Need something to read? Try this

If you're looking for ways to fill the time as you wait to take your pregnancy test...or for adoption paperwork to move through the system...or to get to your due date...

read the December 2009 (12:4, p 175-184) article about the wonderful community of Choice Moms worldwide that you are joining, as detailed in a survey report by Susan Golombok's Cambridge University research team, "'Mom by choice, single by life's circumstance…' Findings from a large scale survey of the experiences of single mothers by choice."

You can access it from ChoiceMoms.org.

Mikki

Waiting on third IVF

submitted by Jen

This is the first day of my third 2ww. My first two IVF cycles failed. The first one was with my then husband, and I was so stressed out. I got ovarian hyperstimulation syndrome (OHSS). It was the summer of 2006. I got upset at him for every little thing, some things littler than others, and the schedule was difficult because we needed to move 1000 miles away between the retrieval and the transfer. He did the move and I followed, then I started work right away.

When I got the call that I wasn’t pregnant I thought the nurse was joking. The embryos had high fragmentation. I was so upset that I told my husband we had to take a weekend away, right away. A good friend at work who was also ttc got her good news the same day. I spent about two months researching my options, the details of fragmentation, getting second, third, and fourth opinions on chat lines (AFA) with doctors, with RESOLVE, with doctors I saw in person.

The next time I tried IVF was this past March-April. I got OHSS again and I was in the middle of an acrimonious divorce. The embryos looked a lot better this time and had low fragmentation. My dr wanted to try again, on a lower dose of gonal-F and repronex, and we did it. I cried once a day because I felt so alone. I did get better at the SC injections. The IM injection of HcG took a few tries, and when I succeeded I called a friend. I think I knew it didn’t work in advance, and when the nurse called I wasn’t surprised.

I was okay until I talked to my mom, at which point her crying led me to cry. I had to suspend treatments for four months at that point because of travel and work.

My biggest fear is miscarriage, because I’ll have gotten my hopes up for weeks and then I’ll be devastated.

My biggest fear is that I’ll be disappointed; that I’m ‘jinxing’ myself by thinking too much and telling family and a few close friends about the process. Like I’ll let them down, and let myself down. I want to do something meaningful every day of this
two-week journey, no matter how small it is. Today I asked for something I wanted -- dinner delivered to me by a family member -- and I got it. The pleasure in knowing I can ask others for what I need, which hasn’t always been the case, and the fact of their response are equally important to me.

I went to yoga this morning for the first time in months, and I loved it. I am proud of that too. I hope that I can live these two weeks in ways that are dignified and
loving and passionate. That I’ll hope, and accept the outcome no matter what it is. I got through it on those earlier tries, didn’t I?

Phantom pregnancies and other bumps in the night

a thread on the discussion board from women in the agonizing WAIT stage prompted this response from Lorie, well worth sharing:

This post is great because it bought out all the "weird" things we do when TTC.

Leading up to the first try I had rearranged my whole life mentally. I had a serious talk to my flatmate (I was sharing with my best friend) about the baby that was coming and telling her that she needed to decide whether she was prepared to share with a single mother and baby etc etc.

Three days after my IUI, I started getting pregnancy symptoms, needing to go to the toilet often, feeling like my tummy had gotten bigger. A few days later I thought my breast were so much bigger that I needed a new bra. By this stage my flatmate thought I had completely lost the plot and said she really began getting worried when I kept putting my hand on my belly like 9-month pregnant women do.

Of course my weirdness must have rubbed off because when I did my pregnancy test on some ridiculous day, like day 8, I got a very very faint line and I remember jumping for joy with her in the bathroom and then she said "I'll do the other pregnancy test too, to make sure they work," knowing that she couldn't be pregnant. I remember jumping for joy that hers was blank.

I also remember how much sadder I got each day after that joyful day, when my pregnancy tests were blank. When my period finally came, it was the first time I really understood the true significance of bleeding each month -- previously it was something that was just annoying really. And then the emptiness of the next few days.

Of course I giggle now looking back, because being blessed enough to have become pregnant -- five tries and two years later -- I now understand when the symptoms come (or more to the point, how late in the pregnancy they actually come).

But that first try...I was so excited and so hopeful and so certain. I had done lots of reading and was practically a pregnancy symptoms expert before the IUI. Prior to my first attempt I would longingly look at baby things all the time and had to stop myself from buying them.

One of the real joys I had during pregnancy was when I felt I was able to look AND buy. I had sooo many baby clothes by the time my baby was born -- she happened to be born about the size of a 3-month-old at birth and didn't even fit into half the little cutey things I had bought.

Everything about wanting a baby is weird, but in a wonderful way. How it creeps up on you, how it overtakes your every cell, and how you will go through so much to get one. And how scary it is when it fails. And how hard it is sometimes to resign yourself to the fact that its not going to be (as I did when I was T42, six IVF treatments later, having to start from scratch each time).

I think that it's nature's way of letting us know that we are ready and making us do what it takes to get one.

So I say cheers to all the weird things that push us along to one of the most magnificent journeys you could ever undertake.

