The Trouble With Never

Something amazing happens when women get together and support each other, and today is no different. To celebrate National Infertility Awareness Week, and to launch Justine Brooks Froelker's new book The Mother of Second Chances on April 17th, I am participating in her blog tour. Five weeks of 25 women sharing their stories surrounding infertility and loss. Together we are educating and inspiring others to come out of the shadows of infertility, and know they are supported and loved.

Yesterday on her blog, Jessica shared her story, today I'm sharing mine, and tomorrow you can check out Meaghan's post at My Beautiful Crazy. Please participate by sharing these posts! Share your stories with the hashtags: #NAIW #infertility and #EverUpward.

                 

Without further ado, here's my post for today:

I’ve spent a good deal of my life speaking and thinking in absolutes. Yes and no. Black and white. Never and forever. This thing or that thing. It’s just how I’m built.

Sometimes this quality is helpful. For example, as a teen when I was rapidly falling in love with every single male in my high school, my tendency toward absolute thinking was helpful. Does this guy in the Nike hat that I fell in love with in 3^rd period even know who I am? Nope. Well, then it’s not meant to be. On to the next. At other times, absolutes can be a problem. Husband is late coming home from work? Well, clearly he has been in a car accident and is lying dead on the side of the road. You can see the issues this type of thinking can create.

Okay, so what does this have to do with infertility? Trust me, I’m getting there.

When I graduated college and began my journey into true adulthood, there were things I was absolutely dead sure about. One of them was family planning. The resolute part of myself decided that I would A) be married by age 26 and B) have at least two of children, maybe even three if my body bounced back, by the age of 31. (No, I wasn’t vain at all.) In retrospect, the arrogance of this whole “plan” still infuriates me. The fact that I thought I had any control of any of the items on the checklist is sickening to me. But, you know what they say about hindsight.

Anyways, this whole egotistical I-am-in-control-of-my-life family plan thing was reliant upon one thing: marrying my high school boyfriend. I’ll let you guess if that worked out. Spoiler alert: It did not work out.

So there I was, 26.8 years old and hit with the realization that my high school boyfriend was not, in fact, marriage (or father) material. I had a dilemma. The clock on my absolute, dead set, never-going-back family plan was going to run out. I was back at the starting gate.

I began to re-evaluate all of the things I was so absolutely sure about. I clearly was not going to hit my marriage goal, and by association, my child plan was looking bleak as well. Thankfully, I met my husband and we were engaged and married within seven months (that’s another story, and it’s a good one so look for that one of these days). My husband had two children of his own, so I became a stepmother at the age of 27. AHA! My child plan was back on track! Yes, a little amended because they weren’t biologically mine, but no biggie, I could still have one of my own easily.

And then life said let me just stop you right there.

The reality of infertility hit at 30. And it hit hard. Not only was I infertile, but the doctors didn’t – and still don’t – know why I couldn’t get pregnant. We began treatments at age 30, so if all went well, I could still have a baby by 31 and stick to my plan.

Somewhere deep inside, the absolute part of my brain was beginning to deteriorate. It was still holding strong, but the walls were weakening.

One other thing I am sad to admit to you is the absolute certitude that I believed I would never, ever, ever, go through IVF. Not even when we began fertility treatments did this conviction change in my mind. IVF was a weird, science-y thing that rich people did when they turned 45 and still wanted kids they couldn’t have naturally. I would never need that. Some injections and pills would take care of everything. Okay and maybe if the pills didn’t work I’d consider that whole turkey baster IUI thing. But why even think about that? Things would never get that far.

Never.

And once again, life said hold my beer and watch this.

Three years, two failed IUI’s, a rapidly dwindling bank account, 33 candles on my birthday cake, and still no baby. No more certainty. I was free falling into an abyss that I couldn’t escape.

“Never” had taken on a whole new meaning. Rather than thinking about all things I would never do to have a baby, I was thinking of all the things I absolutely would do to make it happen. Life had, in the immortal words of Missy Elliott, put my thing down flipped it and reversed it. And in the end, the part of me who would never ever go through IVf...went through IVF.

This is the trouble with absolutes. The trouble with never. This life and this universe really aren’t interested in what you’ve decided you will never and can’t ever do. At the end of the day, never is always possible, and we short change ourselves when we decide it isn't. We limit our potential and our progress. No, I didn’t enjoy the process of Clomid and IUI’s and injections and tests and IVF. But…I also wouldn’t have met amazing doctors, nurses, accountants, pharmacists and some of my best friends if I hadn’t gone through it. I wouldn’t have my son if I kept firm to my never. I wouldn’t have met others just like me and just like you. 

As an infertile who has come out the other side, I am done with never. I am done with telling anyone, including myself, what can never happen. And yes, I know there are those of you out there who truly are not able to have children of your own, or even through adoption or fostering. I still encourage you to rid yourselves of never, because we simply do not know where life is going to take us next. It could be somewhere we didn't expect.

Lastly, despite my good-bye to never, let’s not kid ourselves, I’m still a black and white kinda gal, so the draw toward absolutes is still there for me. I choose to feed it in a different form. I am all about the always. I will always be there for those who need me, and I will always advocate for the infertility and infant loss community. I will always be there for my friends, even if they are still stuck in their never.

Always.

G Force: My Encounter with Celebrity Infertility Hero, Giuliana Rancic

Everyone seems to have a story about an A-list celebrity encounter. Your mom saw Oprah buying a hideous scarf at Hermes in Chicago. Your best friend totally stood next to that guy from Mr. Robot at Whole Foods in LA last summer. And your gynecologist went to high school with Paul Rudd's Mom.

