Comrades in ART(s)

Two years ago, I started trying to get pregnant. And then, because I was 35, about six months later, I started fertility treatments. In January, I amped up the intensity of that project by starting an IVF cycle. This is an intense thing, with lots of shots and appointments and nausea, and maybe that’s why I was able to ignore the frequency with which my mother was taking my father to doctors to address his fatigue. Maybe.

In March, the doctor retrieved a bunch of eggs, and my husband made his contribution, and then, like magic, there were these embryos sitting in a cryopreservation facility in San Jose California. My parents were thrilled. They talked about their hypothetical grandchildren as long as I can remember. Three days after the creation of these embryos, I went back down to San Jose and the doctor transferred two of them back into my uterus. A week later, while waiting to find out whether I was pregnant, my parents told me that my father had stage-four pancreatic cancer. He had between six and nine months to live. I was devastated. I was also, unbelievably, pregnant. Nine months, I thought. Nine months for my father to live. Nine months of gestation for his grandchild. Could I beat that deadline?

I spent the next few months in Florida with my parents. I went with them to the doctor appointments. I went with them to chemo. And one day, I drove myself to the emergency room and found out I was probably having a miscarriage. I went into the hospital for three days, because it was not a normal, routine miscarriage. And then the normal terrible series of events of cancer unfolded. My father died on May 31. I did not beat the deadline. I did not give my father the grandchild he had talked about all of my life.

And now I have started round two of IVF. Is it a sad, tragic time? Is it a hopeful adventure? I have no idea. What I do know is that in the books and blogs on fertility, they like to talk about a Fertility Journey, which makes it sound a lot more like a Carnival Cruise than the malarial jungle trek that it has been for me. Which bring me to the top three reasons for writing this blog, right here, right now, with Erin:

1. I am a Compulsive Information Gatherer: When I started IVF the first time, I went on Amazon and purchased a whole bunch of books. I did random internet searches, and scared the estrogen out of myself with those. I kept hoping to find the source that would tell me exactly how to give myself the shots, exactly what they would feel like, exactly when it was okay to feel hopeful, and exactly when it was okay to be annoyed that I have to go through all of this crap. I read all the books, and they gave some modicum of information about the process, but Erin was really my go-to person. As a bonus to her natural intelligence and writing skills and her personal experience with fertility treatments, she also has a medical background, so she actually knows how things work.
2. Erin is Entertaining: I find conversations with Erin to be endlessly witty, informative, and fascinating. Other people should have the opportunity to be entertained by her posts. Especially women going through IVF, who need all the entertainment and understanding they can get. And especially, especially women who are going through IVF after the recent loss of a parents, because, well, life just kind of sucks for them in a very particular way.
3. Comrades in ART(s): When my father was dying of cancer, I started to get the feeling that I didn’t want to be around people who hadn’t gone through a tragedy. Not that that there weren’t lovely, empathetic people who supported me through my first round of IVF and then through my miscarriage, and then again through my father’s hospitalizations and death. I was blessed with an amazing set of friends all through all of that. It’s just that the people who had lost a loved one, they really knew. It made me understand why people who go through war together have such a bond, because no matter how empathetic or well-read or a good listener, no one else really understands. And to add to that the Big Crazy that can be a result of Assisted Reproductive Technologies like IVF, well, it makes Erin my comrade in Assisted Reproductive Technology and Grief, it puts me in her elite Special Forces Unit of Fertility and Mortality.