Waiting on IVF eggs...

submitted by Kriste

I am in my first (and only) 2ww. I underwent an IVF transfer on Tuesday. I can only afford to do this once, so to be honest, I am almost dreading the blood test next week. It could be a wonderful day, or it might be devastating. In any case, good luck to you! It is so hard to be in limbo like this. I'll be thinking of you.

For anyone who is interested in the experience of my last few days, you are welcome to read on . . .

My younger sister is my egg donor. The egg retrieval came sooner than we expected. It was on Saturday morning, and it didn't go as well as we had hoped. The doctors were not able to reach one of her ovaries at all, so there were only 6 oocytes retrieved. We were very disappointed; no one had told us that this could happen, but they had told us that were at least 12 ready to retrieve. Since this is the only retrieval I was planning on subjecting my dear sister to, we were really counting on those 12 (I was hoping to cryopreserve at least 2 embryos for another try, in case this time didn't work). We were both pretty crushed on Saturday. I was even more so because I knew my sister was upset, and that alone broke my heart.

On Sunday, the embryologist called to say that only 3 of the eggs had fertilized. I spent all of Sunday and Monday terribly depressed and worried about further attrition. I had not contemplated the possibility of coming *this* far and then maybe not having anything to transfer.

The transfer was on Tuesday morning. There was only one really good embryo that had made it to the 8 cell division. One was 5 cells with fragments and the other was only 4 cells. The doctors said that it was possible those last 2 embryos would develop further if they were in the womb, but that they probably wouldn't do as well in the lab, and they probably would not survive cryopreservation. Considering that this was my one and only chance, the doctors felt that it was okay to transfer all 3, even though the limit at this clinic is 2. I was okay with that, since I was not feeling very optimistic.

In summary, I have been alternately freaked out or depressed since Friday (that was the day I started the evil progesterone shots), but yesterday I started to feel a little more positive. I've decided to concentrate very hard on the "now". Right "now", I have three tiny embryos floating around in my uterus- three potential beings! I was diagnosed with POF at age 14 and never in my life thought that this would be possible, so that itself is worth celebrating, right? (Oh, I have pictures of them too- isn't that so weird? Imagine having pics of yourself as an embryo in your baby book!) Hopefully this weekend at least one of them will implant . . .

In the meantime, I am ready to burst into tears at the slightest provocation.

Another kind of two week wait

Here's another Choice Mom/Mum-in-the-making who has a different kind of two week wait.

Pays to be reminded: there are so many thing we wait for in life. Not everything is in our control, of course. Patience, and hope, and open-mindedness to new directions are good things. Sometimes if only to test our resolve and determination as we embark on something new.

As long as we keep on walking in the direction of our goals, rather than letting someone else's decisions end up dictating what we can do with our own lives.

Here's one Australian woman's blog.

What you can do while you're waiting....

also posted on Becoming and Choice Mom blogs, because it's just that important:

A 40-year-old Choice Mom-in-the-making, who lived in the D.C. area, suddenly died Christmas Day while 32.5-weeks pregnant, from the very rare pregnancy complication of HELLPS (Hemolytic anemia, Elevated Liver enzymes, and Low Platelet count).

Her baby boy was born safely, but she did not get to meet him.

On SO many levels this is tragic and makes all of us in the Choice Mom community stop with a collective gasp and remember what a blessing it is that all of us are here to enjoy the friends and family that surround us.

There are two silver linings in this woman's story.

One is that she was connected to her local Single Mothers by Choice community, which is now contributing to a trust fund in her son's name. Choice Moms is now beginning the steps toward establishing a fundraising event to involve our worldwide community. I'll continue to post here as this develops.

The second silver lining is that she was as prepared as anyone can be for this kind of tragedy.

This woman already had a guardian picked out, life insurance, and a will prepared. But most of us don't have this level of foresight, especially when we are so eager to conceive, deliver and embark on motherhood for the first time.

Choice Moms wants to help all of us become better educated about the importance of these steps BEFORE you plan to bring a child home. As Jessica, who told me about this woman's story, pointed out, many insurance companies won't give you insurance if you are pregnant.

We will be hosting an event in D.C. on May 9 (the day before Mother's Day) to help build awareness about what we need to do, as single parents, for our children legally and financially. In the meantime, while you are waiting to bring a child home, check out the ChoiceMoms.org website this month to learn more about what you can do to prepare.

Too Good To Be True

submitted by Jeanne:

Too good to be true – the first words that came to my mind when I thought I was pregnant (that little stick had a dark line!) and when the nurse confirmed it after my bloodwork.

Wow – here I am, 40, and I only had 3 unmedicated IUIs. Many women talk about trying multiple times and eventually introducing fertility medications. Could I have really been so lucky? Let’s face it, up to now, in the “dream family” area, I haven’t been so lucky. No Prince Charming came by on his horse to build the big house with the white picket fence for our 10 kids.

