Don't Count Your Eggs

And sometimes you're just done

I really appreciate some of the comments I got on the last post, because I think it's a good reminder of the truth about infertility. While I often write about the strength and resilience of people on IF Island who are determined to have a family, I also know that there is so much strength and resilience in those who are determined to have a good life, even if it means letting go of fertility treatments. I think one of the strongest and sometimes toughest decisions anyone on the Island can make is to call it. I've written about the decision to live child free before and I can only reiterate that knowing when it's time to stop is one of the most courageous things. 

Someone commented about acceptance and essentially finding a different path. This is true for alternative family building and it's true for child free living. Sometimes life hands you a basket of lemons and you have to figure out how to make lemonade. Sometimes you plough through the options you have and when you think there are no more choices you find one that works for you. Sometimes you have to work really hard to look at what is, and accept it, and move forward. Being happy and content is sometimes a decision. Seeing the glass half full or whatever people say-- there's truth to that. Revising how you thought things were going to go is a process, but it's important to remember that each one of us is in charge of our own story. 

I often think about the fertility journey as one that involves weighing choices, knowing what you're comfortable with, being realistic about your finances, and ultimately deciding how you want to live your life. Noah and I spent four years working to make a family. Fertility stuff had become our lifestyle and it was terrible. If Momo didn't come to us when she did, I'm not sure what we would have done but I know we wouldn't, couldn't have kept going in the same way. I kind of imagined we would have packed a backpack and left the country for a while. I think we would have needed a life time out and the space to reinvent ourselves and our expectations and decide what would come next. Living child free was never something we imagined for ourselves, so I imagine we would have taken a step away and perhaps begun the adoption process. But honestly I don't know what exactly we would have done. 

I love what one person wrote-- that they "have chosen to just enjoy our lives." Sometimes the heartbreak of everything that people go through feels too heavy and too dark to see that there is even that choice. But finding ways to heal the heart and accept what is can help to move all of us towards finding the choices we have, and there's power in that. 

When the other shoe drops...over and over again

I have two friends-- one a close friend, one a friend I've never actually met but know through the blog--who got the rug swept out from under them this week. Two very different situations but both made my eyes swell and my heart sink, and made me just feel pissed off and sad for them. 

My one friend, who I know and love who has been my IVF soul sister, got a BFP after her first round of IVF. OK. Not her first first round, her first round for kid #2. She has been through many rounds and the last wonky embryo of her last crazy cycle resulted in her son. Because of her age and all the unknowns, she jumped right back into IVF for #2, and lo and behold she got a positive pee test "on the first try." She called me and said she couldn't actually believe it and that she felt like one of those people who get pregnant naturally on the first try. She almost seemed to feel a little guilty. I had to remind her that she did IVF and didn't get knocked up after a glass of wine and wild night. Eh hem. She went to the doctor to take her blood test the next day and beta #1 came in a little low. She had forgotten about the beta game. I reminded her that my first beta was 23 and we both crossed our fingers. Beta #2 went up but didn't double. After beta #3 the doc pulled the plug. Now she sits and awaits her first miscarriage. 

My other friend, who I've never actually met, has been keeping me updated on her tortuous journey to parenthood. She's still working on #1 and has been through some seriously terrible shit. I can't even get into her saga but she's done many procedures and IVFs, she had a very late pregnancy loss and then finally got P again and had the beta game hell but then things turned around and she seemed to be sailing off the Island, yet again, and then she went in for her 14 week appointment and there was no heartbeat. She is such a nice, determined, bright person, and one of the most resilient people I've ever crossed paths with. And now she too awaits her miscarriage. No, I'm wrong. She's getting a D & C. 

So here are these two incredible ladies who just want to make their family, and they keep getting teased and taunted. I don't know why this happens. It isn't fair and it isn't right, but it is the story of so many people. Multiple attempts, endless procedures, losses and confusion and sadness and frustration. Both of them, though, are getting right back up after being knocked down. But how do you find hope when you've been through this stuff? How do you endure the process over and over again knowing the same end result could happen? You just do. Partly because, perhaps, you don't know what else to do, but partly because in your heart you believe you'll find your family. You'll find your baby and somehow all of this...crap will be worth it. 

It's hard not to be waiting for the other shoe to drop when it has so many times before. I get that. I've felt that. But I guess the shoe may drop regardless of what we think or believe so we might as well just believe things will be different, that things will go right. And often times they do, because eventually somethings gotta give, right? I hope so. For my two friends and for everyone else out there struggling so hard.

Sending love. 

Constructing our reality about the IF journey and donor conception

I've been thinking a lot about how each of us constructs our own reality and then lives as if our reality is the truth. We all do it, that's how we make sense of the world. We have our views of right and wrong and our beliefs and values and while yes, there are some basic rules and realities that apply across the human race, a lot of what we think and believe to be true is our own creation. 

I've been reminding myself of this concept lately when I come across people who have such fundamentally different ideas about donor conception. I understand struggling with certain things and having to process certain ideas, but sometimes I just don't get where other people might be coming from and then I have to remind myself that they are believing their reality just as I am. I think it's really hard when the reality of our life situation conflicts with rigid ideas about family and conception. It's a hard thing to reconcile internally and externally. 

I feel lucky that my parents are very open minded and most of the people in my life were super supportive of us moving towards donor conception. I never felt bad (I mean, I felt bad, like, a lot bad in general but never bad about using a donor) or ashamed and I never felt that using a donor wasn't "right." The thought just didn't cross my mind and that's probably because that wasn't my reality. 

Momo is now at an age where she is starting to understand books more. She likes that book Little Gorilla, and gets super excited at the part where Little Gorilla starts to "grow and grow and GROW" and becomes big, and everyone still loves him. She also is starting to really understand that she is a person. I'm not saying that right, I mean she can recognize herself and her name. She can find herself in a picture and knows she looks smashing in her pajamas and tutu with a box on her head. She just does, it's in her attitude. Noticing these changes in her has made me think it is really time for me to make her a book about her very special origin story, and it's making me think about how I am going to construct her reality until she starts creating her own. This is my job as her mama but it's also forcing me to really think about how to share her story in an age appropriate way, throughout her life really.

I remember my friend Lisa, I think it was Lisa, who has one adopted kid and one child through egg donation and surrogacy, who said something like, "you never want your kid to remember the moment you told them about being donor conceived." That stood out to me and the more I looked into best practices of disclosure, the more it seemed to make sense that a the story might be best played out if it's just always been a part of their life. But every family has individual feelings about this and about what will work best for them. I've been so public about Momo, she will always know her story, but sometimes I have doubts about that too. I also don't think disclosure is a one time thing but an evolving process that might shift and change over time and with her age and development. And while part of me wants to just see how this all plays out, I recognize I have a a pivotal role in how it actually does. 

And I guess that brings me back full circle with my reality. It's simple if I just break down the facts that make sense to me. My husband and I tried to make a baby the way we knew how and found out I had medical issues that prevented me from doing so. I sought the help of doctors and began a search to find the baby that was meant to be mine. And eventually I did. And she's amazing and I wouldn't have any of it any other way. 

We each have our own reality and the power to adjust it as needed. This can be very empowering if we let it be. It's about opening our hearts and minds, as always.