Oh how I hate hearing this...
I feel so distant to all my friends. At this point in their lives, none of them understand what infertility means and most of them doesn't even have the desire to have children yet. It's not their fault, I understand. This is just not something that everyone has to deal with. I am surprised, however, at the lack of knowledge of how our reproduction system works as half of my friends doesn't even know what ovulation means.
How can I expect them to even begin to feel what I have to go through, if they don't even know how the reproductive system works? Ovulation, fertilization, embryos, ovaries, sperm count, fallopian tubes, egg quality, are all like a foreign language to them. It's just too much to take in, and frankly, most of them will probably never have to learn in detail what those words mean. To them, those terms will only be forgotten vocabulary from high school biology. But to us, people dealing with infertility, each and every word have burnt a scar in our hearts.
I have spoken openly about my infertility to all my friends and everyone/anyone who is interested. I have made it my mission to educate them about what infertility is. It's certainly not an easy task. Most people will sympathize with me when I tell them the amount of needles I have to stick myself with through the IVF process, as people can relate to needles and what it feels like when it pierces through our skin.
But of course, the conversation is short-lived, as most people will reply with those dreaded words, "Don't worry, you're young, it will happen" or "Don't stress out! Take a vacation with your husband and it'll happen!" Then they start to lose interest when I try to explain and educate them about infertility. It is so frustrating to me that people just don't want to be educated on the topic. Nevertheless, it will be my mission to heighten infertility awareness as I know there are people out there willing to listen.
Saturday 5 May 2012
Thursday 3 May 2012
Number 2 and complete failure
I wanted to keep myself away from googling/blogging/reading anything IVF related during my second cycle. I wanted to keep myself busy, not thinking about the things that could go wrong. Well, the results are in and I didn't even have a chance.
Protocol: Antagonist estrogen priming (exactly the same as #1)
# Days of stimulation: 12
Follicle count before ER: 11 total, 4 above 17mm, the rest around 15-16.
Eggs retrieved: 6
# fertilized with ICSI: 0
No embryos to transfer
I knew it wasn't good news when it was my doctor and not the nurse that called to give me the stats on fertilization. What a hard blow. I was told that my egg quality was very poor and the embryoligist tried injecting them with sperm anyway but none fertilized. My RE may not recommend another cycle for me.
I was a bit numb and speechless at first, then angry. How was this possible? I'm only 27. I was not told that I had egg quality issues in my first cycle. Yes, only 1 egg made it out of the 10 in the first round, but I thought that was just plain bad luck. I felt completely beat down and lost. I was also told during this cycle that I may have a fluid-filled tube (hydrosalphinx) on the left. To add to my list of problems, now I have egg quality issues.What does this all mean? A second opinion? Surgery? Donor eggs? Adoption? Or giving up all together?
This is all so unfair. The typical 27 year-old wouldn't even be anywhere close to encountering the problems I'm faced with. They'd be having fun, partying, or just enjoying life as newlyweds. Not for me, not for us.
I think people don't realize what a big feat it is to be able to have children. Maybe it was because of my age, being diagnosed with endo and infertility didn't beat me down too much at first. I didn't know what this meant and the long road that would be ahead of me. Even people faced with infertility comes to a realization that "oh my god, this is really happening. It really is THAT difficult." The first time you hear your options and the stats about IUI/IVF, it seemed probable, and trying to pregnant just meant sticking yourself with needles and being probed by an ultrasound stick, instead of the normal routine. "I could get used to that," I thought.
What I can't get used to, is losing your baby after you've been tested positive. Being told that I still have a very good chance of getting pregnant and having that all taken away from me in a second. Who knew this would forever be a part of my history?
It'll take me a while to have it all sink in. In the mean time, I've allowed myself to be all gloom and doom. I thought about my grandparents and what it means to get old, having your health fail you little by little, day by day. I spent a week with my grandparents last month and it opened my eyes to living life in retirement. I can't express the bitter-sweetness of the interdependence that my grandparents have between each other, and the self-less love that my aunt and uncle give each day in caring for my grandparents.
What if I didn't have any loved ones? I have no siblings. No cousins within 2000 miles of me. All my loved ones would have passed when I turn 80. What would my life be like when I'm old without children if my husband were to leave this world before me? I can not imagine when the day comes that I would need help just to walk across the street and there would be no one there to help me. Would this be my fate?
Sometimes I'd sit by the window, stare out into the world outside my living room, and watch people walk by. What kind of life are they leading? Do they have family and loved ones? Are they happy? Have they mourn the lost of a loved one? What are their dreams and aspirations? My own life would then feel muted as I wonder about the life of others. Somehow this eases the pain but leaves me empty and lost within my own world, looking out behind glass walls.
Protocol: Antagonist estrogen priming (exactly the same as #1)
# Days of stimulation: 12
Follicle count before ER: 11 total, 4 above 17mm, the rest around 15-16.
Eggs retrieved: 6
# fertilized with ICSI: 0
No embryos to transfer
I knew it wasn't good news when it was my doctor and not the nurse that called to give me the stats on fertilization. What a hard blow. I was told that my egg quality was very poor and the embryoligist tried injecting them with sperm anyway but none fertilized. My RE may not recommend another cycle for me.
I was a bit numb and speechless at first, then angry. How was this possible? I'm only 27. I was not told that I had egg quality issues in my first cycle. Yes, only 1 egg made it out of the 10 in the first round, but I thought that was just plain bad luck. I felt completely beat down and lost. I was also told during this cycle that I may have a fluid-filled tube (hydrosalphinx) on the left. To add to my list of problems, now I have egg quality issues.What does this all mean? A second opinion? Surgery? Donor eggs? Adoption? Or giving up all together?
This is all so unfair. The typical 27 year-old wouldn't even be anywhere close to encountering the problems I'm faced with. They'd be having fun, partying, or just enjoying life as newlyweds. Not for me, not for us.
I think people don't realize what a big feat it is to be able to have children. Maybe it was because of my age, being diagnosed with endo and infertility didn't beat me down too much at first. I didn't know what this meant and the long road that would be ahead of me. Even people faced with infertility comes to a realization that "oh my god, this is really happening. It really is THAT difficult." The first time you hear your options and the stats about IUI/IVF, it seemed probable, and trying to pregnant just meant sticking yourself with needles and being probed by an ultrasound stick, instead of the normal routine. "I could get used to that," I thought.
What I can't get used to, is losing your baby after you've been tested positive. Being told that I still have a very good chance of getting pregnant and having that all taken away from me in a second. Who knew this would forever be a part of my history?
It'll take me a while to have it all sink in. In the mean time, I've allowed myself to be all gloom and doom. I thought about my grandparents and what it means to get old, having your health fail you little by little, day by day. I spent a week with my grandparents last month and it opened my eyes to living life in retirement. I can't express the bitter-sweetness of the interdependence that my grandparents have between each other, and the self-less love that my aunt and uncle give each day in caring for my grandparents.
What if I didn't have any loved ones? I have no siblings. No cousins within 2000 miles of me. All my loved ones would have passed when I turn 80. What would my life be like when I'm old without children if my husband were to leave this world before me? I can not imagine when the day comes that I would need help just to walk across the street and there would be no one there to help me. Would this be my fate?
Sometimes I'd sit by the window, stare out into the world outside my living room, and watch people walk by. What kind of life are they leading? Do they have family and loved ones? Are they happy? Have they mourn the lost of a loved one? What are their dreams and aspirations? My own life would then feel muted as I wonder about the life of others. Somehow this eases the pain but leaves me empty and lost within my own world, looking out behind glass walls.
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