In limbo....

We’ve started trying to conceive in late 2009, at age 34 and a year and a half after we got married. I had numerous friends and family who were physicians tell me the chances lower after age 35 so not to worry about waiting to get pregnant. After almost a year of no luck I went to my doctor who showed me a fertility graph. He said due to probability, my chances get higher as each month passes and it will happen at any time. Luckily my gut did not trust that so I pushed to see a specialist. Our reproductive endocronologist (RE) said that nothing was wrong with us but it’s been too long, so we were put in the “unexplained category” - only 2% of all couples have unexplained infertility, which in a way was a good thing as our chances for success were quite high.

In 2011 we started IUI treatments (aka the turkey baster method), which included fertility drugs to grow a good size egg(s) and then injection of sperm directly into the uterus via a catheter. My RE advised that if it doesn’t work within three cycles then we should consider IVF. The drugs made me highly emotional and extremely bloated to the point I looked six months pregnant. Sometimes I had really bad pain during ovulation. But, I found out on Mother’s Day weekend that the third cycle worked.  We were ecstatic but knew about the chance of miscarriage. Our ultrasounds showed a smaller fetus than what was dated, but we had hope.  The day of the Stanley Cup riots in June I started to feel unwell and had a dark spot. Two days later, we headed straight to the ER. I knew that with the bleeding I needed a special injection because only 1% of the population has my blood type which could react with the baby’s blood type that may have Gerry’s. Three ultrasounds later my miscarriage was confirmed at 10.5 weeks pregnant. 

I was scheduled for D&C surgery that night so they could test for chromosome issues to help us determine what happened. After my D&C, I wasn’t fully waking up and my throat/chest didn’t feel right. They kept me overnight and Gerry headed home to sleep. Then I felt my body was starting to crash and I could hardly speak. I kept pressing the nurse button but no one came. I couldn’t call out to the person next to me to get help. My cell phone was near me but I couldn’t think of how to get into my contacts. I dialed Gerry’s number and whispered for him to “come back now”. He was outside the hospital and it took so long to get back up to the 10^th floor using the slow elevators of a really old hospital. He finally arrived and I was sweating and ready to pass out. He grabbed the nurse and so many others came too. Apparently, my blood pressure had suddenly dropped from 110/70 to 60/40 (I was told that I could have had a stroke) and after a ECG, portable chest and other tests they concluded that I got aspiration pneumonia from the 15 minute surgery (likely a 1% chance, but I found no stat on that).  I was in the hospital for three days unable to grieve my loss in a shared room.  I was home for two weeks due to the pneumonia and missed my baby deeply.

My friends had a miscarriage so I knew this was not uncommon, but it hit us hard given how difficult it was to finally conceive. We moved forward and after three more IUI attempts I got pregnant again late November 2011. We felt assured it would be okay because my friends’ second pregnancies were all successful. At six weeks, I already had an appointment with my OB/gyn and told him I was pregnant. He said I conceived like a bunny. He did an ultrasound but felt it could be ectopic (in the tube which could end up bursting) and sent me straight to the hospital for a better scan. I was back in that dreaded place, in the same rooms, with the same fears. Gerry was on his way. The tech said it was a left over cyst and the embryo is nicely planted in the uterus. However, they couldn’t see the fetal pole yet and not to worry. So of course I worried and googled and googled and called my RE who scheduled more scans. Baby started to grow but smaller than what it should be. I had six ultrasounds before they finally confirmed the heartbeat was gone. Miscarriage #2 at 8 weeks. I didn’t want to go through surgery again but wanted the chromosome testing done. Women’s hospital that does D&C’s without full anesthesia was closed over the Christmas period. They told me the other choice was to wait it out and put what expels in a Ziploc bag and keep it in my fridge until a lab opens! I ran over to my OB/gyn’s office across the street and he got it organized to go back to the hospital and I got my second D&C done. When I woke up, the male nurse in the recovery room strongly but kindly told me the next time he sees me, it will be for my c-section. This time there were no complications, but it was three days before Christmas.

