Learning to say goodbye

The past 36 hrs have been hard ones. The beta from today marked the end of a 2.5 yr journey towards pregnancy and biological children. There have been tears and anger. Despair and numbness. We both feel lied to, blaming ourselves and the world for this pain. Yet, in the end, both Grey and I know that this is the end. We've fought a good fight; it's time to let go.

The struggle for us now is grieving and saying goodbye to the children we wanted so desperately. These past few months, the image of them has slowly faded from my mind, but I never allowed myself to truly believe that they would not exist. Afterall, IVF is suppose to work; happy endings are suppose to happen following loss and struggle. Yet here we are at the crossroads, both of us knowing full well that we need to grieve this loss and bury them in order to move forward. That without doing this, our children will never find us.

How does one go about saying goodbye? Keiko Zoll posted about writing a letter to her biological child, while others have talked about doing something to mark the transition, be it with a memorial or some act. Right now my mind is clouded and healing needs to be the main focus, but I do want to do something for them. I'm just at a loss for what.

In 3 days, Grey and I will be celebrating our 8th wedding anniversary. It's bitter-sweet to think about us as a newly-married couple, full of hope for the future and sure of our family. How different we are now and uncertain. Yet how determined.

Tonight I'm holding the images of my sweet someday children tight, kissing them each goodbye. I know very soon that those images will be nothing more than a memory. A sweet dream that was never meant to be.

Thank you all for your sweet words and prayers. I've shown Grey all of your emails and comments, each of which have helped both of us feel less alone in the world during this time.

Anatomy of a hater

Haters. Our society is filled with them. No matter where you go, you're bound to encounter a hater. They wear their hate like a badge of honor, prepared to argue with anyone who disagrees and quick to pass criticism. Haters are quick to anger, scoffing at ideas they announce are naive. But one thing is clear with all haters: they all are deeply afraid of what they hate. 

Since being diagnosed with infertility, Grey and I have encountered our fair share of ART haters. Both of us have been lectured about how immoral and selfish our actions are, how we are overpopulating the world, how our infertility is G_d's way of telling us we are unfit to parent, etc. Over time, we've both become hardened to this hate. The hate from those who are clearly ignorant about infertility and the pain of miscarriage. But we've also learned that there is more behind this hatred than presented; the need of the individual passing judgement to feel superior, the inability of the hater to empathize with our pain, the lack of love this person may be experiencing in life. 

Being at the crossroads have introduced us to a new breed of haters, the ones few expect to encounter: the adoption haters. These haters are ones that I've been well aware of for some time. Being from the midwest, I'm aware of the white-trash value that "no loving parent would ever give away their child," but for Grey this hatred is new. His family's embrace of adoption and the assumption that love can conquer all has shielded him from these people. So initially he poo-pooed me, assuming my observations were simply a by-product of an abusive past. And then he began finding websites. He began reading the lies these cowards spread; the fear that they try to instill in others. And like most, Grey responded to the haters in a way most of us do. He responded with anger and rage, condemning them for their bitterness. If he would have been allowed to persist, the haters would have won.

So how does one counter hate like this? Honestly, it's something I've been struggling with since I first began becoming the focus hate and being the subject of attack. With the ART haters, I found it easier to confront them when necessary, but mainly I've been quiet. Partly because I've been tired from battling everything else in life in the pursuit of children. Partly because it's been easier to be quiet, since ART haters are some of the most misinformed individuals out there. But with the adoption haters, it's become evident that I can no longer be silent. Because it's no longer just about me; these people will attack my children. So, even though I'm not holding them in my arms, it's now my job to counter this hate, to defend my family. 

In order to understand how to counter hate, one needs to understand the anatomy of a hater. And in order to illustrate this best, I need to share the topic of my recent therapy sessions with Dee. I need to share the truth about something that has been haunting me; something very dark. 

It's no secret that this recent miscarriage broke me, causing more damage than anyone could have predicted. The salt in the wound was the pregnancy announcements following the miscarriage. I found myself able to be at peace with the announcement from Grey's close friend. He had no idea our struggles nor of the previous loss. The announcement from BIL has been harder. BIL knew about our struggles. BIL knew about our pain. Yet when news came in April that we had lost our children, he didn't call for two weeks. And when he did, it was to share the news that they were expecting again. Meaning they decided to trying during the same time we were actively in treatment.  And though I believe that no one should put family planning on hold because of others, this was a huge blow. Because now I will have a niece/nephew who will be a reminder of what could have been.

