A Beating Heart

The first person I told about my pregnancy (besides The Husband) was my little brother.  At the time, he was serving an LDS mission on the island of Tahiti.  We had been writing e-mails back and forth each week for the past year and a half.  I would mourn the absence of a baby, and he would buoy me up with encouraging words and positive scriptures like only a good little missionary brother can do.  I knew that I had put a major burden on him, sharing my infertility woes, so I wanted him to be the first to know that he no longer needed to worry, that our prayers had been answered.

I sent him an e-mail:

“Monday, November 28^th, 2011

Hey Tay,

How are you doing?  I am wonderful!  So, first things first: PLEASE NOTE THIS IS TOP SECRET!!! …. I’m pregnant!!!!!!!!!!!

I haven’t told anyone in the family yet, just you.  I will probably tell everyone on Christmas, but I thought you would probably like to know.  SO… make sure you don’t spill the beans, ok?”

The e-mail continues on to ask about his mission and telling him how much I love him, etc.

His response back?  Probably one of my favorite e-mails of all time:

“Monday, November 28^th, 2011

Oh My Goodness!!!!!!!  I want to cry and poop and pee and scream and yell with happiness!!!!!  I am so so happy for you Torrey!!!!  I really almost started to cry when I heard the news!!  I have been praying for you for so so long it seems like and I love it when prayers are answered!!  Take care of little Taylor for me!  Haha just kidding.  You can name it whatever you want.  I love you Torrey!!  I am going to be an UNCLE!!  Uncle Mully… I love the sound of that!”

Great, huh?  I have a great family.  I truly felt like my sweet little brother was just as thrilled with my news as I was.  I mean, c’mon, the e-mail speaks for itself.

I had my first appointment the next week.  Because I had conceived using Clomid and I have PCOS, mine was considered a “high risk” pregnancy.  By my calculations, I was only 5 weeks along, which is very VERY early to get into the doctor.  But he wanted me to come in right away.

I was very nervous to go to my appointment.  Every negative scenario raced through my mind: Ectopic Pregnancy, Molar Pregnancy, Miscarriage.  I shared my secret news with my best friend, who also happens to have PCOS.  “You may not be able to see a lot,” she warned me, “Don’t freak out if you can’t see a heart beat yet, its still so early.”  That’s when I started to pray.  I prayed and prayed and prayed that I would be able to see a little heart beat.

When I arrived at the doctor’s office, I was greeted with pure love and joy.  Most everyone there knew me and my back ground.  So, when I arrived for my first pre-natal appointment, they were almost as excited as I was.  “She’s one of our PCOS girls”, the nurse explained to another new nurse.

The doctor prepped me for the ultrasound and then the fun began.

“First let’s look at your ovaries.  See that cyst there?  That means that you ovulated!”

I was dying… yeah yeah… I ovulated, we get that. Where’s the baby?!?! 

Then the doctor moved on to my uterus.  I held my breath and said another little prayer.

“This,” my doctor said, “Is your baby.”  I examined the screen.  All I saw was a little round lump, about the size of a grape (really it was the size of a sesame seed when not magnified).  It wasn’t very cute… but then I saw it… a most beautiful sight… a heart beat.  A beautiful little heart beating away, like a blinking light, on the screen.  Hooray!  A heartbeat!  My prayers had been answered.  A little tear trickled down my cheek.

“A heart beat.” my doctor said, “That’s a very VERY good sign.”

He then checked to make sure there weren’t more little embryo’s hanging out in my uterus.  But all I could think about was that gorgeous beating heart.

My doctor explained that once a heartbeat has been seen, the risk of miscarriage drops to less than 5%.  It was such a relief to hear that.  My little grape (sesame seed) was going to be ok. 

The next thing I needed to do was announce the happy news to my family.. and so I began making plans.

Things Are Looking Up

As I mentioned, after going through “The Steps” time after time, only to be disappointed month after month, I finally got to point where I was ready to give up.  I started to have thoughts like “Maybe I’m just not cut out to be a mom” and “I guess I deserve this because of (insert ridiculous reason here)” and “The Lord must think we’re better off without children”.  Really, they were silly things to be telling myself because NONE of them were or are remotely true.  But, when you are in a situation where you want something so badly… more than anything in this world, in fact… and there is nothing you can do to get what you want… even the silliest of ideas seem rational.

