Like everyone else, we thought the next part would be simple. And surprisingly, for the first child, it was. I conceived while on birth control pills, a simple and uneventful pregnancy that brought us so much joy. We hadn't been trying, hadn't even been thinking about a baby, but yet, there he was. 9 months later, Evan was born via c-section, his little self meeting the world butt first. I was 27 when he was born. Six years later, I cannot imagine life without him, nor could I have imagined the journey for our second child to be so fraught with difficulties. Our official diagnosis is Unexplained Secondary Infertility.
It all began about 4 years ago, when our son turned two and we decided to stop all birth control and just see what happened. I wasn't all that disappointed when we didn't get pregnant right away, with my son in full throes of toddler tantrums and in the middle of a move to a new house. But once we were settled into the new house, my biological clock kicked in, and we were in full "trying" mode. For a while, nothing happened. After 8 months, I had my annual gynecology exam, and at the time asked the doctor for some help/advice/insight. This older doctor asked my age (29), laughed it off, and said "you're still young. Be patient. It can take up to a year to conceive." But it had been a year. Well over a year without being on the pill. I was upset with his indifference to my concerns, but how ironic that a week later, I had a positive pregnancy test! I was in shock, and we were so excited! It was just before Valentine's Day, so we bought our son a shirt that said "I'm the Big Brother", took an adorable picture, and doctored the photo up to look like a Valentine's Card. We then sent it to our family without even a thought as to how early it was in the pregnancy. I felt great and we were on cloud nine!
A week and a half after we sent out our Valentine's, I felt a giant cramp tear through my lower midsection, and immediately knew it was bad. I went to the bathroom, looking for blood, but it wasn't there. I tried to breathe, tried to reason, but I knew in my heart it was bad news. That night, I began to miscarry, and my doctor's office had me go to the ER. By that point, I had bled so much, I knew that there was no way they were going to find any hint of a pregnancy on ultrasound, but still they tried. There was nothing. I spent several weeks beating myself up about shoveling the snow, drinking caffeine, and thinking of every little thing I might have done wrong. My family was supportive, and we had only told a couple of friends who were so great during that time, but I have never felt so alone. The grief of what might have been was heart-wrenching. Meanwhile, everyone and their sister were getting pregnant or having babies. We had to endure "so, when are you having another??" about a million times.
After we were given the all-clear from our doctor, we began trying again, assured that it was a fluke and that the odds of it happening again were slim. I began my research flurry, learned how to chart my cycles, invested in Ovulation Predictor Kits, read every
book
I 
could
get
my
hands
on
, and changed my diet. I even found a wonderful support group of women who were going through very similar situations on a site called Two Week Wait. I even submitted to having myself poked with needles 1-2 times a week via acupuncture to try and heal my body. I tried Yoga and breathing exercises. I was determined.
 |
| Acupuncture has proven to increase odds of conception in some studies! |
Four months later, we conceived again. This time we told no one, save for the girls I had become good friends with in my support group. A week and a half later, another miscarriage. More devastation. I was then referred to my gynecologist's "Fertility Coordinator" within my Obgyn's practice. I was run through the gamut of basic infertility testing- hormones, white cells, antigens, and more. All normal. I suffered through a sonohystogram to make sure my tubes weren't blocked or I didn't have other abnormalities- all normal. And low and behold, when we went to our first official consult when all the results were in, I brought with yet another positive pregnancy test. Ecstatic, the Fertility Coordinator drew my blood to test for HCG, only to deliver the news two days later that the level of the HCG hormone was not very good. I already knew that, however, because I had been testing and testing and testing
- the lines on the test growing fainter instead of darker. Chalk up miscarriage #3.