So how does this example relate to someone filled with hate? Well, hate is breed from pain and fear. Most anti-adoption advocates have had something happen related to adoption to be so bitter with the process. Some may have been forced by family and religious officials to give up their children and during the process, they may not have been able to properly say good-bye nor process the emotions surrounding this decision. Others may see themselves as victims for losing custody of their children, refusing to analyze why the state decided to terminate their parental rights and pull the children. And then there's the adopted children who may not have been able to attach with their adoptive parents, resulting in them romanticizing their birthparents. You get the picture. The point is, there is pain and fear from loss. 

The truth is, like these haters, I now have the elements to hate my BIL and his wife. If I chose, I could easily develop arguments painting them as selfish and conniving beings. But what stops me is this hate will isn't productive and is actually very destructive. What is to be gained from villainizing this couple or those that can conceive easily? This hatred will not bring my children back. In fact, going this route turns me into a person my children would be ashamed of. 

And that's where I struggle to be different from someone who hates. A hater has been wounded, but they never find peace. They refuse to forgive, assuming that forgiveness absolves the offending party of the pain they afflicted. And, as time goes on, they expand their hate. They blame everyone who questions them for their fear and pain. Because it's easier. It's so much easier than confronting yourself and making the decision to move beyond the pain. It's easier to hide than to chose to live.

What this journey towards our children has taught me is that easier is not always better. Thank the universe for Dee. We've already spent three sessions with my anger over this news mixed in with my grief of losing both these pregnancies. And we likely will spend many more sessions. Honestly, healing will take time and the pain will probably never go away completely. But I work daily towards peace and forgiveness. 

So, knowing this, how do you counter hate? Some argue that love is the best solution. This can work, but wrapping people who are hardened with hate in love usually isn't enough. What I've been trying is love and information. To apologize to those who are so angry for being wronged and then to counter with examples of why they are incorrect. Honestly, the best responses I've gotten has been silence and/or the hater turning tail. Not once have I witnessed them resolving their pain or being willing to admit that maybe they are wrong. Still, I have to try. It's all I can do to resist the urge of slapping some sense into them.

In the end, I'm still learning. I'm learning to deal with haters, learning how to counter their poison. I'm also learning to forgive those who cause me great pain. But, for me, understanding the anatomy of a hater has made it easier to confront haters as well as to find peace. It reveals that these monsters are human. Scared, hurt humans who have allowed their hearts to be poisoned. It doesn't mean they are any less dangerous, but it does mean that if one choses they can be cured.  

Behold the dragon

Dragons. Webster's dictionary defines them as "mythical animal usually represented as a monstrous winged and scaly serpent or saurian with a crested head and enormous claws." The Chinese view dragons as symbols of strength, power and good luck. Referring to someone as a "dragon" is the ultimate in compliments, indicating that this person is outstanding and excels. But Dragons are also viewed in a negative light. European cultures view dragons as villainous reptiles who reek havoc and destruction. To encounter a dragon is the ultimate test in strength and survival, as these creatures are also cunning. It is fitting that these creatures are seen as a symbol of change.


This past Friday, I met with Dee to begin a series of painful therapy sessions. I'll write more in the near future about what we've been doing and provide an update. Prior to the session, though, we talked more about adoption and I began hitting her with a number of naive questions regarding starting the process, finding agencies, etc. Smiling, she proceeded to hand me two books to provide some basic information. The first one is called "Adoption After Infertility," by Patricia Irwin Johnston. Though an older book, Dee thought it would be a good place to start.


Following my meltdown after the adoption information meeting on Saturday, I picked up the book and began to read. The first section called the "Challenge of Infertility" opened with the metaphor of the dragon. As I read, I found myself nodding along with many of the observations from the author. Starting with the idea that people who are quick to throw adoption out as a viable alternative are usually the same who would not even consider taking a similar route. The fact that most people view the road to parenthood as a pretty pleasant and defined path: have sex, get a positive pregnancy test and 9 months later you're congratulating one another on the ability to pass on your genes. That infertility is really an uncharted territory for most, an unspeakable fear that many would prefer to ignore.


What struck me most in the first chapter was the statement by the author that infertility is not simply one loss. It involves multiple losses: 
1) Loss of control over many aspects of life 
2) Loss of one's genetic continuity linking past and future
3) Loss of joint conception of a child with one's life partner
4) Loss of the physical sensation of pregnancy and birth
5) Loss of the emotional gratifications of pregnancy and birth
and finally
6) Loss of the opportunity to parent


Infertility robs us of all of this. With the help of modern medicine, those who undergo treatment have the opportunity to regain all of these. But what if treatment fails? What about those of us who come to the end of the road for this part of the journey, finding that our arms are still empty? Adoption is most certainly a road to recover the last opportunity, but it's far from an easy journey.