So, one day, I decided I would try one last round of “The Steps” before finally giving up.  It was day 35 and still no period.  I called my doctor’s office to have them call in my next round of meds.  “Did you take a pregnancy test?” the nurse asked over the phone. 

I hadn’t.  Why?  Because pregnancy tests don’t grow on trees and they’re not exactly cheap, AND all of the others had come back negative.  I didn’t feel any different and I didn’t want to waste my time and money on taking a freakin’ pregnancy test.  (I was not in a good place at this point in time... as you can tell :).

“I cannot call in the prescription until you can confirm a negative pregnancy test”, the nurse insisted.  I hung up the phone and sat there, thinking for a bit.  I wanted to just call back and lie.  Tell her I took a test.  That it came back negative.  Unfortunately, my parents had burned into my mind the value of “Honesty is the best policy” since before the beginning of time.

I stopped at the store on my way home from work and picked up the cheapest pregnancy test I could find.  They tell you to take pregnancy tests in the morning, when the hormone HCG (the pregnancy hormone) will be strongest in your body.  I really didn’t care at this point, so, later that evening I took the test.

I waited a few minutes for the test to generate results.  I glanced over at it, sitting atop the toilet.  I did a double take.  I was shocked to find a positive pregnancy test sitting where I had left the test I was sure would be negative.  Say what?

I carefully inspected the test, waived it in the air a few times, and tapped it against the counter, trying to see if I had just bought a faulty test (I’m not sure how waiving a pregnancy test in the air of hitting it against the counter would tell me whether I had bought a faulty test or not…).  But the positive result remained.

I found The Husband in the kitchen, rummaging in the fridge.  “Honey,” I said, “this test says we’re pregnant.”  He stood up from his crouched food searching position and just stared at me, like I had just been speaking in a foreign language.

“See?” I said, “This says we’re pregnant.”  The Husband still looked perplexed, then he said, “Are you sure?  Maybe we should get a more expensive test to make sure.”

So, we did.  We went to the store and got the most expensive pregnancy test we could find (because expensive things produce more accurate results?!?).  I took that test the next morning.  I wanted to do it right this time.  I peed on the test then waited.  Guess what?  Same result as the cheapy test.  Positive.  I was pregnant.

There is a song from a musical I was once in that came to mind when I saw that second positive pregnancy test.

Allow me to share the lyrics:

Things are looking up!

I’ve been looking the landscape over

And it’s covered with four-leaf clover,

Oh things are looking up

Since love looked up at me.

Bitter was my cup,

But no more will I be the mourner,

For I’ve certainly turned the corner.

Oh things are looking up

Since loved looked up at me.

See the sunbeams!

Ev’ry one beams

Just because of you.

Love’s in session

And my depression

Is unmistakably through.

Things are looking up!

It's a great little world we live in!

Oh I’m happy as a pup

Since love looked up –

Oh I’m happy as a pup

Since loved looked up at me!

This song echoed over and over again in my head.  It seemed that my luck had finally changed.  Thing WERE looking up.

What NOT to Say

I know there are a MILLION lists like this out there… but I wanted to make one of my own.

I do want to preface this list by saying that:

a. If you happened to say one of these things to me, I promise I am not holding a grudge and most likely I’ve forgotten that you specifically said this to me.

b. I know that no one ever says these things with ill intentions.  Most of the time you are sincerely trying to make your beloved friend/sister/co-worker feel better about her situation or you don’t know what to say, thus word vomit, OR you don’t even know the person you said this to is struggling with infertility.

Things NOT to Say to Those Struggling With Infertility

-       “Just watch my kids for a day, they’re great birth control”

o   There is no way on this earth that watching someone else’s kids is going to make me not want one of my own, no matter how bad they are.  If anything it will make me think, “If these were MY kids, I’d teach them manners…. Why can’t I have my own kids to teach manners to?!”

-       “I’m sure it will all work out in due time”

o   You don’t REALLY know whether it will “all work out”.  Plus, unless you are my doctor, you are probably the least qualified person to tell me this information.

