Would you like my leftover meds?

Today I got to visit with a friend of mine who has been battling infertility for over seven years; let's call her my Infertile Warrior Friend, or I.W.F. for short. She and her husband had just finished a long year of unsuccessful infertility treatments and moved halfway across the country. Just when they weren't looking, they conceived naturally. A lucky, but painful, cyst on her ovary helped keep her progesterone levels up to help support the early pregnancy and avoid yet another heart breaking miscarriage. Her HCG levels have risen well, and they've even been fortunate enough to see the little nugget on ultrasound. I.W.F. is not out of the woods on this one by any means, but she's creeping up on eight weeks of a healthy pregnancy. All of this is making me so very hopeful for our own story.

This week, I.W.F. is in town visiting family. As an act of faith, she brought her spare meds with her to give to me for my upcoming IVF cycle. Since prescriptions for infertility are a horribly expensive (not covered by insurance) part of the process, I gladly accepted this beautiful, generous gift. Right now, Wisehubby is cataloguing our stash of meds (I.W.F.'s and our own) so that we can take it to our appointment in September with the male Dr. B.

I tell you all of this because I am so grateful to have a growing network of support in my real life. It is hard to open up about infertility, but once you do, you might just be surprised by who in your life can help to hold you up and provide realistic hope when things are tough.

When I put all of our IF questions on the back burner this spring, I didn't stop my campaign of honesty. Through that, I learned that a friend from church had struggled to conceive her two beautiful baby boys. When it seems like everyone at church is trying to overpopulate the planet, she'll sometimes lean in with a snarky or sweet comment that hits the spot. These infertile friendships have meant more to me than most anyone could ever know, except for maybe the brave women who have opened up with me.

Pay it forward might seem cliche, yet I look forward to a day in the near future when, after conceiving and seeing my own little Wisebaby (babies?) on ultrasound, I can take my own leap of faith, call up Dear Friend and ask her, "Would you like my leftover meds?"

Time off for good behavior

After my last post, Wisesister called and suggested that my coping mechanisms weren't doing the trick. She commended me for using Twitter and Blogger to express my feelings, but pointed out that I was becoming increasingly negative and hopeless. She suggested that I take a break from the internet, talk to a counselor, and focus on the positive things while we waited for Wisehubby to heal. I was skeptical at first, but Wisesister gives the best advice, so I took it.

Wisehubby and I called the male Dr. B's office and asked for a referral to a counselor. We set up an appointment with Ms. B--no joke, we found another infertility medical professional with a last name beginning with B. It was a good visit, and it served to ease our fear that we were not communicating or handling our struggles in a constructive way. She commended us for being on the same page, and recommended that we try to take some time off to focus on our relationship. Our homework was to spend our summer vacation relaxing together, setting aside time once a week to have infertility check up chats. Her advice sounded shockingly like Wisesister's, so I felt a little silly for needing to spend some money to hear a second opinion.

We did great with focusing on our relationship this summer. Wisehubby and I have had little pool parties where we watch trashy TV or the Olympics several times a week. We went to movies and made new recipes. We drove 2,400 miles through Texas, New Mexico, and Colorado, camping for four days where we could not get cell phone reception.

When we were off of the grid and seeking shelter from an afternoon rain storm in Mesa Verde National Park, we talked about what our life would be like without kids. We could travel, spend time volunteering, give ourselves over to our students and Godchildren, spoil our dogs rotten, and generally have a good time. I think that talking specifically about how we could not just survive but ENJOY having our dream of children permanently deferred allowed us to relax about the future. We still want to conceive more than anything, but we know that no matter what, we've got a happy family, just the two of us.

We're nearing the end of summer, which brings new challenges to our plate. I'm at a new campus doing the same job next year, and Wisehubby is starting a new position after two years of chasing that promotion. We're also looking at the nine month post-op mark at the beginning of September, so I scheduled an IVF planning session with the male Dr. B today. It brought back a whole flood of feelings, but it wasn't overwhelming or depressing in the way it was four months ago. After all, taking time off for some good behavior was just what the doctor (Wisesister) ordered!

Now what

Today we got some news that has left me without direction for the first time since we started down the crazy rabbit hole of trying to conceive. Wisehubby visited Dr. B(alls) and found out that despite his surgical repair three months ago, his count, density, and morphology all stayed the same--bad. His motility rose slightly, but it is still well below normal, as well.

Originally, Dr. B(alls) told us that we could think about IVF six months after the surgery. Today, he recommended nine. NINE! That means that the soonest he recommends trying again based on Wisehubby's recovery is September. That will be almost full year after our first IVF try, two and a half since we started actively trying to conceive, and three and a half years since I went off of birth control pills.

