Yes, we are 11 days into 2014, and I am posting a year in review. Looks like my 2013 habits are carrying over...
On an awesome note... Golden Globes on Sunday! I will be coming at you with the hits and misses of the red carpet. One silver lining of not being pregnant, I can sip champagne in bed while I watch and blog.
I can easily say that 2013 was the hardest year of my life. And I will add to that, that it was an amazingly full year filled with travel, laughs, great food, all the things that make me happy, but all this was overshadowed by the one thing that was missing. It started out on such a high, only to come crashing down. I found out on January 1st that I was pregnant, and I instantly had the entire year planned. But a month and a half later, I found out I miscarried, and so began my all-encompassing, difficult journey to having a baby. Since that first miscarriage, I went on to have 2 early miscarriages or "chemical pregnancies". However, I like to call it "my devil uterus laughing at me for her own sick pleasure". Basically with a chemical pregnancy, you get a positive pregnancy test - or in my case 45, because I took them every time I peed, just to be sure - but the HCG levels fail to rise properly. About a week later (and after many blood tests) you get a painful reminder that you are indeed not pregnant. It was after the 3rd miscarriage in December (yes, I had my "We're Pregnant!" Christmas presents all picked out) that the specialist I have been seeing called to talk to me. We all know the doctor calling you directly is a bad sign, but I thought he'd be calling to recommend another drug or add something to my growing list of medications. However, he told me I had roughly a 75% chance of miscarrying again, and since the extensive testing I had done did nothing but show that I am the healthiest most fertile infertile woman ever, doing IVF with genetic screening of the embryos is my best chance of having a successful pregnancy.
Yes, I have been seeing a specialist, taking fertility drugs, getting weekly ultrasounds, and have had more needles in me than Teen Mom 2's Janelle, but for some reason I still didn't think I was infertile. I just needed a little help, and then we'd get there. IVF is for old ladies with old eggs and Jon & Kate +8, not me. I never thought this would be my reality. That this would be how we have our baby (hopefully). After a day of tears to Mr. Fonty, my mom and mother-in-law, I bucked up. Mr. Fonty is total science nerd, so it's only fitting that our child be made in a petri dish, sent to Chicago to be tested, and the blue ribbon winner implanted in my womb. Lab Darwinism all for the price of a new mid-sized sedan.
It is impossible to describe how infertility feels to someone who hasn't lived through it. Every month is a roller coaster of hope that comes to a crashing drop of disappointment when the latest treatment failed again. I've realized I am an eternal optimist, either that or a total fool, because every month I say I won't get my hopes up, I won't calculate the potential due date, I won't read into every cramp, but I do, I can't help it. And this makes the disappointment so much greater, because it always seems like this was the time that would stick.
Maybe one day I will look back, and be thankful for this experience, but it's too raw right now. Each week is filled with a mixture of anger, sadness, resentment, acceptance, and of course hope. I can say that if I had to go through this with anyone, I am glad it's Mr. Fonty. I am married to someone who's sole goal is to make me happy. He doesn't try to come up with comforting dialogue or tell me "it'll happen", he just seems to know that letting me cry and complain is all I need. He plans fun nights out, and understands when sometimes I'd rather enjoy a bottle of wine on the couch in bed. And when I tell him we need a fun trip, we hop on a plane to Croatia, and have an amazing week forgetting our pain. I'm so lucky to have him, and hope someday we have a little boy with his quiet confidence, wit, and speed on the soccer field.
I promise this won't turn into a infertility blog, but I will share my experience from time to time. When I was scouring the internet for information, it seemed like all the women out there were melodramatic weirdos who talk in infertility code - visit any infertility message board, and you will see. It's nice to hear from someone you can relate to.
Yes, I have been seeing a specialist, taking fertility drugs, getting weekly ultrasounds, and have had more needles in me than Teen Mom 2's Janelle, but for some reason I still didn't think I was infertile. I just needed a little help, and then we'd get there. IVF is for old ladies with old eggs and Jon & Kate +8, not me. I never thought this would be my reality. That this would be how we have our baby (hopefully). After a day of tears to Mr. Fonty, my mom and mother-in-law, I bucked up. Mr. Fonty is total science nerd, so it's only fitting that our child be made in a petri dish, sent to Chicago to be tested, and the blue ribbon winner implanted in my womb. Lab Darwinism all for the price of a new mid-sized sedan.
It is impossible to describe how infertility feels to someone who hasn't lived through it. Every month is a roller coaster of hope that comes to a crashing drop of disappointment when the latest treatment failed again. I've realized I am an eternal optimist, either that or a total fool, because every month I say I won't get my hopes up, I won't calculate the potential due date, I won't read into every cramp, but I do, I can't help it. And this makes the disappointment so much greater, because it always seems like this was the time that would stick.
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| Split, Croatia October 2013 |
Here's to a better 2014...
