Living Childfree

Another interesting essay in the New York Times Motherlode section, this one on life after choosing to stop infertility treatments. "Every woman facing infertility has to decide when she’s had enough, when she has reached her ethical, emotional, and/or financial edge."

I am very happy with my decision to continue fertility treatments through three round of IVF and genetic testing, but I can totally see how liberating it could be to make the decision to stop.

The article also explores the minefield entered by asking "why don't you just adopt." I was impressed by the author's bravery in articulating, among other things, her ambivalence toward parenthood in the wake of failed infertility treatments.

The image at right is a still from the movie Julie and Julia. It is not from the moment described in the introduction to the essay, in which Julia feels the pain of infertility, but from another, happier moment in her marriage.

Resolve Needs Your Name

RESOLVE has prepared a letter requesting that infertility treatment be considered an essential health benefit which will be sent to Secretary Sebelius on November 1.

Consider signing this petition.
Note: The Essentials Health Benefits are not an insurance mandate and will not force employers to include infertility in their existing coverage. But this is a vital first step to ensuring that infertility treatment be covered by health insurance for everyone.

Fertility Reading

When I was still trying to get pregnant, a close friend had success with her own fertility treatment and tried to explain why she still knew what I was going through even though she now had a baby of her own. "Once infertile, always infertile," she said.

I wasn't sure what she meant, but now, even though I have a baby who requires a great deal of attention, I still read all the articles about infertility I see, and I still check on my favorite fertility message board at Resolve and answer questions about the treatments that helped me.

So, here are some article that have caught my eye of late, an article in Self about fertility over 40, the article in the New York Times to which it refers, and piece from NPR about the risks of having twins.

Healthy, Hungry Baby

On June 14, 2011, I delivered a healthy baby via c-section. The past 5 weeks have flown by, largely because the baby is hungry every 2 or 3 hours and this means we are all sleep-deprived.

I am so grateful for all the doctors (and therapists!) who have helped me get to motherhood. This includes all of my friends and readers who have acted as supplemental therapists over the years.

I may post again soon, and I apologize in advance for the probable incoherence of all future, sleep-deprived communications.

Due Date, Revised

C-secton tomorrow at this lovely hospital.

For those who are interested in the nitty-gritty medical details, my Bishop Score was a 3 or 4, so we decided against trying an induction with a low chance of success.

Send healing thoughts and prayers!!

Due Date

Saturday, June 11, was my baby's due date. If you know me, you will not be surprised to learn that my baby did not arrive on time.

From the beginning, my doctors have been clear that they do not want me to go too far past my due date because of the risk of stillbirth in women over 35. On Monday and Thursday I had special antepartum testing, including a non-stress test with a fetal monitor.

If I don't go into labor on my own, I'll need to decide between a c-section and an induction. There is something called a Bishop Score, which takes various factors like whether your cervix is effaced and dilated and how far your baby has descended into the birth canal, and predicts the likelihood of success of an induction. As of Thursday, my Bishop Score was low, meaning my cervix was closed up like a fortress, and the baby was way high up near my chest, so I elected to wait a few more days.

In the meantime, I must count fetal movement twice a day. If I have 10 movements in an hour, then everything is okay. Usually I get 10 movements in 10 minutes.

Today, though, my baby was lazy, or sleeping, and so it took more than an hour to get the 10 count. I worried about it and worried about it, and finally called the doctor, who said, "Come straight to the hospital. No goofing around!" I tried to remain calm. I did not want to panic my mother, or my dog, or my husband.

Once there, I did another non-stress test and the nurse said everything was absolutely fine, at which point I began to cry.

We see the doctor again on Monday.

PETA Celebrates Infertility

No, I am not kidding. PETA has launched a contest to "celebrate, not lament" National Infertility Awareness Week.

From the press release--
"One lucky man who has his dog or cat neutered between March 28 and April 27 will be reimbursed up to $500 for his own vasectomy.

"The human population explosion is draining water and land resources and causing huge pollution problems," says PETA President Ingrid E. Newkirk, who was "snipped" years ago and highly recommends it. "Volunteering not to add to the crisis for man or dog helps future generations to avoid scrambling to survive, and spaying and neutering can spare millions of dogs and cats from homelessness."

You can read the press release here, and the details of the contest here.

I'm not sure where to begin. It must have been nice for Ms. Newkirk to have the choice to "volunteer" to be "snipped." I just hope that she doesn't think that celebrating a disease that takes away a woman's ability to choose whether or not to be a biological parents makes her a feminist.

Girls on Film

At long last, a photo of Nayla and Erin, on the occasion of Nayla's Baby Shower.
I don't get to see Erin very often, as we live in different states, so I was honored she was able to attend my baby shower on March 12.
For those of you who don't know, Erin is enjoying life with a baby girl, who was born this summer.

In the days before the shower, I was very worried about my emotional reaction to being around a group of women who were happy about my pregnancy. Not that I myself wasn't happy about it, just more that my post-traumatic fertility disorder might make me cry continuously or run out of the room.

But the shower was just perfect, just my mother, mother-in-law, and 8 of my close West Coast friends. I am lucky to have such great support and understanding.

The Road Not Taken

Today I am 17 weeks pregnant. It is difficult to wrap my brain around that fact, even though I am definitely sporting a bump these days, and the ultrasounds all confirm that the bump contains a very wiggly baby.

During my previous 2 pregancies (or 2.1 pregnancies, if you count the chemical pregnancy of last winter) I practiced positive thinking. This did not get me anywhere, so this time around, I gave myself permission to keep thinking about Plan B. Plan B, as is in, what will I do if this pregnancy does not result in a baby?

DH and I have talked all along about adoption, and about gestational carriers, and even, briefly about egg donors, after a particularly bleak consultation with a doctor in Portland.

We didn't get very far in our discussion about egg donors, but I have kept up in my reading about them, because I understand what it is like for anyone for whom living child-free is not an option. As for gestational carriers, we talked a lot about them. DH was nervous about the whole thing, but I had lost such confidence in my body, that I felt like literally anyone off the street could do a better job of gestation than I could.

Meet the Twiblings is a great article in the New York Times Magazine about one couple's journey to parenthood by using one egg donor and two gestational carriers. I love many things about this article, but today I will share one passage that really struck me about how one might choose a genetic stand-in:

I decided the Fairy Goddonor was the person I would have been had our family stayed in Los Angeles; had my hair stayed blond; had I grown up as a sunny outdoorsy California person instead of a brooding indoorsy East Coast person. And if there are brooding genes I prefer they die with me. She was athletic and played tennis and surfed, as I imagined I would have done, and would still do if only I didn’t suffer from the chronic pain condition that I wouldn’t have if I were her — and wouldn’t then pass on to my children. There was an air of appealing gaiety about her. She seemed reasonably, but not excessively, introspective. She did not seem like someone who stayed up late every night writing in her diary for hours, as I did at her age.

Meanwhile, last night my husband brought home a bottle of sparkling cherry juice, and we wished our wiggling fetus a happy new year. Maybe, for us, positive thinking will make a return appearance. Plan B will still be out there; other people are working out the kinks.