So…it’s been a while since I posted, not that I’m the only one (ahem). But Mother’s Day just passed, and I thought it was time for another depressing update on my barren womb.
Back in October I had just started fertility treatment and had been trying unsuccessfully to get pregnant for about 9 months. Now I’m closing in on 18 months of suckage, and since infertility is still the defining struggle of my life right now, it’s really the only thing that I feel I can write from my heart at this moment. Sorry, maybe posting again after so long will get the juices flowing, and I’ll soon find more to say on other topics.
To recap the last 8 months in my infertility journey, we’ve done four cycles of Clomid, one IUI, and quite a few tests, all of which have yielded zero babies and zero insights into why we aren’t getting pregnant. We have decent sperm, plenty of eggs, no ovulation problems, no ovarian cysts, no endometriosis, no blocked fallopian tubes, and a normal uterus. We’re under thirty and healthy in very other way. No doctor I’ve seen has had any clue why this isn’t happening.
So, all that has led us to the last resort of reproductive medicine, IVF. I’ve had a feeling for a while that it would come to this, but it’s still pretty weird to think that we are one of those couples who just can’t manage to get pregnant “naturally.” I’ve always been paranoid about getting cancer, but infertility was never on my radar. Now we’re a statistic.
IVF is expensive, which is pretty much my only real qualm about the process. I consider myself fairly strong, so I’m sure I’ll be able to handle the injections, hormones, poking, and prodding that are required. After all, it’s only for a month. But the idea that we might pay thousands of dollars and come out on the other side with nothing to show for it is pretty scary. It’s not even about the money, which I would gladly pay if I knew it would guarantee me a baby. It’s the irritation of knowing there are no guarantees and my suffering might just end up padding the fertility clinic’s pockets.
I’ll be traveling home this summer to try our first round of IVF in the US, where we can be among family and friends, but if that doesn’t work, we’ll have to consider going through the treatment again, but here in Saudi, or perhaps even abroad. One woman I met here had IVF done in Taiwan and strongly recommended it. I also found a clinic in the Czech Republic that can do it for a fraction of the price of the clinic I’m using in the US. So there’s a lot of uncertainty about how to proceed if this just doesn’t work. It won’t be easy to do while working full time, which raises uncomfortable questions about whether I should quit my job. With my naturally pessimistic mindset and the dismal results of everything else we’ve tried, it’s hard not to assume that failure is inevitable.
Starting a cycle of IVF when I get home requires a lot of prep, so I’ve exchanged dozens of emails with the clinic I’ll be using and have taken numerous trips to the hospital here for the required testing. In a couple of weeks, I’ll actually go on birth control pills again, which is required for a month before you start the stimulation meds for IVF.
In the midst of my research and preparation, I’ve had one close friend announce that she’s pregnant with her third child, and I have my suspicions that another friend might be expecting her first. My cousin’s pregnant, too, and of course my Facebook feed is full of people my age having their first, second, third, or even fourth kids. I know that these aren’t the first people, nor will they be the last, to get that joyful news before I get mine. I think that’s the roughest part about the experience of infertility, at least right now. Not the jealousy itself, but the guilt I feel about the jealousy that inevitably washes over me when I find out someone is expecting. I hate that I can’t be 100% happy for friends I love. Even if I make it to 90% genuine happiness for them, that other 10% spoils it all. In my day to day life I don’t feel that much unhappiness. I don’t dwell on my infertility, though it’s never far from my mind. But the hard days come when something or someone triggers that conflicting swell of emotions that now accompany the words, “I’m pregnant.” The cocktail’s slightly different every time. Surprise. Joy. Envy. Guilt. A smattering of Despair. It all leaves a bad taste in my mouth.
This journey isn’t over, and even when it eventually is, it won’t leave me unchanged. I covet all your prayers and good vibes, and I’ll keep you posted.
THANKS FOR SHARING. I’m so proud of you for fighting for what you want. That xray is insane, once your baby is asleep in its cradle you should frame it and put it up as artwork. Also I didn’t know that it was possible for doctors not to know why it wasn’t happening. Hopefully its a good sign that the magical moment is ostensibly probable – maybe you’ll get twins!! Also have any doctors asked you if you’re sure you know what sex is? I bet it has happened once or twice where a couple was doing it wrong. 😉