But me? I have no celebrity story. No quirky tale I can whip out at an awkward Thanksgiving moment when the convo turns political. No cute story to tell strangers when our elevator gets stuck. Nothing. Nada.

Until now.

Amazingly enough, my A-list celebrity encounter happened last night, and in the process managed to make my whole infertility journey come full circle. I never even saw it coming. Let's back up.

A few weeks ago, I got a flyer in the mail that Giuliana Rancic was coming to Kansas City. You know Giuliana Rancic. She was the anchor for E! News forever, has her own wine and clothing line, and is married to the winner of the very first "The Apprentice", Bill Rancic. Oh, and she kicked breast cancer's ass and never has a bad hair day. She's basically a superhero.

The flyer said she was coming to town as the guest speaker for North Kansas City Hospital. They were promoting Club W, an organization that supports women through Wisdom and Wellness. (Go here to join Club W; it's amazing. And free. SCORE!)

Anyway, I saw the flyer and hyperventilated, then immediately texted my good friend and radio DJ extraordinaire, Jenny Matthews. I asked Jenny to be my date to this event because, let's be honest, Giuliana is our Holy Grail. If we were creating a celebrity squad, Giuliana would be President and CEO. Not just because she's pretty and has killer style (though those qualifications certainly don't hurt), but because of what she has done for the infertility community.

You see, Jenny and I are IVF warriors. Our three children (Jenny has 2, I have 1) are the result of countless hours of crying, testing, poking, prodding, wondering and waiting. Jenny's story is hers to tell, and you can read all about mine here on this blog, but the bottom line is, we have Giuliana in common. Giuliana went through the IF and surrogacy process for her son, Duke. She shared her story, and not just as a quick anecdote in a "10 Things You Didn't Know About Giuliana" glossy magazine story. Oh no. Giuliana and her husband Bill filmed her journey - from injections to conceptions - on their reality show, "Giuliana and Bill."

Big deal, you say. They had a reality show. Of course she told her story for ratings. 

Um, no.

Not even on my best day as an infertile did I ever wake up and think, "Damn, it'd be so great if there were a camera in my face right now." At no point did I stare at my swollen belly, rock hard with fluid and 26 eggs that would be retrieved in the most painful process ever and think, "This would be so fun for 854,000 peeps to watch. Sign me up!"

Infertility is pain. It is ugly. It is more tears than you knew your body could produce. It wreaks havoc on a marriage. And more than anything, infertility is the epitome of uncertainty. For Giuliana to tell her story without the guarantee of a happy ending is a) brave b) kind of insane and c) something to be celebrated. Besides, Giuliana was already a celebrity without the infertility angle. She could have easily just produced Duke at a press junket one day and said, "Oh, that baby? Yes, that's my son. Let's talk about my clothing line now." 

Instead, she made the decision to open her life, her marriage, and her journey (including breast cancer, eventually) to millions of women. Women like me who were watching her on television in the midst of our own failing fertility cycles. Women like me who watched her go to Colorado Center for Reproductive Medicine in Denver and  thought, "Maybe they can help me, too." 

Because of Giuliana's story, I was inspired to not give up. I was inspired to walk away from my current RE, pick up the phone and call CCRM. Because of her I traveled 622 miles from home to a place that I feel put just as much effort into me as they did Giuliana. 

Lastly, because of Giuliana Rancic, almost two years ago, I was inspired to do something I never planned to do. I took a deep breath, singed into Instagram and Facebook, and shared a link to this very blog. No more hiding. I detailed the good, bad, and ugly of trying to get pregnant. The curse words, the sleepless nights, and my own seemingly endless uncertainty.

And like Giuliana, I was overwhelmed with the response. Friends emailed that were going through their first IVF cycle. People I hadn't spoken to in years reached out to ask about a medication or a procedure. I heard sad stories of miscarriages and failed IUI's. I heard happy stories about twins and triplets. I listened to stories of cautious hope and dwindling optimism. Some of those stories are still ongoing to this day. 

And so I knew I had to jump on the chance to see the person that helped me get to this point.

So, back to my celebrity encounter. Because my dear friend Jenny is in radio, she was able to secure an interview with Giuliana prior to her speech. I was so happy for Jenny. She was going to meet our hero and I was going to live through her vicariously. Maybe she'd get me an autograph.

And then Jenny said I could come along.

And I died and the story ended.

No, not really, but close. 

Last night Jenny, myself, and our friend Shaylee (who also idolizes Giuliana) found ourselves in a small conference room at the Embassy Suites. And there, less than 15' away, was Giuliana, answering questions from several journalists in Kansas City. We were the last to go.

Jenny could have easily just sat me in a corner and been like, "Kim, you stay here and be quiet like a good girl, please." But she took my hand, stood me up and said, "You have earned the right to tell this woman what she means to you. You're coming with me."

And just like that, we sat down with our hero, Guliana Rancic. (Can I just tell you that Giuliana actually got up and rearranged the lighting so we'd all look better? The woman is a beast.) She smiled at us, a small black eye from a bounce house incident with her son peeking out from beneath her expertly applied makeup. And then she said, "Okay, let's do this!"

I think I wet my pants.

Jenny, being the pro she is, asked wonderfully poignant and professional questions. I, on the other hand, instantly morphed into Tommy Boy with my pretty little pet.

                                         

I fumbled words, made weird faces, and at one point practically leapt across the table to shove a picture of my son in Giuliana's face. Of course, she was completely gracious and as you'll see, handled my ridiculousness with the utmost poise. She was sweet, attentive, and charismatic. All the things she is on TV, she is in real life.