-       “Have you tried or thought about (fill in the blank)?” EX. Invitro?   Adoption?  Standing on your head after sex?  Drinking such and such concoction?  Checking his sperm count?  Etc, etc, etc….

o   Whatever we may or may not have tried or thought about is first and foremost none of your business.  Also, I’m pretty sure if we haven’t tried or considered whatever it is you’re suggesting, there is a reason why.

-       “Are you guys ever going to have kids?”

o   Thanks for the reminder of what we don’t have.

-       “You just need to de-stress/forget about it and THEN it will happen.”

o   It is impossible NOT to stress or to forget about getting pregnant when you have strict instructions to follow each month. 

-       “Being a mom is such a hard job, you’re so lucky you don’t have kids”

o   This comment makes me so sad.  While I have no doubt that being a mom is hard work, I look at having children as a major blessing, so, in my opinion, there is nothing “lucky” about not being able to have children.

-       “So…. Are you pregnant yet?”

o   Please, I beg of you, please do not ask this question… EVER.  All this question does is remind us that we are NOT pregnant.  Having to answer “no” to this question over and over again gets very tiring.

-       “You’re still young, you don’t need to be so worried about this”

o   As I get older, my infertility problems are NOT going to go away, so I'm pretty sure I can worry about this whenever I dang well please.

This is how my feelings look inside when people say these things... and I say to myself "Excuse me, what?"

Reading back over my list, I think it is best if you just don’t say these things to anyone… ever (whether they’re struggling with infertility or not).

If you have a friend of loved one who is struggling with infertility, the best thing you can say to them is “I’m so sorry that this is happening to you” and “I love you, I’m here for you”.  That’s what we want and need to hear.  We want to know that we matter, that we are cared about and that we are loved. 

Really, isn’t that what everyone needs?

From Barren to Bearing in 35 Days or Less

Ok, so I found out that I have broken ovaries (and might I add, learning that you have infertility issues is rather difficult news to hear… its more like being handed a grenade with the pin already pulled).  There is a part of you that still has hope though, so my next question was, “where do we go from here?”.

I asked my doctor what the best treatment for PCOS was.

“Birth control, definitely birth control”, was his response.

Uh…. Hold your horses there boss.  In case you haven’t noticed, Doc, the word “birth control” in and of itself means “baby prevention”, which was the exact opposite of what I had been trying to do.  Thankfully, we came up with a plan.. one that did not involve birth control.

The very first step in the plan was for me to lose some weight (story of my life).  After going off birth control I had gained quite a bit of weight.  I hadn’t changed anything in my diet, but I packed on the pounds (a lovely symptom of PCOS).   

With PCOS your body has difficulty processing sugars, so my doctor put me on low carb, low sugar diet.  It is impossible to not lose weight when you cannot eat sweets, bread and potatoes.  Try it if you don’t believe.  I was also put on the medication Metformin, which is normally used to treat diabetics; it helped my body process sugars better.  It has also been rumored to aid in fertility, but it has not been medically proven.   Its one of those old wives tales sort of things.

Then each month, I did the following, which I like to call:

The Steps… “From barren to bearing in 35 days or less” (if you’re lucky)

Step 1 – Take Progesterone, to force the body to have (eh hem) a period

Step 2 – Take Clomid to make ovaries work

Step 3 – Take Estrogen to aide the Clomid in doing its job

Step 4 – Use Ovulation Tests to figure out when ovulation will occur

Step 5 - Have sex … frequently

Step 6 - Wait

Each month I would wait, then wait, and then wait some more.  A normal woman’s cycle is 28 -35 days, so if I hadn’t started my period by day 35, I was to take a pregnancy test. 

The first round of “The Steps” was very exciting.  When I hadn’t started by day 28, I was thrilled!!!  I thought to myself “Could this really have worked with the first try?!”  I remember taking that first pregnancy test, waiting anxiously by myself in the bathroom, too nervous to look at the results.  When I finally mustered up the courage and saw a big fat “Not Pregnant”, I was crushed.  I was embarrassed too.  How could I have been so naive to think this would work in only one shot?  I buried the pregnancy test deep in the trash can, I never wanted to see it again.

When the test comes back negative, you get to embark on the journey of “The Steps” all over again.   It’s awesome (not).

