When my daughter Maya asked if I would like to guest blog, I wondered what I might say. I’ve been following her blog since she started writing it and I have also read all the comments, so I have become educated about an island I knew nothing about four years ago. I have been humbled and inspired by what I’ve read.
Knowing Maya as well as I do—she is one of my best friends as well as my daughter—I knew that she was a determined, opinionated woman with a strong life force. I like to think that I was supportive of everything she wanted to do and that I often encouraged her to break through whatever barriers that she encountered. But dealing with infertility was a barrier that she had to face alone—at least, initially, before any of her family support system could get their bearings. Well, not exactly alone. Her husband Noah was always there and this was something they had to deal with together.
Over the years, when I saw how unhappy she was, trying everything she could to make a baby, my heart felt just as broken as hers. We have a strong bond and when she hurts, I hurt. And though I told her I would do whatever I could to help, there was really little I could do outside of lending emotional and occasional financial support. It’s a helpless feeling for a parent. Yes, I’ll admit that at times when my wife and I were driving somewhere and we saw someone pushing a stroller with twins and another child tagging along, I thought of stopping the car to make an offer I knew they’d refuse. But in all seriousness, I thought it so unfair that so many young women seemed to be pushing strollers all over L.A. when my daughter was locked out from being one of them and yet wanted so badly to be.
Our journey as a family into the world of Assisted Reproductive Technology really began when Maya and Noah started looking into IVF, and culminated when her younger sister donated her eggs. My wife and I didn’t initially embrace the idea. From our perspective, such a donation could lead to complications. But in the end, we came around to being supportive of their choice, and we were proud of Maya’s sister for being so immediately willing to do whatever she could to help. When that attempt failed, we were all disconsolate. But once we recovered, it was on to the next step. Maya’s absolute belief that there was a child waiting for her to mother made her resolute. And we took strength from her lead.
We agreed with the acupuncture and hypnosis treatments and wept with her every time an IUI or IVF failed. But Maya continued to document her story in her blog and on film and we continued to believe that fate would be kind to her. So when she heard about the frozen embryo that was waiting for her in a clinic in Seattle, we clapped our hands and prayed that this was it, this was the one.
When Maya’s embryo transfer took, and Momo started to become a reality for us, we were hopeful, but not excited, because we had been through so much over the four years Maya tried to conceive. Excitement would come when she delivered. And when we found out her sister was also pregnant, nine weeks behind Maya, our hope doubled, but we still couldn't get really excited. We would like to have been excited—excitement is a nice state to be in. It leads to anticipation, to planning, to shopping for strollers and cribs and onesies. But after years of dealing with the roller coaster of infertility, excitement felt risky.
We’re now finally starting to get excited. But we have gone through so much we never expected to go through: until you start dealing with infertility clinics, with a cartload of medications and needles, with failure after failure while trying to keep hope alive, you just can’t imagine what it takes to turn sadness and despair around. My wife and I have been there every step of the way. We’ve offered our support, sent out positive thoughts, comforted our daughter the best we could, and when an attempt didn’t work out, we cried together. But we all grew stronger through this ordeal. We’ve become closer. We’ve had the advantage of reading Maya’s blog, so we know her true feelings; and we’ve been inspired by Maya and Noah’s resolve, and their willingness to film their journey so that others who go through this can see they’re not alone.
That they made the decision to document their lives on an island that exiled them from so many of their friends and coworkers, no matter what the outcome, was brave and daring. For four years they never knew what the ending would be, but they never lost faith. They believed there was a child out there and they believed they would find that child and love that child and they made us all into believers.
Maya is now entering her 36th week after the embryo transfer she was destined to have, and we all eagerly await the arrival of Momo, our first grandchild. And two months after Maya’s big event, we will also be applauding when her sister delivers our second grandchild, a baby boy. We know that we will love and cherish them both equally.
And probably, as most grandparents do, spoil them rotten.
Who says happy endings only happen in fairy tales?
My dad is a writer and one of the best perks for our Indiegogo Fundraising Campaign are his books and a super exclusive interview package for a high roller! You can check him out at his website, lawrencegrobel.com. Today begins week two of our fundraiser! We are at about 27% of our goal so please continue to help us spread the word! http://igg.me/at/onemoreshot
Thanks for sending my daddy-o some blog love through these comments! I fell very lucky to have my family who have been on the IF train with me through the whole ride, but I'll also say there have been some people in my life who haven't been on board, and that can be hard. I know gals whose parents don't know about their struggles or whose family don't approve of their choices and I know that adds an additional stress and my heart goes out to anyone in that situation. I hope you find the love and support you need elsewhere.
Posted by: Don't Count Your Eggs | March 13, 2015 at 09:16 AM
Simply beautiful. In some ways, the bad luck of infertility shines a light of how very lucky (some of us) are to have such loving support systems. My dad sat with me after every miscarriage and just let me cry. My mom took me to my many egg retrievals when my husband was working. This post reminds me that as isolated as I felt, I was never alone. Best of luck to you, Maya, in these last few weeks. You are SO close now!
Posted by: Kerry | March 12, 2015 at 05:10 AM
What an awesome family! And Momo, no doubt, will continue the legacy of awesome. Congrats to the whole family -- each and every member!
Posted by: Laura | March 10, 2015 at 05:46 PM
Beautiful Post!
Posted by: Julie | March 10, 2015 at 10:34 AM
Beautiful Post!
Posted by: Julie | March 10, 2015 at 10:31 AM
Maya's dad - thank you for this beautiful and honest post. It's wonderful that you're so supportive of your truly inspiring daughter. I really identified with the sentiment that after years of dealing with the roller coaster of infertility, excitement feels risky. I'm really happy for you that you can finally be excited, and that soon you'll be meeting Momo and her cousin. Congratulation to the entire family!
Posted by: Molly @ The Modern Belly | March 09, 2015 at 06:29 PM
What a wonderful idea to have your father post! I love how supportive he is and how he's come along side you guys.
Posted by: Lisa @ Amateurnester | March 09, 2015 at 12:01 PM