As Jenny and I say now, it was one of the top 5 moments of our lives.

Let me reiterate that this wasn't about her being a celebrity. Sure, that part was fun. At the end of the day, this was about her being a celebrity that put her voice and her platform to good. To talk openly about something that as recently as even 5 years ago was considered "taboo". In some places, it still is. But because of this amazing woman, I felt strong enough to tell my friends, family and clients what I was going through.

So, Giuliana, thank you. Thank you for handling my questions with a smile, for not running away after glimpsing my insanity, and for helping to make my son a reality. I owe you more than you'll ever know. 

A-list celebrity story? Level: Pro

Here's the taped interview, courtesy of Jenny and SheKCLifestyle:

      

Here's me and G (with her expert lighting arrangement):

                                        

And here's the picture I showed her of my son and my very handsome hubby:

With All Due Respect: A Response to a Misguided Infertility Article

If the infertility community had a dollar for every inaccurate, misleading, or just plain ridiculous article about infertility, we'd never have to pay for our daily Starbucks fix again. 

Then again, caffeine caused us to be infertile.

(Oops, there's another dollar.)

                     

Last week, @gotnosperm tweeted a link to an absurd article that appeared on The Huffington Post. It immediately lit a match within the infertile Twitter community, and I feel like a response to the article is needed. 

Our voice should be heard.

Here's the article. When I saw the title, "Infertility: The Important Missing Piece in Health Education Classes" I thought, "So true! This is a conversation we should be having with teens. It's not a fun convo, but we can prepare them for what might be coming and where they can go for help if it happens to them."

Then I started reading - and got all kinds of angry.  Right away I noticed that the subject of infertility as it pertains to the health education curriculum is only discussed as an afterthought. The article disguises itself as a conversation starter, when in fact it is simply a vehicle to get the real agenda across, which is hating on adoption and surrogacy. Infertility is just collateral damage. The gist of the article is this: infertility is totally preventable, infertility doctors and clinics are just trying to get your money, and surrogacy is just a bunch of exploitative assholes looking to screw you. 

Oh, and "adoption" is just a code word for sex trafficking.

This article should have inspired a dialogue surrounding if/when we should inform teens about the possibility that they will experience infertility in their life. Instead, the facts and statistics are so random and twisted that the original subject gets completely lost in the alphabet soup. What we're left with is a distasteful and flawed sermon that places the blame for fertility squarely on the sufferer's shoulders.  Here's a disturbing quote:

"Infertility affects both men and women, is devastating, heartbreaking, and often extremely expensive, and many of the risk factors are rooted in behavior that begins in adolescence."

Is this true? Well, it's truth adjacent. Infertility has certainly been linked to age, obesity,  alcohol, drugs, etc. But so has cancer. And headaches. And depression. 

Do we tell people with chronic headaches or cancer that it's their fault for eating too many candy bars in high school and doing too many Jell-O shots in college? No. We do our best to give them love and support and remind them that this random life curve is in no way their fault.

Because it isn't.

Infertility is no different. Of course there are factors that could increase the chances of fertility problems later in life, but it's hardly responsible to tell young teens that if they maintain a healthy lifestyle they can avoid infertility. That's writing a check that nature can't cash.

A large number of infertility issues are unexplained. Mine was, and after four years and the birth of my son, it still is. Besides, infertility can be linked to many sources. An obese woman who loses 60 pounds isn't suddenly guaranteed a pregnancy. She could have been obese with un-diagnosed PCOS. A woman in her 40's might easily get pregnant where a woman in her early 20's struggles. Every single case of this heartbreaking disease (yes, I said disease) is different, and it is never the person's fault that is suffering.

Ever.

This ridiculous article even sights that riding a bike and wearing constrictive underwear can cause male infertility. And therefore, "it is important for young people to know that their present behavior may cause them heartache later in life when they are ready to have a family."

                 

So you heard it here first, kids. Stay healthy and get plenty of exercise, but oh yeah, steer clear of riding a bike, mmmk? And actually, excessive exercise can cause infertility, so maybe just be lazy. But wait, obesity will cause infertility...you're just screwed, so best of luck with procreating.

The most disturbing part of this article for me is the focus of blaming infertility on women who choose to wait to begin a family. 

"First pregnancies over 30 are more difficult to achieve and maintain and also add to increased risk for the health of the baby.", and shortly after, "Since it is never too late to pursue higher education and career, it is worth considering delaying those pursuits instead of delaying childbirth. The infertility industry in America has grown into a multibillion-dollar industry profiting from these preventable behaviors."

What in the actual hell? So we should encourage women to go ahead get pregnant (ready or not, partner or not) because, hey, you can always get your degree some other day. Besides, the infertility industry is just getting rich off of your ridiculously selfish feminism, you Melanie-Griffith-Working-Girl wannabe. Stop trying to break through the glass ceiling and make make your husband some stroganoff, please.

                                         

No no no no. This is all SO wrong and such an ass-backwards approach to family planning. When and if a woman chooses to have a child should be her decision. I don't want anyone (especially an impressionable teenager) being told to give up their dreams of a career in favor of popping out a kid. Hell, why even finish high school? You should just get pregnant now! Your junior varsity quarterback boyfriend Tommy will surely be who you spend the rest of your life with. And if he isn't, oh well, at least you'll have your baby before your eggs scramble!

(My eyes are rolled so far back they can see my hardly-ever working ovaries.)

