This week is National Infertility Awareness Week. This
Sunday also marks the one your anniversary of Baby E’s due date. I think it’s
fitting that the two will always be intertwined. Even though we are past the
days of injections, ultrasounds, lab work, and invasive procedures, we are
constantly reminded of what it took us to get here. We have friends who still struggle
with infertility everyday. Our phones give us reminders that 4 years ago we
were in cycle for Scarlett and Clark. Or that 8 years ago I was having a saline
sonogram done. Or that E’s due date anniversary is in 2 days. Even without the
visual reminders, our history of infertility is always in my mind just below
the surface.
We are fortunate to have positive memories of our days
battling infertility. Yes there was pain, yes there was loss, yes it was hard
on us and our marriage, but we made it out with 5 beautiful children. Not
everyone is that lucky. Not everyone has success. IVF is not a guarantee for a
child. Adoption is not a guarantee for a child. For many people medical
procedures and private adoption aren’t even an option. It cost us over $30,000
to build our family, and that was with insurance for 2 cycles. Those costs are
on the low end, by the way. Some couples have to pay $30,000 or more for a
single cycle. I will never regret spending that money because it brought us the
children we have today, but it’s ridiculous that it costs so much to pursue
medical care for treating infertility. Domestic adoption can be just as
expensive and there’s no guarantee you’ll end up with a baby.
Aside from the financial burden of infertility, there are
many physical and emotional hardships. While I didn’t love IVF, because who
wants to give themselves injections 3 times per day, I also didn’t hate it. I
was fortunate to respond well to the medication and not end up with any
complications. We had text book retrievals and transfers. Again, not everyone
is that lucky. Poor response to medications, over response to medications,
Ovarian Hyperstimulation Syndrome, canceled cycles, procedure complications.
It’s scary when you really think about what all it entails. Going through my
surgery history after dealing with infertility is almost laughable. Before
infertility, 1 surgery. After infertility, 7 surgeries. Yes 3 of those are
c-sections, but let’s be honest, if it weren’t for IVF we wouldn’t have 2 sets
of twins and more than likely wouldn’t have needed c-sections.
The emotional toll is in my opinion the hardest part of
infertility. There is such a stigma surrounding infertility. This stigma causes
feelings of shame in many infertile couples. Even as someone who has been very
open about our battle with infertility, I often found myself hesitant to tell
strangers that we have 2 sets of twins because then the questions start. Most
of the time people are well meaning, but often times they’re just nosey and
rude. Even well meaning loved ones often times don’t know what to say and end
up making hurtful comments. As much as you might think your story about “your
friend’s Aunt Becky who finally got pregnant once she relaxed while on vacation
in Italy,” is going to help reassure someone, it’s not. The best thing you can
say to someone battling infertility is, “I’m sorry you’re going through this.
I’m here if you need me.” I promise they’re already going through enough
emotional turmoil. The last thing you want to do as their friend is add to that
by making a comment that may upset them. I cried when my sister told me she was
pregnant. I cried when my best friend told me she was pregnant. It’s not that I
wasn’t happy for them, because I was ecstatic for both of them, but I also had
to process my heartache, longing, and even jealously that it still hadn’t
happened for us and we didn’t know if it ever would. Those feelings I
experienced are a part of me now and don’t disappear just because we’ve had our
successes.
It took us 13 years to get pregnant on our own. If we
wouldn’t have been able to afford treatment, that would’ve been 156 months of
disappointment after disappointment. Quite possibly the best decision I’ve made
for my mental sanity when it comes to infertility was deciding to have my
fallopian tubes removed. Not just tied, but removed so there’s no physical way
for us to get pregnant on our own. I think I would still be wondering every
month if “maybe we might be pregnant,” if we hadn’t totally taken that option
off the table. Even though we know we are done having kids, that end of month
hoping has been such a part of who I am for so long that I don’t think I
would’ve been able to get past it without knowing it’s a physical
impossibility.
This has very much turned into a long and rambling post,
but this is where my mind has taken me as I think back on our journey and on
the journey of those who are still in the thick of it. One day the stigma will
be gone and adoption or infertility benefits will be available to everyone. We
are not there yet, and until we are, and even after we are, it’s important to
share our stories of struggle and loss as we build our families. We are 1 in 8.