The more times I had to complete “The Steps” the more discouraged and depressed I got.  I became very bitter and angry.  The things that made me more angry than anything on the earth at that time were: the TV show “Teen Mom” and seeing people in similar situations, people complaining about their terrible children, women complaining about their pregnancies, abusive parents, and abortion.

It is so easy to take for granted the things that we have.  Sometimes we don’t realize how good we’ve got it.  So, while things weren’t working out the way I had “planned”, I did feel like I had gained a greater appreciation for the things I DID have in my life.

One thing I have been very grateful for throughout this entire process has been the convenience of modern medicine.  Had I lived a few hundred years ago… heck even just 60 years ago, I would have been considered a barren woman with no hope of ever having children of her own.  The reproductive hormone estrogen wasn’t discovered until the 1920s, and testosterone in the 1930s.  Clomid was FINALLY introduced in the 1960s… we’ve come a long way.

It is impossible to describe or explain the emotions a woman who is experiencing infertility goes through.  At the end of each day I would find myself reeling after getting off of an emotional rollercoaster of sorts.  There were breathtaking highs, the very lowest or lows, and everything in-between.

Finally, I got to the point where I was ready to be done with the whole thing.

Stockton

I have to take a break from back logging for a moment to discuss the happenings of yesterday.

My cat Stockton and I have this routine, you see.  Every morning, I wake up to find my cute little cat lying on the floor of my room at the foot of my bed.  As soon as my feet hit the ground, he gets up.  He races me to the kitchen (he always wins, because I am WAY too groggy to even try to race… also, races are dumb).  As Stockton celebrates his victory, I get him his breakfast… a little bowl full of cat food.  While Stockton chows down, I get ready for the day.  Once I’m ready and about to leave for work, I let him out the back door so he can frolic outside while the Husband and I are at work.  That’s our routine.  It really works well for us.

Well, yesterday morning was just like any other morning.  Stockton raced me to the kitchen, I gave him his food, I let him eat in peace while I got ready.  While I’m in the bathroom, putting my face on (I love that term, by the way, “putting my face on”… makes me feel like an old lady from the south), I hear a terrible noise.  It sounded like someone was madly plunging a very clogged toilet… only the noise was coming from my kitchen.  Just so you know, I don’t have a toilet in my kitchen.

I stuck my head out of the bathroom, mascara wand in hand and asked the Husband “What is that horrible noise?”  The Husband, who was still in bed, just rolled over.

I ran out to the kitchen to see Stockton, hunched over, dry heaving like I’ve never seen a cat dry heave before.  I screamed at the cat, “No Stockton, don’t do it!!!”  He took a brief moment to look up at me, then barfed everywhere.

Something you should know about me: I don’t do barf.  I myself have only vomited a handful of times in my life.  It’s foreign to me.  I don’t like things that I don’t understand.  Thankfully, I have the Husband.  He can handle the barf.  I’m sure he doesn't find cleaning up our cat’s breakfast enjoyable… but he does it because he’s brave and he loves me.

After kicking Stockton out of the house, I ran to the Husband and promptly let him know he had some vomit to clean up.  Goodness I married a good man!

Fast forward now to the end of the day.  I get home from work and see that the Husband is also home.  I’m talking to my mom on the phone as I open our front door.  The door slowly swings open and I find Stockton at the top of the stairs (the Husband must have let him in).  We stare at each other for a moment.  He has this look in his eyes, and I just know what’s going to happen next.  “Stockton!”  I shout, “Don't you dare do it!!!!” and then the toilet plunger noise starts up again.  I start screaming “Stockton!!!” over and over again as I race up the stairs (still on the phone with my mother).  I get to the top of the stairs and try to push him with my foot.  “Please Stockton, don’t do it!  At least move onto the tile… not on the carpet, please, please, not on the carpet!”  But Stockton won’t budge… and then he barfs.

I tiptoe around the vomit and force the poor cat outside (mom is still on the phone, do doubt convinced her daughter is a maniac).  I find the Husband in the bathroom.  I knock on the bathroom door, “Honey, you have more barf to clean up”.  All the Husband can say is “great”. 

Poor Stockton was quarantined outside for the rest of the evening and all night long.  I just couldn’t stand the thought of more cat barf in my house.  The toilet plunger noise would NOT leave my mind.  Am I a bad pet owner?  I think maybe I am… and the sad part is that I'm ok with it.