At the conclusion of the article, we finally uncover what the true agenda is: hating on adoption/surrogacy. In fact, surrogacy is described as, "a controversial practice that is Illegal in most of the industrialized world because it exploits low-income women in the US and overseas." 

What bothers me is how broad a brush is being used to paint surrogacy as this seedy, underground machine that's turning underprivileged teenagers into baby-making slave laborers. I'm sure surrogacy has its problems like almost all large organizations do. But frankly, for some people, surrogacy is truly the answer. For lesbian and gay couples, it's a way for at least one of them to have their DNA in their child. For other couples, it's the only option for them to have a child that is biologically their own. To solely focus on the negatives of a potential path to parenthood is simply irresponsible and dangerous. 

With regard to adoption, the article shares goes for the throat, claiming, "because the demand so outstrips the supply, the adoption industry is plagued by corruption, trafficking, and scams, all with little oversight or regulation."

Hey lady that wrote this article, your bias is showing. 

Like surrogacy, adoption isn't problem free. But it isn't all cloak and dagger awful, either. I can count on more than two hands the number of people I personally know who would be childless had it not been for the selfless and beautiful act of a mother choosing adoption for her baby. I understand that there are those who have had bad experiences, but does that mean we shut the whole system down? Hardly. I mean, I had a shoddy cavity fill in the 9th grade. Do I just let the other cavities that I get rot in my mouth until I look like a cast member for Duck Dynasty? Um, no.

To close out her glass-is-half-empty-and-also-probably-filled-with-cyanide diatribe, Mirah Riben ends with this uplifting thought:

It is vitally important for our youth to be made aware that their behavior may cause them grief and costly, risky treatments later in life. Health classes need to include this important information.

The truth is, the "this is all your fault" approach isn't going to help anyone. I'm all for educating young people on infertility, but let's do it from a standpoint of support and information rather than accusation. After all, when we know better we do better, right? Would it maybe be better to educate kids about healthy living across the board, rather than make empty promises about avoiding infertility if we just stop having an extra doughnut or drinking a soda? 

I think so.

So there.

XOXO, my infertile friends. Just remember, you've done nothing wrong. You are beautiful.

PS: Here's the author's web page. It's pretty clear what her agenda has been from the get go. Maybe Huff Post Education should choose someone else to write about infertility. 

Just Hear Me Out: 5 Things Infertility Clinics Can Do to Be SO Much Better

Going through fertility treatments is no fun for anyone. Not for you, not for your partner, not for your family. At it's very best it's stressful and at it's very worst it's damn near impossible to take. So, when infertiles go to a clinic or doctor that specializes in infertility, we expect...well, a lot. 

Hubs and I experienced two separate fertility clinics. One was here in our home city and one was several hundred miles away in Colorado. Both clinics had their weaknesses and their strengths, but I did notice a few of those weaknesses carried over through both clinics.

Now look, I get it. Infertility is a very common issue for couples (if the numbers I read are correct, 1 in 6 couples will be affected), so that means a lot of bodies in and out of the clinic doors. I understand the doctors and nurses are under extreme pressure to perform and get results, and that can be extremely stressful on them, too. So before I proceed, please know I am forever grateful for the work these people do. They are human, they are overworked (though certainly not underpaid) and they are probably never fully properly thanked for what they do.

But that doesn't mean there isn't some work to be done.

All that being said, here are a few pointers I think some infertility practices could use:

1. Just read the chart

You know what? Scratch that. Don't even read it. You can probably get away with just skimming it. Really. Right before you walk in to meet with a client, do a quick 30,000 foot view of her chart and catch yourself up quickly. I know you can't remember every single client that comes through your doors, but it takes literal nanoseconds to glance over the chart and see that the woman you're about to meet with has had a Fallopian Tube removed. 

And you were the doctor that removed it. 

By glancing at her folder and refreshing yourself, it will save you the mountains of awkwardness you would have experienced if you had said, "Now have you had an HSG yet?" The broken woman sitting on that cold, hard, uncomfortable table will love you forever if you come in even remotely up-to-date on her treatment thus far and ready to have a conversation about her current issues, not rehash ones that have already caused physical and emotional scarring. 

Before all of you clinics flip out on me and tell me how busy you are, I want you to remember that we all have jobs. We're all busy. Lawyers have many cases to keep track of. Interior Designers have many clients to advise. You don't get a pass on taking a little bit of time to re-familiarize yourself with a client just because you're a doctor. We all have to do a better job.

2. Smile (when appropriate)

The men and women you are seeing as a doctor or nurse are going through a hell of a lot. They are stressed and scared and sad and more sad. When you are speaking with a patient, a little smile goes a long way. I understand that some doctors are "just the facts, ma'am" kind of people, and maybe that's okay. But we're still all human beings, and a smile conveys care and concern. And that's sort of the business you're in. So try it out. You might be surprised how fast the walls come down and how much less you see eye rolls.

3. Phone calls matter

One of the reasons I left my first clinic was because I couldn't believe the lack of care that went into phone calls. Hubs and I went through two IUI's. Both of them failed. When I got my period each time, I had to call and let the office know that my cycle had started. Both times, this was basically how the convo went:

Me (barely holding it together): Hi, I'm calling to let you know that my cycle has started, so the IUI didn't work this time around.

Nurse: Okay, and so what will you do next? Another IUI or are you moving on to IVF or are you stopping treatment?

Me: Um, I don't really know. That's why I'm calling. I was hoping to talk to the doctor.

Nurse: Okay, I'll let her know and she'll get back to you. Thanks!