On top of everything else, I don't even know if we could do September. I am a school teacher, and my work schedule is very inflexible. It was incredibly hard and painful to work through my last cycle, both physically and emotionally. I do not know if I want to do it again. Part of psyching myself up for a second, more aggressive, round of treatment was the knowledge that I would be doing it from the comfort of my living room on vacation; I could wallow with my swollen ovaries all day long.

That means that, if we follow the advice of the man who knows best, we may not get a chance to conceive until summer 2013. The thought of that GUTS me.

All of this to say, now what? Where do you go from here?

To bed.

Taxing

Throughout the last year, I knew that we were throwing a lot of money at our fertility issues. Because I was so desperate to make our dreams come true, I didn't stop to see exactly how much it was costing us until it was time to itemize our medical bills for our taxes.

As it turns out, IVF is a very taxing process, in more way than one. Since we did IVF last fall, we spent more than 14.5% of our income on medical bills, after insurance paid out: prescriptions, doctor visits, dentist visits, and lab work. That is over double the amount you need to claim an itemized deduction on your federal taxes. We did just that, plus we itemized our charitable giving and educational expenses (graduate school). We ended up getting a return big enough to pay back the loan we had received from my in-laws last fall to help soften the blow of paying for IVF in cash. I can't wait until it is processed.

The point of this is to say, please, please, if you are reading this, living in the United States, and seeking fertility treatment, be sure to keep bills for all prescriptions and lab work. As for doctor and dentist visits, I found that the easiest course of action was to call each office and ask for them to mail a year end statement to us. That way, we didn't have to sort out the dozens of visits to the male Dr. B, on top of several visits for Wisehubby and I to Dr. P and our dentist, Dr. H, each.

IVF is taxing, but you may get a little bit of relief at tax time if you remember to itemize!

Factor V

I've been joking about having a mutant baby for so long that I had begun to forget the horrible truth behind it all. I dismissed Wisehubby's morphology issues as mutant sperm because I was using humor to hide from the pain. Now, I have only to look at myself to find a *real* mutant.

That's right, I have a Factor V mutation. I didn't know a lot about this today when the male Dr. B delivered the news unceremoniously over the phone, so I once again was left reeling by his news. After reading a bit about it, I have a ton of questions, many of which I will get answered by my primary care physician, Dr. P--thank goodness, she's not a B!

Depending on the severity of it all, I might even have to find myself a hematologist, which is a ripe kind of fun because a dear friend of mine is applying for fellowships in hematology/oncology--his wife calls him Dr. B, but that's his first name.

From what I can tell from Dr. Google, I'll have to take injections of blood thinners throughout any future cycles, as well as throughout any pregnancies. This means that you have to be very closely monitored at all stages of the pregnancy, and many women have induced labor or scheduled c-sections to avoid placenta problems.

I'm just starting to soak all of this in, so this was a pretty dirty post. If you know anything about this stuff, please HELP! I'm a mutant, but I feel so powerless.

An email and a response

A colleague sent an email to our small group of teachers who specialize in the same subject recently that ruined my day:

"Just wanted to let everyone in on my week…

[We] found out that we are pregnant with #3 this week. :)

We had a blood test done on Wednesday because we have NO clue how far along I am, and turns out I am anywhere from 8 to 14 weeks. 

So…we have a sonogram on Monday to find out for sure.  I will keep you all posted.

TGIF.

Best regards,

[Fertile Be-otch]"

Then this today:

"Well, turns out I am 15 weeks along as of today, [our daughter]’s 1st birthday.
The baby has little man parts and we couldn’t/can’t pick our jaws up off the ground.  There is a whole kid in my stomach that I didn’t even know about for the past 15 weeks.  I’m amazed and shocked and really excited. ☺
Just thought you guys would want to know the update!

Best regards,

[Fertile Be-otch]"

I couldn't send the response I wanted, so I settled for nothing. If I was a brave, bridge-burning bitch, here's what I would have said:

NO! I do NOT want to know the update. I do NOT want to hear about how you are so fertile that you could conceive clearly without trying less than a year after giving birth to your second child. In the time that you have been knocked up not once, but twice, my husband and I have suffered through one miscarriage, one failed cycle of IVF, and one testicular surgery. I don't think it is cute or funny or kind for you to share. I want to punch you in the uterus, if you must know. Yup, that's about it.

Best regards,

Wiselady

"Elegy"

"Elegy"
from Want by Rick Barot

In this rain we are moved to anecdotes.
That people float candles out to the river.
That in a field there is the crickets' grief.
It could be colder just now but it isn't.
Though there are the posters' missing faces.
Though a car is upside down, wheel turning.
The day will only want to keep arriving.
We will startle for the clothes by the bed.
For the vein glowing green on the thigh.
The coffee will come black in its cup.
The bread will be made of something clean.
This will not seem enough and it isn't:
The white nouns of the moon, the paper.
The handkerchief pulled from an empty fist.