it is always falling apart.
I think a rocky cliff is a good analogy. . .either that, or the Tom Hanks movie "The Money Pit." You could even interpret that literally and figuratively.
We shall see what the future holds.
P.S. If you are not a Stuff Mom Never Told You podcast listener, check them out. They do their research, cite their sources, and are generally quite entertaining. Tip o' the cap, smnty!
Wednesday, January 15, 2014
Testing your ovarian reserve (AMH). Is it accurate?
So I'm sure that the spike in my page views was full of people who were thinking, "Ew, why is she talking about this?" "This won't happen to me." and "If I can't get pregnant, I'll just adopt, babies from Africa are a-DOR-able!"
These were pretty much my thoughts as well, before I fell down the rabbit hole.
The thing is, infertility affects approximately one in ten couples. That doesn't seem like too many, but when I think about it, say, in terms of my students in my classroom, that means that 3 of them are going to have to deal with this in their lifetime, at least. There are a lot of problems plaguing our environment that people are speculating are contributing to the rise in infertility. Another aspect that people don't consider, is the fact that if you are a woman who will suffer from premature ovarian failure (or early menopause), you may not know until it is too late. By the time my husband and I were ready to consider having children, my body was already in a state of decline.
Let us begin, however, with what you can expect if you are diagnosed with infertility. Mine is unexplained. I've been to many doctors who applaud my healthy "numbers." They really don't know why I can't get pregnant. All of my lady numbers are in the normal range, some on the lower end, but still within the normal range.
In the beginning, I thought, "Okay, we'll go see this other doctor, and she'll tell me everything is fine, and we may just need more time." However, she did not say that. She looked at ONE number on my chart that gave her pause. It's called Anti-mullerian hormone, or AMH. It is basically determined in a blood test to find out how many eggs you have left in your ovaries. . .FUN! So, they took a look at my blood and said, "Woah, girl, you are really on the low end." So I cried, pulled myself together, cried some more, and then decided that we needed to start some invasive procedures.
We tried three rounds of IUI (turkey basting), to no avail, and I told them I wanted my AMH tested again. They assured me that it was not going to be much different...
THEY. WERE. WRONG.
So, this "reserve" level (I feel like my ovaries are a fine wine), should be what you are born with, and decline over time. The only direction it should go is down, right? As eggs die off, there are fewer, hence a lower AMH. Well, when I went back and got tested again, it was UP. Nearly a whole point. In these matters, a point can mean everything.
I asked my doctor, "What is this? Why the change?" to which she replied that it was not an exact science and they're still working out the kinks.
And this is the part that really bothers me. Just the week before, this same doctor had told me that based on my current levels (before the new blood test), I should consider IVF. In-Vitro Fertilization. I'm sure they have higher success rates, and no doctor wants their patient to suffer through the agonizing hurry up and wait scenario, but the fact that she told me that one of my best chances was to pay for a $20-30,000 procedure was based on an inaccurate number that they know little about? Sounds sketchy to me.
So, here's where the insecurity and uncertainty comes in. My husband and I have worked really hard to save what we do have, and of course it's not enough, but do we throw it all at IVF and hope for the best? Should we start to consider adoption? It's hard to know which direction to go when the information you are getting from your doctor is based on a science that appears to be in it's infancy.
I will recommend, however, that even though my numbers are off, they are still at the low end. Knowledge is power. If you are thinking of having a family, I would urge you to just ask your doctor to perform this simple blood test. You may think you know how you will feel, but in my humble opinion, I wish that I would have known there was a test like this out there. I believe it would have let me understand what was going on in my body before there was really a problem to worry about. Even if I still had waited to have children, it would have been a choice that I would have made and I would have been more accepting of the idea that I may never carry a child. All I'm saying is, it couldn't hurt to know.
These were pretty much my thoughts as well, before I fell down the rabbit hole.
The thing is, infertility affects approximately one in ten couples. That doesn't seem like too many, but when I think about it, say, in terms of my students in my classroom, that means that 3 of them are going to have to deal with this in their lifetime, at least. There are a lot of problems plaguing our environment that people are speculating are contributing to the rise in infertility. Another aspect that people don't consider, is the fact that if you are a woman who will suffer from premature ovarian failure (or early menopause), you may not know until it is too late. By the time my husband and I were ready to consider having children, my body was already in a state of decline.
Let us begin, however, with what you can expect if you are diagnosed with infertility. Mine is unexplained. I've been to many doctors who applaud my healthy "numbers." They really don't know why I can't get pregnant. All of my lady numbers are in the normal range, some on the lower end, but still within the normal range.
In the beginning, I thought, "Okay, we'll go see this other doctor, and she'll tell me everything is fine, and we may just need more time." However, she did not say that. She looked at ONE number on my chart that gave her pause. It's called Anti-mullerian hormone, or AMH. It is basically determined in a blood test to find out how many eggs you have left in your ovaries. . .FUN! So, they took a look at my blood and said, "Woah, girl, you are really on the low end." So I cried, pulled myself together, cried some more, and then decided that we needed to start some invasive procedures.
We tried three rounds of IUI (turkey basting), to no avail, and I told them I wanted my AMH tested again. They assured me that it was not going to be much different...
THEY. WERE. WRONG.
So, this "reserve" level (I feel like my ovaries are a fine wine), should be what you are born with, and decline over time. The only direction it should go is down, right? As eggs die off, there are fewer, hence a lower AMH. Well, when I went back and got tested again, it was UP. Nearly a whole point. In these matters, a point can mean everything.
I asked my doctor, "What is this? Why the change?" to which she replied that it was not an exact science and they're still working out the kinks.
And this is the part that really bothers me. Just the week before, this same doctor had told me that based on my current levels (before the new blood test), I should consider IVF. In-Vitro Fertilization. I'm sure they have higher success rates, and no doctor wants their patient to suffer through the agonizing hurry up and wait scenario, but the fact that she told me that one of my best chances was to pay for a $20-30,000 procedure was based on an inaccurate number that they know little about? Sounds sketchy to me.
So, here's where the insecurity and uncertainty comes in. My husband and I have worked really hard to save what we do have, and of course it's not enough, but do we throw it all at IVF and hope for the best? Should we start to consider adoption? It's hard to know which direction to go when the information you are getting from your doctor is based on a science that appears to be in it's infancy.
I will recommend, however, that even though my numbers are off, they are still at the low end. Knowledge is power. If you are thinking of having a family, I would urge you to just ask your doctor to perform this simple blood test. You may think you know how you will feel, but in my humble opinion, I wish that I would have known there was a test like this out there. I believe it would have let me understand what was going on in my body before there was really a problem to worry about. Even if I still had waited to have children, it would have been a choice that I would have made and I would have been more accepting of the idea that I may never carry a child. All I'm saying is, it couldn't hurt to know.
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