That, my friends, is not a good conversation. I'm calling to tell you that my fertility treatment DID NOT WORK and my running tally of failed months of trying to get pregnant has just gone up by one. I am sad and broken and let down and confused. It takes no effort for the person taking the message to immediately say, "I'm so sorry to hear that. I know that's a difficult thing to experience. Let's take a look at your chart and see what our next steps will be."

And if that's hard for you to do, then maybe you should consider another line of work.

4. Your office decor matters

This is probably close to my heart because I'm an interior designer and I think about these things. But really, this should be in the forefront of every doctor's mind when they're opening a practice.

You are dealing with women who may OR MAY NOT ever get pregnant. Is it wise to put a woman who's been through 5 miscarriages and 2 still births in a waiting room for up to 20 minutes where she has to stare at pictures of sonograms and successful pregnancies and babies plastered all over the walls? I'm going with no.

I certainly understand that clinics want to show their successes. After all, that's why they exist...to help us! The doctor wants you to see that there is hope and they can help couples achieve their dream of conception. But those successes are better touted on a website or a pamphlet. By the time a couple comes to your clinic, they've already done the research (hopefully). They know what you do and that you are successful. That's why they are there.

I'm no expert on doctor's offices, but I would imagine it's difficult to have rooms reserved only for women who will ultimately never have kids. You as a doctor aren't a fortune teller so you can't possibly know. So maybe it's better to err on the side of caution and just choose neutral decor that doesn't have the potential to trigger anxiety attacks. I'm certainly not opposed to a picture here and there of a baby, or even a "wall of success". But let's not put it front and center of the waiting room, mmk?


5. All infertiles are not created equal

Like it or not, you as a doctor at an infertility clinic are in the business of exceptions. What does that mean? It means that every couple who comes through your door is going to be different than the couple before. This is not a prescriptive realm you're in. For some doctors, they see patients who have strep throat or the flu or a broken arm. Those patients are likely going to have very similar treatments to cure what ails them.

Not infertility.

The original clinic we visited reviewed our files and the doctor told us on our very first appointment, "what we do here is three months of Clomid, followed by three tries at IUI, and if that fails, we move on to IVF." And that was that. What that doctor didn't take the time to do was first ask me if I'd had an HSG. After months of Clomid treatment, we discovered I had a blocked right tube that was cleared through an HSG. Ovulation through Clomid doesn't do a lot of good if I've got a tube with a traffic jam in it.

In reality, there is no "this is just what we do" when it comes to infertility. Every case is different and every case deserves to be looked at closely. Infertiles pay a lot of money to be treated, and they deserve for their situation to be evaluated. You wouldn't expect a realtor to approach selling your condo in the same way they'd sell an acreage. Period.

*****

I realize it sounds like I'm knocking fertility clinics, and really, I'm not. I know these people literally perform miracles. If it weren't for my clinic, I wouldn't be pregnant right now. But ultimately, we all have to strive to be better and we can't do that without feedback...

...which is why next time I'll blog about what infertiles can do to make their nurses and doctors' lives easier.

Dun dun DUN.

XOXO, lovelies!

Inconceivable: My Unasked For Opinion on Kim Kardashian's Infertility Story

Firs and foremost, let me be completely honest. There was a time many, many moons ago when I kind of liked the Kardashians. Okay, maybe "like" is a strong word, but I found them interesting.

Like when you have a class pet gerbil in 3rd grade and you run over to its little cage every day, captivated by what it might do if only you arrive at the right time. And then it just drinks water and poops and you get over it.

Similar to the class gerbil, I quickly found that the Kardashians did nothing that interested me. Their constant talk about being "so excited" to go to the grocery store/get a facelift/go to Bora Bora wore thin and I got sick of them. Fast. None so fast as Kim.

From the very beginning of her "career", I haven't felt like Kim has done much to contribute to society, much less earn the level of fame she has achieved. This is a woman who has more money than I will ever hope to acquire, yet I don't feel like she's done anything of value to have earned it (and really, that's our fault for encouraging her). It seems that Kim and her entire family feel entitled to be consistently in the spotlight for things normal people do every single day. Such as: Take a shower. Consider Botox. Eat breakfast. Analyze a weird mole. Go swimming. Go to the bathroom. It isn't captivating when I do it and it certainly isn't captivating when she does it. And yet, millions of people tune in each week to see what she and her family are up to. I chalked it up to mindless entertainment and ignored it until a few days ago when Kim announced she and her husband Kanye are pregnant with their second child.

Through IVF.

My overly sensitive sensibilities immediately went into overdrive when I learned how Kim had conceived. Right away I started pondering the questions that I'm sure many infertiles did:

1) How long did they even try "the old fashioned way" before seeking fertility treatments?

2) Why keep it hidden and all of a sudden come out on air and in print and discuss it?

3) Didn't she have a kid already without assistance?

4) Does this hurt or help the infertile community?

Let's go over these one at a time and see if we can't flush it all out.

How long did they try before seeking fertility treatments?

I have no idea on the actual timeline. According to this article in People magazine (and I'm not saying it's a credible source), they tried for eight months before turning to fertility treatments. It also states that Kardashian had several surgeries to repair her uterus, which was damaged due to preeclampsia after the delivery of her first child, North. She was apparently told after giving birth that conceiving again would not be possible and turned to IVF for a "miracle baby."

Why keep it hidden and all of a sudden come out on air and discuss it?

Like I mentioned before, I don't watch the show, so maybe she has discussed it in previous episodes. All I know is, one minute I had heard nothing about it and the next minute she's touting the praises of IVF in every magazine that exists. A lot of infertiles keep their mouths shut about their struggles (remember I just talked about this the other day), so I don't know that I can judge her for keeping it relatively quiet.