At 6 weeks, I nervously went for my first ultrasound. What if something is wrong? I almost didn’t believe the doctor when she said there was something there, with a heartbeat! I saw the small blip on the monitor, beating away. Okay, so maybe it is true. Then I remember that I’m only 6 weeks, lots could go wrong. But, am I spoiling everything by being so negative? People in my life are telling me to enjoy it – that I can’t worry about it all the time.

So, time passes. Everything seems to be fine. I’m eating well and doing everything I’m supposed to. I relax enough to venture into the maternity clothing shops. Do I dare actually buy something? I decide I have to think positively and I need to build up my wardrobe eventually. I start to let myself get a bit excited, always realizing I shouldn’t get too attached to the “potential baby“ yet.

More time passes – I can’t wait to tell people at work that I’m pregnant. Three other women there are due a few months before me. By now, my family and close friends know I’m pregnant. I have a 12-week ultrasound scheduled on a Monday and decide I will tell everyone about the pregnancy the next day at the staff meeting. Might as well make sure everything is okay first. I had thought to myself, and actually jokingly said to some friends, that it will be nice to have confirmation that there is actually still a baby there. I am feeling fine and there are no signs of any trouble.

I decide to attend the ultrasound alone. It’s fairly routine and the baby won’t look like much yet. An OB/GYN will be doing the ultrasound for me. I get special treatment because of the way the baby was conceived, they tell me. The doctor is an hour behind, but I finally make it into the ultrasound room. She’s with a student, who will be observing the procedure. She starts to look, but can’t seem to find what she’s looking for. She mumbles something about gas, and says we’ll have to try a vaginal ultrasound. She jokes that my lunch (causing gas) is making it tough to see. I start to get a bit nervous, but she seems to act like nothing is wrong. I’m sent to empty my bladder.

When I return, I notice the monitor has been moved to face away from me. No one is saying much and she begins to look around. She snaps a few pictures, but is not saying anything. I think that was the point that I stopped breathing. She looks up and says it’s not good news. Millions of things go through my mind in that split second. At some point I realize she’s telling me that there’s no baby there...nothing...gone.

She can see an empty sac, that’s all. She and the student are just looking at me. I’m not sure if they expect that I’ll collapse or break down. How am I supposed to react? One minute ago I was thinking about all the people I was going to e-mail the ultrasound picture to and about how I’m going to shock my co-workers when they find out what I’ve been up to. The next minute, it’s all over. Gone.

The doctor is very kind and explains my options – wait for the miscarriage to happen or induce it with drugs or a D&C. I’m still sitting there stunned, not able to make any decisions. She must have realized this, because she said we could wait another week and check again. This is what I decide to do.

I go home and start to read all the stuff on the Internet that talks about misdiagnosed miscarriages. I know it’s likely false hope, but could that be what’s happening to me? I haven’t had any bleeding, cramps, etc. I decide it’s good that I’m waiting a week before doing anything, just in case.

A week crawls by. I go to work and pretend all is the same. After all, they don’t know I was pregnant. They have no idea I’d even been trying!

Partly I’m relieved that I don’t have to catch them looking at me with pity, but partly I feel that my loss is not given justice. Part of me can’t help thinking they would think, 'well, what does she expect? Trying to get pregnant that way, and at her age!'

The few friends and family that do know are supportive and caring. But at the end of the day, when you’re single, you go through this alone. The loss isn’t the same to someone who wasn’t the potential parent. There’s no daddy to grieve with. I know that “daddies” aren’t always supportive, but some are! And I didn’t even have the option of having one that is. Another loss to grieve alone.

I return to the doctor, knowing she was right. The baby is gone. A missed miscarriage – that’s why I have had no symptoms. Another ultrasound confirms that. I decide to take the medication that will induce miscarriage so that I can start trying again as soon as possible.

I’m told the medication will cause some pain and bleeding, then it will be done. Again, I feel a bit sorry for myself that I have to endure this experience without a partner. Without getting into huge detail, I end up reacting unusually to the medication. I hemorrhage for 17 hours – 15 of those hours are spent in hospital. I end up having to have the D&C I was hoping to avoid. It takes me over a week to recover from the blood loss. This will delay getting back to “normal” a couple more months.

I search the Internet for support. Most of the time I’m okay, but sometimes it overwhelms me. Miscarriage is hard for any woman. But I can’t help thinking about the fact that I don’t have endless time or an endless supply of sperm. I can’t just get back to trying and see what happens. Given the financial expense, I have to be reasonably sure that my body is ready for another pregnancy.

It’s hard to find a website that supports someone like me. All the ones I find talk about the couple coping with miscarriage. Can they really understand my situation? Maybe I’m not giving them a chance. But, I just feel they’ll read my story and pity me for not being able to find a man. Maybe I’m wrong about that, but I don’t have the energy to find out right now.

So now I wait until I have one natural cycle, and plan to try again. I hope I can stay sane through all this. I hope that if – no, when – I do get pregnant again, I won’t live in constant fear of losing the baby. I know I will probably wait until I’m almost giving birth before I tell everyone again – if I can hide it that long!

I keep trying to tell myself that it’s not too good to be true. That this can happen for me...