Because we had conceived 4 times on our own, the Fertility Coordinator didn't feel the need to have my husband, Russ, tested and we began our experiment with fertility drugs. I found the entire process daunting, which was not helped by the fact that the "Fertility Coordinator" was not very coordinated at all. Nor was she ever available. When we first met, she told me I could email her "anytime! My phone (shakes phone at me to prove point) is always on and I can always access email!". But emails would go unanswered for days, or sometimes more. The ultrasound tech went off on a rant on the Fertility Coordinator to me, the patient, during one appointment, while I was on her table. I think that was the final straw. That, and the hormones made me a complete lunatic. I mean, completely Coo-coo for CocoPuffs crazy. I had a sobbing fit over my son spilling water in the basement. As I bawled on the floor, I just told him over and over again that it wasn't his fault, and that mommy just didn't feel good. That was it. I was done. I wasn't doing this anymore. I told her we were done with treatment, and we went back to trying on our own. Over a year later, we had not gotten pregnant, not even a little. 
Early in 2010, I was talking to a fellow mom at my son's TaeKwonDo class, who happens to have twins that are my son's age. We got to talking, I asked about the age difference from her oldest son and the twins, and she offered up the information that her twins were conceived through IVF. And so the conversation started about our journey, and she gave me the number of her reproductive endocrinologist- a doctor at the Fertility Center of Illinois. It took several months for me to finally get up the nerve to schedule a consult, especially with the terrible experience at my own obgyn's office, but I did. The day of the consult with Fertility Center of Illinois, I was shaking with anxiety, sick to my stomach with the nervous adrenaline rushing through my veins. Within 2 minutes of meeting our Doctor- I like to call him Dr. Fertility- I felt my entire mind melt into his hands with trust and relief. He was now in control. And it was a very good and reassuring experience, not to mention, it was night and day from working with our obgyn's office. I breathed a sigh of relief, and fertility treatment part two began.
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| Infertility testing means giving lots and lots of blood. Lots. |
One of the huge differences between the Fertility Center of Illinois and my obgyn's office was the staff. Holy geez, the staff is worth their weight in gold. You're never bothering them, never asking the wrong question, never calling too often. They are kind and patient, and since infertility is all they battle, they are ALL on your side. It's an amazing feeling, and I wish we had started here first. We went through $4000 in testing, thankfully all covered by insurance and a state mandate to cover infertility diagnosis, all of which was normal. We found out that I have one copy of the MTFHR gene, which is a disorder that makes it difficult for your body to absorb folic acid, but it only causes problems when you have two copies of the gene. To be safe, I take extra folic acid, but the doc assures me it has nothing to do with three failed pregnancies. Once the testing was complete, we were onto Intrauterine Insemination (IUI).
There is nothing that brings you closer as a couple then asking your husband to put his swimmers in a plastic cup and drop them off at a doctor's office for you. The one thing we've learned as a couple is the need to laugh. If you don't have a sense of humor, don't bother with infertility treatments. With infertility treatment, you will soon have no qualms about having strange people see you naked on a regular basis, talk about reproduction as if it were a baked potato with dinner, and having yourself poked and prodded and drugged with hormones several times a month. There is nothing romantic about any of it, and nothing like literally putting the fate of your family in someone else's hands. We have had three IUI's now, none with success.
We are now on our 4th and final IUI cycle. Dr. Fertility will not allow anymore, and for good reason- it's a waste of money.
and international adoption
, I asked Russ if he would be willing to go to an international adoption seminar nearby. Surprisingly, he agreed. We sat in a freezing cold room, sifting through brochures on adoption from several countries, both of us agreeing that China
would be our preference due to the travel time and the fact that my husband travels to China every year for business, so he feels some ties to the country, and also some familiarity with it. We listened to the requirements, the travel, the options, all of it a lot to take in. When all was said and done, we decided that IF we could ever adopt, a China Special Needs
child would be first on our list. 
. The boys, not biological brothers, but brothers in every other sense of the word, stole the show (and the hearts of everyone in the room). They were adorable, real live breathing adopted children- they could be like ours! And they were adopted at ages 1 and 3, which is the age range we would love to adopt in. My heart is set on adopting an older child, and international adoption can provide that. But then, someone asked the question- how much did you end up spending? Their answer? $80,000. Granted, they adopted two boys, which pretty much doubles the cost, but still. We don't have that kind of money. And we never will. So, back to the cons on adopting. 
