When I first met Kevin and his band of merry men, the guys told me how glad they were that Kevin and I met. Was it because Kevin had finally found a quick wit to match his? Was it my charm and good looks? The fact that I supported Friday nights apart, so he could play video games and I could sit home and watch Housewives? Nope! This group of burly, crass pirates were so pleased I showed up because their dear friend Kevin only had "one egg left!"
We joked about that one egg for a good long while- Kevin's last, dusty, old egg. It was all moons over my hammy jokes until we found out our odds of having a baby naturally were only about 6%. THUD... It might as well have been only one egg left. When you are infertile (Side note: Grimace. Can we have a better name for this other than infertility? Someone clever please come up with something. Infertile makes me feel both biologicially defective and oddly medieval) there are a battery of tests and a hosts of reasons. Kevin and I are in the 30% bucket where it was something in both of us. It might sound awful, but knowing that it was both of us felt easier. We carried the burden like we do everything else in our marriage, as partners.
After they figure out the "what" the doctors try to help you figure out "how." Kevin and I went through 4.5 failed procedures over the course of a year. Each one was a roller coaster, great if you like roller coasters, but I don't. Side note: Disneyland is my roller coaster speed. I will never be Magic Mountain. Plus Disney has Dole pineapple whips. There are exhilarating highs and stomach dropping lows. You wait, you hope, maybe you get lucky, maybe you just throw up your Dole pineapple whip. And then you get on the ride again and stick shots in your belly. Like a crazy person! Side note: I have never been more thankful to have a little more muffin in my top, than when having to stick a needle in it! Cheers to muffin tops and dole pineapple whips!
I once asked Kevin if having a baby in today's world was a selfish choice, his answer was "raising good people is how we make this world a better place." People will ask why didn't you adopt? The answer to that is we were interested in adoption and had just started looking at agencies when we got Kevin's diagnosis. A cancer diagnosis abruptly closes the door to adoption. We had about a week to try and preserve Kevin's "contributions" for future attempts. Then my diagnosis came. This time we had about 3 days to decide again if we would try to preserve anything. So as we were navigating a diagnosis, appointments and treatment plans I took more shots. I had about 2 weeks for a protocol (that's what they call a cycle basically) before I would have my port put in for chemo. And so the roller coaster began again.
Then last Friday the embroyologist (lady who watches your cells turn into something) called. There were no cells that made it to the necessary stage. No moons over my hammy. And then I cried. For the loss that day, for the losses before, for the loss of chances to come. I did not however cry all day, although I would not judge anyone in this position if they did. Instead I filled up my heart by holding my husband's hand, with wonderful friends, delicious food, amazing wine and my beautiful city. This chapter is closed now. I don't know what the next chapter will look like. Hopefully it has Dole pineapple whips. I like Dole pineapple whips way more than I like eggs.
We joked about that one egg for a good long while- Kevin's last, dusty, old egg. It was all moons over my hammy jokes until we found out our odds of having a baby naturally were only about 6%. THUD... It might as well have been only one egg left. When you are infertile (Side note: Grimace. Can we have a better name for this other than infertility? Someone clever please come up with something. Infertile makes me feel both biologicially defective and oddly medieval) there are a battery of tests and a hosts of reasons. Kevin and I are in the 30% bucket where it was something in both of us. It might sound awful, but knowing that it was both of us felt easier. We carried the burden like we do everything else in our marriage, as partners.
After they figure out the "what" the doctors try to help you figure out "how." Kevin and I went through 4.5 failed procedures over the course of a year. Each one was a roller coaster, great if you like roller coasters, but I don't. Side note: Disneyland is my roller coaster speed. I will never be Magic Mountain. Plus Disney has Dole pineapple whips. There are exhilarating highs and stomach dropping lows. You wait, you hope, maybe you get lucky, maybe you just throw up your Dole pineapple whip. And then you get on the ride again and stick shots in your belly. Like a crazy person! Side note: I have never been more thankful to have a little more muffin in my top, than when having to stick a needle in it! Cheers to muffin tops and dole pineapple whips!
I once asked Kevin if having a baby in today's world was a selfish choice, his answer was "raising good people is how we make this world a better place." People will ask why didn't you adopt? The answer to that is we were interested in adoption and had just started looking at agencies when we got Kevin's diagnosis. A cancer diagnosis abruptly closes the door to adoption. We had about a week to try and preserve Kevin's "contributions" for future attempts. Then my diagnosis came. This time we had about 3 days to decide again if we would try to preserve anything. So as we were navigating a diagnosis, appointments and treatment plans I took more shots. I had about 2 weeks for a protocol (that's what they call a cycle basically) before I would have my port put in for chemo. And so the roller coaster began again.
Then last Friday the embroyologist (lady who watches your cells turn into something) called. There were no cells that made it to the necessary stage. No moons over my hammy. And then I cried. For the loss that day, for the losses before, for the loss of chances to come. I did not however cry all day, although I would not judge anyone in this position if they did. Instead I filled up my heart by holding my husband's hand, with wonderful friends, delicious food, amazing wine and my beautiful city. This chapter is closed now. I don't know what the next chapter will look like. Hopefully it has Dole pineapple whips. I like Dole pineapple whips way more than I like eggs.
You are fertily challenged. Not a word, but an idea. You are clearly way more non-challenged in every other aspect of life. Duh.
ReplyDelete