Didn't she already have a kid without assistance?

Yes. She was pregnant with Kanye's child before her divorce to Kris Humphries was finalized. I'm going to go out on a limb and say that wasn't a planned pregnancy. Again though, the birth of that child is apparently what caused the need for fertility treatments this time around.

Does this hurt or help the infertility community?

This is the crux of the whole thing. To be honest, I don't doubt that Kim struggled to get pregnant the second time around. I don't even doubt that she had preeclampsia. And frankly, it's absolutely none of my business. I wouldn't want people dissecting my fertility treatments and deciding for themselves whether or not I took the right course of action.

But wait...I'm not a reality TV star. Kim is.

Here's the biggest problem I have with the Kim/Kanye/IVF story. I think it hurts the infertility community.

The amount of misnomers and misunderstandings about infertility is already astronomically high thanks to outspoken morons like Dolce and Gabanna. Science babies. Playing God. Rich Bitch Babies. Labels like this get thrown out into the interwebs without a spec of research or understanding. So if I'm Jane and John Doe, never having heard much about IVF or IUI or any of these processes, here's what I'm thinking when I see stories about the new Kardashian baby:

"So what? They had some problems with preeclempsia. My sister had that and she got pregnant again in no time. Kim Kardashian wanted a baby fast and it wasn't happening so she paid a doctor to make her one in a test tube. This is why I hate in vitro."

The Kardashian clan is not exactly known for roughing through anything (except maybe Bruce/Caitlyn now). Their lives are told from a fairy tale angle, where they buy what they want (don't get me started on how many houses they've each had) do what they want (didn't Scott buy a helicopter just because he could?) and say what they want...and get paid for it.

I can't help but think that the public at large will see Kim's story and immediately look at IVF as just another quick fix that celebrities turn to in an effort to procure whatever thrill of the minute is eluding them. They don't know people like you and me that scrimp every penny and go into debt for a chance at one IVF cycle. They don't know the thousands of women who are right now finding out that their third miscarriage will be the last one because the money is gone and their bodies can't take any more. Those are the stories that are lost in the shadows of someone like Kim Kardashian.

The worst part is, it's very possible that Kim really did struggle with everything she's claimed. But she's the girl who cried publicity wolf. She wanted us to feel bad for her when she married a man she met for 9 minutes and it didn't work out. She wanted us to weep for her when she had Botox that went bad and looked weird for a few days. She expected sympathy when she went on "Dancing With the Stars" and hurt her ankle and had to wear an ice pack. And now, she has finally dealt with a very real and very traumatic experience, and I'm feeling a little bit been there, done that. 

It's a crying shame that the one group that should probably be rallying around Kim Kardashian and sharing our stories along with her is turning their backs to her. Because frankly, we're left wondering if it's just another ploy for publicity. Another episode to follow. And folks, that hurts us. It makes us look insensitive and very "you can't sit with us".

But who can blame us? When you're as overexposed and exhibit as much attention seeking behavior as Kim and Kanye and their respective family members, you have to think she maybe saw this coming. For years she's rubbed her wealth and good fortune in our faces. She's received millions of dollars for tweeting that she likes a pair of jeans. Or for putting a champagne glass on her ass and saying she did it for "art".

(Yeah, art in the shape of a lot of Benjamins.)

And now after all this time, she suddenly has this difficult yet happy infertility story, all wrapped up in a pretty little bow for a glossy magazine. It's just hard for me to swallow, especially as someone who struggled for 4 years, not 8 months, to make even one baby.

I think the overarching theme here is, the infertility community is looking for a role model...and it definitely isn't Kim Kardashian. Where are the other high profile women out there that have experienced even a fraction of what we have that will tell their story? 

The answer for me has been Giuliana Rancic, the longtime host of E! News and proud cancer and infertility warrior. She began documenting her infertility struggle in real time on her reality show, "Giuliana and Bill." The show covered it all. The good, the bad, the really, really ugly. I started watching her story before I even knew I had problems conceiving, and by the time I was joining the infertile's club, I felt like I had an ally. Someone who was on a high celebrity playing field, but not hiding from the truth of what infertility is. 

But we need more. 

Giuliana's journey is all but finished now that she has her son via surrogacy. I'm not saying she doesn't remember it all (cuz we all know it never really leaves you), but she's living her life now, focused on other things. We need more women like Giuliana that will not hide behind this self imposed curtain of shame because our bodies don't want to give us babies the "normal" way. We need more women who are having children via surrogacy and donor eggs and IVF and IUI and Clomid and Femera to stand up and talk about it, not just show up in a magazine and mention it as a headline grabber.

We have to be brave and put our stories out there for everyone to hear and understand. Otherwise we're going to have to stick with Kim, and that's just inconceivable.

(Get it?)

XOXO,

PS: Please don't get it twisted; I don't hate Kim Kardashian. I empathize with her if what she experienced is true because I would never wish infertility on anyone. I hope she realizes how truly fortunate she is to have the resources she does. I know she's a human and has feelings, but she puts herself out there for public scrutiny. I'm not saying she's the devil, I'm just stating that I don't think she's the right person to represent this community.

if only I'd known...

This last weekend was Mother's Day and I couldn't help but remembering one year ago looking at all the posts on Facebook and Instagram of new mothers or mothers to be in my feed, making me sadder and sadder that I still wasn't there. I was still just waiting. Waiting for the day it was my turn. This year is obviously quite a bit different as I am waiting to become a mother to the little banana that is growing away in my gut (and starting to kick that gut, as well). 

