Happy National infertility Awareness Week!

So, our IVM cycle didn’t work.

They were only able to retrieve 2 eggs, only 1 fertilized, and that one didn’t make it to Day 5.

Below is a picture of me, sans make-up, sans editing, anxious af, right before they took me back for what would be a 2 hour long egg retrieval procedure. (Which is more than double the normal time.)


In case you’re not sure what that entails, they stick a probe into your lady town, then a long ass needle through your lady town into your ovaries. On both sides. Then they flush fluid into the follicles of the ovaries (of which I have over 60) in hopes of getting an egg out of the follicle.


It’s about as fun as it sounds! Welcome to Bloat Town, population me, plus 2 ovaries.
I just wore real pants for the first time 2 weeks after the procedure.


Thank GOD for leggings.

     


We’re disappointed. Very disappointed. And sad. We’re ok. Trying to stay busy & distracted, which isn’t hard since we’re moving in 2.5 weeks. I only get really sad when I think about it too much.


I explain it like this- we have NEVER had good news when it comes to fertility. Ever. This is just more of the same disappointment, and we’re used to being disappointed.


We had an appointment for IVF education & we have a follow up IVM appointment in a couple of weeks to make sure we address some of the issues we had. 


It sucks that money is such a determining factor to starting a family for a lot of us. It makes me so resentful of our healthcare system. You know in the UK & Europe IVF, IUI and fertility treatments are covered? Because they actually see it as an important health issue. You know, since it is.


But here in Merca’ Viagra is covered. 

....ANYWAY....



I wanted to take a hot minute and talk about what Infertility is, what it feels like, and what it looks like...from the perspective of someone that is currently in the trenches of it.



It feels like....my husband would be better off with someone who could have kids.

Ouch, right?

 He’s never made me feel that way, and gets upset when I said it to him ( My quote was "You should’ve just married some southern baptist girl who could give you lots of kids and would stay home and cook for you.")

He made it abundantly clear that that life would not have made him happy and that I make him happy. The man is a freaking SAINT. He lets me steal his pillows & he scratches my back every night.  He’s never made me feel bad, or pressured or anything else about this except supported.
I married a good one.


It feels like....it’s my fault.

That my body doesn’t work the way it’s supposed to. Maybe I deserve this because I’m pro-choice. Maybe it’s karma coming back around. Maybe I made God mad when I became more liberal. Maybe I would be a terrible mother. Maybe I just let myself go a little bit too much. Maybe we should’ve started trying sooner.

Maybe I did this to myself in some other life & this is my punishment.

(Logically, I know it’s not. But this journey has been a bit of a crisis of faith.)




It feels like...it will never be my turn.

Since we started trying, I’ve lost track of the number of my friends and peers who have had one kid, then another, and then sometimes a 3rd. I don’t hold it against them, but it kind of feels like it was my turn about 3 years ago. I’m tired of sitting on the bench while my peers & people that started way after us (!) start & grow their families. And it’s freaking constant. There are so many pregnant people right now in my circle...it just sucks to be the forgotten one hanging out on the "no kids" bench. Again.

It makes me question myself.

Maybe it’s just because I would be a terrible mother. Maybe I’m actually a Terrible person.
Am I less of a woman bc I can’t get pregnant?

It feels like/it is...a science experiment.

After the retrieval they told us not to have sex for 2 weeks. At the time, I was perfectly fine with it, because I WAS SO TIRED of having things stuck in my vagina. I’m not even kidding. SO TIRED of laying back, breathing deeply and trying not to tense up too much while Dr. #4 sticks a probe in my lady bits & asks me if anyone has told me I have PCOS 🙄

Having a stranger sticking probes and needles and catheters up in there, through my cervix and through my vagina into my ovaries...isn’t fun. And frankly, that’s not what vaginas are for. It got so common place, I stopped shaving my legs for these appointment. (Because they don’t actually care 🤷🏻‍♀️)

Add in the injections, that we’re kind of guessing on in the first place, and it’s all just an educated guessing game. An expensive, painful guessing game. No one responds the same (which is why IVM didn’t work for me 💁🏻‍♀️)  and everybody is different.


Infertility is a physiological issue. It’s an emotional issue. It’s a mental issue. It’s a social issue. The emotional, mental & social stuff is a result of the physical disease of your reproductive organs, but it all has a circle effect. 

It’s lonely. It’s isolating. It’s never ending questions (from everyone else & yourself.) It’s opening yourself up to waves of advice & criticism & judgement & pity. It’s trying to make plans around "just in case." It’s spending thousands of dollars on a maybe. It’s injections, and bruising, and acne, and bloating & nightsweats. 

It’s planning distractions on would-be transfer days or would-be birthdays. 

It’s avoiding baby showers, scrolling past another pregnancy or birth announcement or gender reveal.

It’s having a box of baby stuff you got just in case it wasn’t available anymore by the time it finally happens to you. 

It’s living life for the possibility, and clinging to the very real relationships you have to try & stay afloat in this sea of uncertainty.

It all just kind of sucks.