Hang on for the Ride

Today I rode the hormonal roller coaster-- figuratively speaking, that is. I recently started reading Eat, Pray, Love. In the beginning of the book, Elizabeth Gilbert recounts her fears and lack of desire to have a baby, which contributes to the demise of her first marriage. Her sister compares having a baby to getting a tattoo on your face—something you better be pretty darned committed to! I woke up giggling about this analogy, since I found it incredibly humorous. Not that long ago, I, too, was unsure about whether or not I wanted to birth a baby.


Not in a Prissy-from-Gone-with-the-Wind-birthing-no-babies way, but actually being the one to gain weight, get hemorrhoids, have my size 9 feet (and maybe nose) grow, get cut “down there”, squeeze a human out of my vajayjay and so on. Thankfully, I’m totally over that now (wink)!

As I stepped into the shower this morning, I was feeling extremely positive about this whole fertility situation. I’ve been reading other peoples’ blogs about infertility lately, and so many of them are sad and depressed. Many are jealous of their friends and family members who are starting or growing their families. Then, they feel guilty about being jealous.

Luckily, I don’t share those feelings. Although I can understand them, I have more of a “que sera sera” attitude. If we can’t get this done the natural, vajayjay ripping way, we’ll get it done another way and love our babies—biological or otherwise.

I carried this attitude to my breast exam appointment (which was slightly less invasive than my last bra fitting at Nordstrom’s). After getting felt up, I chatted with my primary care physician about the possibility of scheduling an HSG (where they shoot dye into the fallopian tubes to see if there’s anything blocking the yellow brick road).

Since we’re an Air Force family, everything has to get proper clearance for take-off. Coincidentally, our doctor is going through IVF right now, so she is very empathetic to our situation and wrote the referral right there in the office. I left the base hospital in a fabulous mood.

When I got home, my hormones must’ve kicked into overdrive, because I started getting a migraine-- which reminded me that I had forgotten to get my migraine medication refilled at the base hospital. Grrr! So, I slathered my face and head with Stop Pain and laid down to take a nap.

It hurt less when I awoke, so I surfed the net and checked my email. I happened upon an article from Self magazine about the silence of infertility (http://www.self.com/health/2010/08/breaking-the-silence-on-infertility) and got all teary eyed, feeling sorry for the people in the article who were too ashamed to talk about their infertility with their friends and family. People who spent over 100K for IVF that didn’t even work! I felt lucky to be me—supported by my husband, family and friends!

Then Eric came home and we somehow got on the topic of adoption while we were making dinner. I started crying thinking about how long it could take and how expensive it is. I may have even shed a few tears into the baked eggplant.

But then I remembered my positive attitude from this morning and tried to re-embrace it. And my headache had gone away. So, I just got glad in the same britches I got sad in (stole that one from my momma). The roller coaster came to an abrupt halt and I hopped off that ride! Now, I’m back on solid ground.

Baby Dust

Two days ago I posted my blog on facebook, or “spacebook,” as my Uncle Kenneth (RIP) called it. The response it generated was quite overwhelming. Not only is everyone rooting for us to get knocked up with their comments (*like*), but my inbox was flooded with encouraging emails and testimonials from empathetic girlfriends who either are or have been in the same position (figuratively speaking).

Most of these commiserates are thirtysomethings like me, but few of them have openly shared their fertility challenges because of pain and isolation they have experienced. We spent the majority of our twenties curled up with our contraceptives of choice, fearing pregnancy like the black plague. The pervading assumption was that once we stopped the preventative maintenance our bellies would swell with offspring. We held friends and acquaintances who cried in our arms because of accidents, which I now prefer to call “surprises.” We took baskets of baby paraphernalia to showers for our young married friends and shuddered at the thought of being responsible for anything more than ourselves (and possibly our pets).

Then we grew up, got married, planned families, only to discover that it wasn’t as easy as we once thought. For me, writing this blog is almost cathartic. I take pleasure in exploring the nontraditional, finding humor in the midst of disappointment and shocking and awing my friends and family. It’s pleasing to think that others might find some morsel of comfort within these lines.

Thanks to those of you who have shared your tips and stories with me, from IVF to adoptions to surrogacy (and all the positions in between). And to those of you who aren’t quite there yet, baby dust!

Name Dropping

It’s not just us common folk that have trouble multiplying… famous people have fertility challenges, too.

Some have success with IVF, such as: Courtney Cox and David Arquette, Christie Brinkley, Marcia Cross, Jennifer Lopez (rumored), Celine Dion, Brooke Shields, Julia Roberts and Danny Moder, The Dixie Chicks (Martie Maguire and Emily Robison), Jane Seymour, David Beckham and Victoria Spice, Nicole Kidman and Keith Urban, and Gillian Anderson.

Other stars, like Angela Bassett, Kelsey Grammer, Diedre Hall, and Katy Sagal chose to use a surrogate.

Adoption was the option for Jamie Lee Curtis, Hugh Jackman, Sharon Stone, Sheryl Crow, Mary Louise Parker, Diane Keaton, and Kirstie Alley.

Helena Bonham Carter and Tim Burton went through several failed attempts at IVF, but conceived naturally later.

Studies show that celebrity fertility issues are, in fact, more common than the names they pick out for their children. Studies conducted by me, that is…