But fear not. I remember what is was like to be in the infertility shoes. I remember all too well. Several of my friends and acquaintances are just beginning on the infertility journey, so I wanted to share a few thoughts that might help prepare you for the road you're considering heading down. These, as always, are just my experience, so don't expect that you will have the exact same experience. But I do wish I had known a few of these things going in...though maybe it wouldn't even have helped. Sometimes ignorance can be bliss!

1. Be ready to wait

I'm not talking about waiting for treatment, either. I'm talking about waiting to even be seen by a doctor. The harsh reality is, infertility is not uncommon. At all. If you are considering heading to an infertility specialist, I wouldn't wait until you hit the year mark. Once you've been trying for 8 months, give the local infertility place a jingle and ask what kind of wait you will be on to see a doctor. For me, I called after we had been trying for a year and our appointment was set for three further months out. It felt like lost time.

2. Track your cycles and be ahead of the game

When we finally got in to see a specialist, the doc gave me a blank sheet for tracking my cycles and said, "track your basal body temperature for three months, then come back and we can move on." I was devastated. I was wanting to get going right now. And now I had to go home and track my basal body temp for a further three months! Had I shown up with my basal body temps and ovulation dates accounted for already, we probably could have moved on to the next step.

3. The protocol should make sense

If I could change one thing about my infertility treatment, it would be the order in which it occurred. My original doctor (who I later moved on from) put me on Clomid for three months. When that didn't work, she had me go in for an HSG, in which they found a small blockage in my right tube that was easily cleared. So...why didn't I do the HSG first? If I had a blocked tube during those months on Clomid, it was like throwing darts through water. Completely pointless. You will often hear me say (even in this very blog entry) to trust your doctor, but you must also trust in yourself. If something doesn't seem right, speak up! 

4. You really are a number

Every fertility clinic will make promises that you are special, you are unique and you are going to be treated as such. Ya'll, that is a TALL order to fill. These people are working their tails off to make babies for all sorts of different people and sometimes, you are going to get lost in the shuffle. Paying close attention to what your doctor tells you and following up is on you just as much as it is on them. I remember a few times at my doctor thinking, "Geez, he sounds like a robot. Just telling me my results and moving on." But then I would stop and think about how many times a day he does this. How many times he's had to tell someone that their IUI didn't work, or their IVF cycle was a failure. I think about when I have to break bad news to someone and how I feel emotionally drained for days afterward. It's not an easy cross to bear. Yes, these places make a large amount of money for what they do, but remember they are humans. Sometimes it's just self preservation that keeps them from seeming that way.

On the flip side, your doctor or nurse should never be rude to you or disrespect you. If they do, get the hell out and find a new doc.

 5. You can't predict how long it will take - or if it ever will

Whether you know what your problem is (PCOS, endometriosis, sperm quality, etc) or not, there is no accurate timeline that a doctor can give you. I remember someone once telling me that once you see a fertility doctor, if you aren't pregnant in a year, they're doing something wrong. Do not listen to these people. Hope is a wonderful thing, but false hope is the worst. This is not a Nestle Chocolate Chip recipe where you put in the right ingredients and you get a delicious dessert 20 minutes later. You are trying to create a human being.

One common thing that many people succumb to is armchair doctors...aka friends that KNOW what treatment you should be doing. Friends that say things like, "Oh, Femara? My friend didn't get pregnant after 4 months on Femara. Then she switched to Clomid and she got pregnant the next month!" Yes, they are trying to be helpful, but you have got to listen to your doctor. You can certainly mention what your friend advised to your physician, but be prepared for them to roll their eyes and say, "What degree does your friend have?" 

If your doctor makes a promise like, "Oh, we can get you pregnant in six months", may I suggest running away like the building is on fire? Your doctor is just that, a doctor. Not Miss Cleo. No one knows how long this will take, or if it will ever take. There is a reason that surrogate mothers and adoption exist. Some women never make it to the land of conception and that's okay. Just know at the outset that there is always a chance that conceiving may not be in the cards. Going in with knowledge is always better than going in blind.

6. Your cost estimate is wrong

Hubs and I tried to "budget" for infertility treatments. What a complete waste of time. I get it, you want to to sort of have an idea of what it's going to cost to get knocked up, but here's the thing...there's no way to tell. I assumed we'd get pregnant after one round of IUI. Truthfully, IVF was not even in my realm of imagination. And yet, that's where we ended up. 

Oh, and IVF budgets are impossible, too. I remember looking at the costs and saying, "Well, Hubs, we won't need ICSI and we're not doing a frozen cycle, so that saves XYZ dollars. We can afford this. It will be tight, but we can. Yay!"

Fast forward 3 weeks and we found out a) we needed ICSI and b) our cycle changed to frozen when I developed 33 follicles. Again, you are trying to make a baby, not getting the transmission in your car cleaned out. This is unpredictable. If you are really a stickler about what you're going to be spending, I would suggest to make a plan for what it will cost, and then add at least 50%. There are things you will totally forget about and things you never knew were coming. 

7. The worry never goes away

Somehow I was under the impression that once I got pregnant, all my troubles and anxiousness would magically disappear. They didn't. Pregnancy is not easy. It's a roller coaster, just a different type of roller coaster than infertility. Your friends and family might be surprised to hear you even mention unfavorable pregnancy symptoms because, after all, "isn't this what you wanted?" Yes, it is what I wanted. But do I really want to grow this thing inside of me and have it kicking my innards for 9 months? Of course not. I'd love it if I could just skip the whole human coming out of my vajay-jay and produce a child out of thin air. Just because I was an infertile doesn't mean the pain and discomfort of pregnancy are welcomed with open arms.