I gained weight because of the stress and I couldn’t exercise regularly due to the treatments and post-ovulation “take it easy time”. Throughout this time, I dealt with continuous insensitive and cruel remarks that still bother me to this day. There’s the frequent “where’s the baby?” comments which we got accustomed to, "I guess you'll just have one" referring to my age of 32 at the time, "oh you can always have twins" referring to my guaranteed need for IVF even at the age 34, then pregnancy remarks, stares and rubs at my bloated tummy, but it started to escalate to joking about which sex position would give us better luck and “what’s wrong with you??…oh, don’t worry, [name of younger male] can make you a baby”. When we got Moshi, a comment was "oh the dog is your baby now." Believing in God’s plan and patience became more and more difficult. My friends and family all had their first baby when we had started trying before them and looking at Facebook updates of all the happiness became depressing at times, no matter how genuinely happy I was for them. I saw babies born the same time mine were supposed to be and I questioned why it was easy for them/ meant to be for them, but not us.

We only had two cycles left of the IUI’s which was a bummer to say the least since we were lucky with “three” in the past. If I did any more, it could cause ovarian cancer. Towards the end of my second cycle in March 2012, I was terminated from my job of 10 years (I was brought into the boardroom a week after my ten year anniversary went completely unrecognized) with no reason provided. My new boss knew everything about our infertility rollercoaster including that I needed some time off in April (in a couple of weeks) for IVF. I was completely distraught but was trying to stay calm because I may have been pregnant as my period was due soon. My final client project for my master’s degree was 30% done and I had to start over. They took away my blackberry knowing I didn’t have a landline, was denied to get my own purse and coat from my office of ten years let alone all my school work and other things there. I called Gerry’s number again because that number (as well as my mom’s) is the only one I remember by heart! I got my period a bit early that month (maybe it was the stress, maybe it was just meant to be) and we ended up cancelling the IVF.

Without going into here about all the details of what happened at work and the comments that were made from my new boss, in a nutshell, I hired a lawyer who was appalled at what had happened and the evidence I had collected over the past year that made for a very compelling discrimination case based on gender, age, family status, and disability, i.e the infertility.

I lost a high paying job with excellent benefits for fertility treatments and maternity leave top up and was now in a position of having to find a job ASAP before I got visibly pregnant and therefore a slim chance of being hired. The day I got canned I somehow updated my resume and applied for a position an old friend told me was closing that night. I got my resume in slightly before midnight. We finally settled, but because I got a new job within three weeks (however at 4 days a week taking a huge pay cut and far inferior benefits package), the settlement was mitigated which happens under public sector legislation. I was so incredibly close to going to the Human Rights Tribunal out of principle but was strongly advised by my lawyer that I would be perceived as a troublemaker in my industry. It would also take some time for a hearing to be scheduled and we needed to put this behind us. I had read that for some people, losing your job is like experiencing a death in the family, which was what I experienced because I had put so much dedication into that organization. On top of that I felt humiliated, fearful of my future, in doubt of my abilities, and in rage about why this shit was happening to us. A few days before my job loss, a dear friend found out her baby was stillborn during labour. That news deeply affected us, but also put into perspective that things could be far, far worse.

I was lucky that my new job was a much better environment for me than the toxicity I dealt with before, but I told them nothing about my infertility and real reasons for my job loss. Only that I needed a couple days off in July 2012 for a medical procedure.

We decided to try the IVF despite starting a new job because the chances were higher at age 36 than waiting any longer. The cycle was painful and difficult but we had, according to my RE, outstanding results. Some couples only get a several good eggs and a resulting few embryos to implant. Gerry told me the lady next to me cried because she overheard my doctor tell us we retrieved 19 really good eggs whereas she only produced eight. The nurse told her it was about quality and she was right. My heart went out to her as that could have been me.

