Monthly Archives: February 2012

A strange week

I’m 15 weeks pregnant today and there is nothing new or different to report. Or in other words, I have no idea what’s going on but I hope everything is good! I wasn’t planning on writing, but I suddenly felt like it. When I decided to start this blog 6 month ago after living with infertility for years, I had no idea that it would lead me into discovering an amazing community of fellow bloggers on the same or similar journeys. It has shown me that I’m not alone; that there are people out there who understand my feelings and experiences with infertility and treatment in ways that nobody else can. I have the privilege of being able to read and follow the stories of others who go through this.

In the process, I have come to care about those of you whose’s blogs I follow in a way that I had never imagined. I have never meet any of you in so-called ‘real’ life, but as it turns out the virtual world is as real as any other space where the potential for connecting with others can be created. Maybe even more so in our particular case, because we share the most intimate thoughts, feelings and bodily experiences. It amazes me how powerful sharing of common experience is – maybe particularly the common experience of struggling to start a family.

This week I have realized the full extent of what that really means. I have cried tears of sorrow for Mo who lost her little boy at 22 weeks. And I have waited anxiously to hear news from Bachelor’s button who had her twins delivered by C-section at 28 weeks because her baby girl suffered from intrauterine growth restriction. Delivering now was the only chance of survival for her little girl, but would at the same time also put her little boy in danger. Now they are both fighting for their life in NICU. I’m sending all my hopes and prayers!

I can’t even begin to imagine what Mo and her husband are going through grieving the loss of their baby boy. Or what Bachelor’s button and her husband have been and are still going through. Or what Ozifrog, who is on bed-rest because of serious pregnancy complications, is going through. Or any of you who are or have been experiencing loss. I have been so fortunate not to experience loss or the imminent danger of it, but I nevertheless feel with you so much in your pain and worry.

When I was crying for Mo’s loss earlier this week, my husband asked me if it was making me worried about our baby – that something could also go wrong with my pregnancy. I thought about it for a bit, but realized that that was not it! I wasn’t feeling sad for what could potentially happen to me. I was feeling sad for Mo and her loss. I was feeling sad because life can sometimes be so cruel that it’s beyond belief. I was feeling sad because it is so horrible that one of us, who has struggled so much, has been robbed yet again of the dream of having a child and been put through another devastating loss.

I think all of us, who experience infertility, feel the collective pain of what we all go through. Whether it is loss and/or not being able to get pregnant in the first place. I just never realized it until I became part of this online community.

In stark contrast, this week also brought me an experience of not belonging and not being able to relate. Yesterday my husband and I went to one of those pregnancy & baby fairs that we had ended up with free tickets for when buying prenatal vitamins. We decided to go and have a look, since we have not looked at any baby-stuff yet. At all whatsoever.

I think I’m still processing the experience… It was so overwhelming. All we ended up buying was two bottles of sparkling alcohol-free wine. We did look at prams and strollers, but not in a very hands-on kind of way. I just couldn’t really relate to it all. I know I’m pregnant and I’m overjoyed and incredibly thankful, but it’s as if my mind has still not registered it. I can’t think like a pregnant woman. I can’t see myself with a pram or a stroller. I didn’t feel like one of them – the pregnant women. I felt like someone who shouldn’t be there. I couldn’t identify.

On top of that I was absolutely shocked at how commercialized pregnancy and babies are. It can’t imagine ever needing most of the things being sold for babies. But it seems like for a lot of women being pregnant means a whole new world of shopping opportunities. We even saw a couple walking around with a tiny little new born baby… amongst such crowds and frenzy that it was almost too much for me to bear. At 9pm! The baby looked so startled and confused, I still can’t forget it. Why take a new born to a shopping fair? And casually carry it around on your arm amongst crowds of people, noise and frenzy?

In all of it I kept thinking; this is not what it’s all about. It’s not about shopping baby stuff. Being pregnant and having a baby is about something so incredible and amazing that I can’t even express it or fully understand it. It’s about a love greater than any other. I know you don’t have to have experienced infertility to know and feel that. Far from it. But I do think that it makes it so painfully clear and intense in a way that cuts right to the bone. I can’t and I don’t want to think about shopping for stuff. I don’t need a fancy stroller. All the fuss and all the wrapping paper doesn’t interest me. I just want to meet and hold this special soul in my arms in August and experience him/her grow and live!

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Looking back on a long journey

There is something special about February. It’s the month of love. It’s the month we first met on a dance floor in London 9 years ago in 2003. It’s the month we decided we wanted to start a family 3 years later in 2006. It was so special and romantic for us to make that decision then. Little did we know what kind of journey lay ahead and that wanting to have children is something completely different from actually being able to make it happen. Now, 6 years later, it’s February again and I have entered the realm of the 2nd trimester of my first pregnancy.

February now feels more magical than ever before. But it also makes me think back on all those years of living with unexplained infertility and going through fertility treatment. These 6 years have changed me and us forever. I can’t imagine myself and our life any other way. We have learned that life is unpredictable and beyond our control. We have learned that nothing can or should be taken for granted. We have learned that it is possible to be happy even when life is turning out so differently from what we had imagined. We have learned that resisting what is only creates more suffering. At the same time, we have also learned that there are subtle, but very important, differences between denial and acceptance. We have learned that there is a time to let go and rest, but that there is also a time to start fighting again. We have learned that living outside the social norm is difficult, especially when you have had no choice in the matter, but also liberating. It teaches you to find your own way and to make conscious choices about who you are and how you want to live within the limits of whatever life is handing you. It has make us stronger and closer as a couple.

To put it differently, we have learned that being involuntarily ‘stuck’ in a liminal life state like infertility for years is painful on many levels, but also transformational. Looking back on my posts prior to IVF and pregnancy, I did know this when we were still in the trenches (see for instance this post), but only tentatively. It is much easier to reflect on it now when I’m no longer in the same state. As I do so, I realize to my surprise that I don’t actually wish that these years had been any different or that we had been spared the long journey to get to this point. I also realize that the only reason I can feel and say this is because the liminal state of infertility has effectively ended for us. For now at least. Over the course of the first three month of pregnancy I have transitioned into a new state – that of pregnancy. We have not become parents yet, but for the first time ever we are actually on our way there. We can see the light at the end of tunnel. This last stage of the journey is significantly different from any of the stages that have come before because the creation of a new life is no longer theoretical and impossible. It is happening. A new life is coming into being slowly and steadily with every day that passes.

We resisted IVF for a long time, but in the end it was IVF that made the miracle possible. Yesterday we went for the NT scan* and got to see our little miracle dancing again. He/she was making it very difficult to get the measurements done because of all the moving around. As the technician was waiting patiently for the right position we had lots of time to enjoy the show and revel in the representation of our miracle on the screen. I’m still in awe. I still can’t quite grasp that it’s really happening, because it has seemed like a complete impossibility for so long. But I’m getting there slowly. More so now when the morning sickness has lessened because I’m functioning more normally again. We have not looked at baby stuff or anything like that yet, but a few days ago I started looking at websites of hospitals in London to try to get an idea of where to give birth since we are moving there. As I was watching a little video that took you on a tour of a birth center, tears started streaming down my face. It was hitting me. It’s happening, it’s real. I’m pregnant. We are going to have a baby.

*Update 16/2-2012: We received a letter two days after the scan with the assessment of the risk for Down’s Syndrome etc. based on the combination of blood results, NT measurement (1.1) and my age (37). The risk was assessed to be 1 in 11000, which is reassuringly low for my age.