Think of it this way...remember when you were young and had your first pregnancy scare? (If you didn't, good for you.) Remember how you sat on your bed and cried and prayed for God to give you the worst cramps ever in the history of life if only you wouldn't be pregnant right now? And then your period came and you got the worst cramps ever in the history of life? Did you sit there and say, "This is amazing!!! Thank you for these awful cramps!" Hell no. Same with infertiles and pregnancy. You hope and you wish and beg for it, but when it's happening, it's not exactly a picnic. You can be miserable and still grateful. Ain't no shame in that game.

8. Your relationship will suffer

Don't freak out - I didn't say it would end. I just want you to know that there is no couple on earth who can go through the ups and downs of infertility and not struggle. There are just too many dimensions to the process. You're going through things mentally and physically, and believe it or not, so is your partner. But remember, the only way to get through this is to talk. That might even mean counseling. It's nothing to be ashamed of or hide from. No couple signs on for marriage or a long term commitment expecting that they will have to go through this. It's hard, it's tough and it sucks. But...it can be done. 

I'll save some other tips on how to help in the relationship department in another post on another day, but just know that it will test your relationship and hopefully make it stronger.

9. It may not happen

This is my least favorite part to write, but it is the truth. There are people in this world who don't get a baby. Whether the funds finally dry up or adoption doesn't pan out...ultimately, sometimes the end of the road really does show itself. I'm not saying this to be depressing, I'm saying it because it is the reality of the world we all live in. I don't understand why and I don't pretend to be able to make it better with a blog. All I can tell you is, if you are an infertile, guard your heart and know that sometimes the good guys don't win. If you end up in the pool of those that come to the end of the fertility road, my heart goes out to you. Keep your friends and family close to you and know you gave it everything you had. And no one can take that from you. 

Infertility is a lot to take on. Even admitting that you might be infertile is a huge step. Hell, I didn't even want to say it out loud for a long time. It's a process. A long, stressful process that takes the strength of a warrior. But you are strong and you are a warrior and you will get through it one way or the other. You may not even recognize yourself when you come out the other side. But hang on tight and rely on your friends (bloggy and real life) to get you through it. We're always here.

XOXO my friends,

I'm coming out...

One year ago I remember National Infertility Awareness Week coming and going and doing all I could not to read posts about it. At that time, we had just found that our second round of IUI had not taken and IVF (in vitro) was likely our next and necessary option. I wasn't ready for that. I had been so sure that IUI would work and we would be pregnant by spring, I just wasn't prepared to start looking down the IVF road mentally or financially.

The NIAW (National Infertility Awareness Week) posts in my Facebook and Twitter feed last year encouraged me to stay strong and to rely on friends and family and to be proud of who I was as an infertile. But I just couldn't get to that place in my head. I felt like a huge, fat, failure. I wasn't strong. I wasn't proud. I cried almost every day and hated myself on the rare days I wasn't crying. I blamed genetics and bad luck and any God that was out there for what was happening to me. I didn't want people to see me at my absolute worst. Ironically, that's probably when I needed them the most.

In the end, I let Infertility Awareness Week pass me by without sharing my story. Now, a year later, things have changed. At 18 weeks pregnant via the miracle of IVF, I finally feel like I'm ready. I'm still not strong by any means and I won't lie, I'm a little nervous to let people in. But here's why I'm so sure I want to. Last year when w was so upset and angry and confused, I would have loved to have known there were more people out there that were experiencing what I was experiencing. I personally only knew of a handful. But I also knew that infertility affects 1 in 8 couples, so the number of people that I knew didn't line up with the numbers. That meant there were other women and couples our there like me that were suffering and staying silent, which is their absolute right. But this year, I want to be the person that's there for someone who is struggling and doesn't necessarily want to come right out and shout it from the rooftops. Someone who feels like this tunnel of tests and probing and more testing and more probing will never end. Someone who wonders if anyone out there can possibly imagine what they are going through.

I can. And I did. And I do.

I am so immensely grateful for the people in our lives this last year who gave a listening ear, opened their homes while we crashed for two weeks, sent me flowers and cards and who just called to say, "how are you?" as I went through my IVF cycle. I will never be able to repay those friends who walked me through the process they themselves had been through, or those that said, without prompting, "Colorado flights are expensive, here's my Southwest points to use." That kind of kindness will never be able to be repaid. I want more of that kindness to be spread to those going through infertility. 

The best time to start repaying that kindness is now, so here I am.

If you're reading this blog for the first time after finding it via my FB post, maybe you know someone who is dealing with infertility. Maybe you yourself are. Perhaps you've never even heard the word "infertility". Regardless, I am here as an ear to listen, to share, to help in any way I can. I don't have all the answers but I might have some. I don't have any guarantees but I do have some funny stories to help take your mind off that giant elephant on your back. That's the least I can do.

This blog started as an infertility venting session. Now it's grown into life stories, pregnancy stories, and in a few short months, parenting stories. I hope if you stumbled across it and like what you read, you'll stick around and join in the conversation. Even though I may be pregnant, I may never fully heal from the scars that infertility left behind. Writing about those experiences will help me heal, and hopefully it can help you out, too.

So, I'm coming out. I am an infertile. I still think about it every day. My baby was created in a totally different way than the majority of other babies, and so what? I am stronger because of it. I know there are a lot of women and couples out there who are bobbing along in them fertility boat with me, just trying to keep it from sinking. We have nothing to hide from. We have nothing to be ashamed of.

We're all in this together.

XOXO,