Of the 19 eggs, 17 fertilized by ICSI where they inject the sperm directly into the egg rather than letting them mingle in a dish. By day 3 we had 15 highly graded embryos and by day 5 we had 14 embryos. They implanted two blastocysts (highly developed embryo with tons of cells) but only froze 4 of the remaining 12 blasts because the clinic has high standards and doesn’t want to raise expectations with some embryos not graded as high. A few days before my bloodtest I started to bleed heavily and I thought it was over. My repeated blood tests though were positive and kept climbing. We prayed hard and listened to my RE who said many women have bleeding during pregnancy and those stories on TV where women did know they were pregnant were actually true. But then my HCG levels dropped and I had my third miscarriage at 5 weeks. Apparently, less than 1% of all couples suffer from three recurrent losses. Yes, we continue to buy lotto tickets. I sat on the couch for most of August watching the Olympics and not socializing because when I tried it just wasn’t fair to others. Same friends and family were now on to their second child and we were still stuck. I tried hard not to feel like a failure.

In early October, I had another surgery to repair the small bit of scarring in my uterus due to the previous D&C’s. It was only a precaution as my docs thought the embryo would likely not implant in the lower corner but hey, you never know with my luck! I went back to same hospital thinking I was a pro at this but I broke down while waiting alone in the patient area in surgical day care and had a mild panic attack when they put the oxygen mask on me in the OR. I went to work the next day and felt like crap so my manager nicely covered one of my meetings for me. Later in the month, I finally told my manager and close colleagues everything because I needed a couple days off again for the upcoming frozen cycles. I don’t ever know which exact days the procedures will be so it makes it difficult to schedule around it, and when you work in a hospital, everyone gets concerned if you are okay if you tell them you need to leave for a doctor’s appointment (which is quite nice but funny). I thought it was going to be easy for me to tell them, but was surprised at how hard it was to come out with it. My new workplace was my safe haven where no one knew about all this and I could just focus on my job.

Recently I became drawn to come back to Facebook after a one year absence because of (1) the courageous Amanda Todd story – a young girl here in BC who posted her bullying story on Youtube but sadly she committed suicide soon after, and (2) a friend who courageously came back to FB after going through a traumatic loss in her life. A few weeks ago I posted:

First time on FB in almost a year. I'm sitting here thinking about how to make FB work for me, "where I don't feel pressured beyond representing myself authentically. I'm not worried about traffic or an audience or comments on the blog portions of my site......soon I'll have a place to share (and not share) what is true, and on my own terms." If I filter down my connections for a while, please don't take it personally as I value all my friendships on this site.

I decided to come back in a limited way, with limited contacts, as a friend taught me about the word “stay”. Throughout this ordeal, I told some people of what I’ve been through. That group has lowered as many did not “stay”. Even though they sympathize and feel badly, it is very common for people to not know what to say, not want to upset you, or unable stick through the hard times in a world of happy updates we all tend to see on FB. I don’t blame those people for not staying (well that's not entirely true). I’m not in a happy state but some days are certainly better than others and it depends on the social situation (chatty groups are much easier). Being “authentic” (another word my friend taught me) was about being able to laugh when I feel like laughing knowing there is still this profound sadness that I feel as an underlying layer.

So I TRIED to come back to FB to share with you what is really going on in my life (happy or sad), to see what is going on in your life (happy or sad), but to also feel authentic in what I communicate – if that makes any sense…but I failed, because I just wasn't ready to fully come out with it. I deleted over a 100 FB contacts I hardly ever saw or spoke with much socially. I wasn't ready for people to not "get it" so I joined two support groups - one for infertility, and another for pregnancy and infant loss which had many members who had stillborn babies. I felt though I was in a hybrid of both groups. I'll comment more on that some other time. I then started to tell a few more of my friends but felt more on the defence about how I feel, our plans, why I've put on weight, my lack of positive energy, and why I'm still not done my Master's degree, etc, etc... 

To my friends and family who have “stayed”, I truly, sincerely, thank you. Some of you did not know about these events prior to this post, and I share this with you to communicate what’s been going on with me, how I feel moving forward, and to feel a bit courageous to put myself out there. 

In a nutshell, my life is in a constant state of limbo.....a feeling I will describe more to you later on.