I've been struggling a lot with all these losses recently. Struggling with the fact that the future is still very unclear. This Mother's Day was particularly hard, as I spent it as a bereaved mother, painfully aware of what milestones I would be checking off for both of my pregnancies if they had stuck. So like any animal in pain, I've been lashing out. In my head, I reasoned that Grey would be better off without me, giving him the ability to find a life partner who could give him children and ultimately happiness. I was pushing him away. 


Something happened, though. Something that was completely unexpected. After a particularly painful lash, I picked up Ms. Johnston's book and read a story about a woman who survived infertility, who resolved through adoption. Yet despite her happiness, she spent years mourning her body, which had failed her. Like me, she felt guilty that her husband suck beside her, reasoning that she was holding him back from a more fulfilling life. One day, this woman attended a RESOLVE conference and hear a male therapist talk about how men grieve differently from women. Following the talk, she went home to talk to her husband, asking him to share his thoughts. The conversation startled her, leading to a message that could not have been more self esteem enhancing or important to their marriage. The husband told his wife how carefully he had thought through all those offers and threats of divorce from the years before and how frightening they had been for him. That what he wanted (telling her from the ten-thousandth time, but which she had failed to hear) was not fertility, but her. That the thought of losing his wife, their relationship, their life together was more terrifying than the thought of losing his ability to have biological children.


A moment later, Grey came and sat be me, repeating pretty much the same thing. For the first time, I actually heard what he was saying. And in my heart, I knew I felt the same. That if the chose was a life with Grey and infertility or a life without Grey and fertility, I would chose Grey. 


Mother's Day was spent in the mountains, reflecting on this conversation as well as what I had been reading. As Grey and I hiked into the wilderness, I thought about how the Chinese written expression of "crisis," which contains the characters of two different words: danger and opportunity. 

Image from http://www.chinese-symbols.com/

Infertility is most certainly a crisis, filled with the danger of loss on so many levels. But what I realized while passing the families with small children on the trail was that infertility is also an opportunity. Grey and I have developed communication skills for that enable us to move swiftly through dangerous situations. Time and again, I witness couples on the trail where those communication skill did not exist, leading to potentially dangerous situations. There are many other things that came to mind during the hike, hard-won gifts that we never would have discovered if not for this experience; gifts that we are still learning about. 


Tonight, I am preparing for our next confrontation with our dragons. The dragrons that are dangerous: those of fear, loss, grief and pain. But also the dragons of opportunity. From the time they were conceived, we've referred to our embryos as dragons, as they were meant to be our baby born during the Year of the Dragon. With only four (4) left, that wish may no longer be a reality, but they may instead be the key to the door leading to our children, children who we will be united in the future. A bittersweet thought, but one that I hold on tightly to. 

Body Issues

My senior year in high school, I took an AP Literature/Composition class. For those of you not familiar with these courses, it's a way for high school students to receive college credit without every having to leave the comfort of their surroundings. One of the assignments was to dissect a poem, analyzing the writers intention and the pattern.

At the tender age of 17 yrs, I picked Andrew Marvell's "A Dialogue Between the Soul and Body."

A DIALOGUE BETWEEN THE SOUL

AND BODY

By A. Marvell

Soul.                                                               Body.

O, WHO shall from this dungeon raise          O, who shall me deliver whole,

A soul enslaved so many ways?                     From bonds of this tyrannic soul?

With bolts of bones, that fettered stands         Which, stretched upright, impales me so

In feet, and manacled in hands;                       That mine own precipice I go;

Here blinded with an eye, and there                And warms and moves this needless frame,

Deaf with the drumming of an ear;                 (A fever could but do the same),

A soul hung up, as 'twere, in chains                And, wanting where its spite to try,

Of nerves, and arteries, and veins;                   Has made me live to let me die

Tortured, besides each other part,                    A body that could never rest,

In a vain head, and double heart?                     Since this ill spirit it possessed.

Soul.                                                               Body.

What magic could me thus confine                But Physic yet could never reach
Within another's grief to pine?                       The maladies thou me dost teach;

Where, whatsoever it complain,                     Whom first the cramp of hope does tear,
I feel, that cannot feel, the pain;                     And then the palsy shakes of fear;

And all my care itself employs,                      The pestilence of love does heat,

That to preserve which me destroys;              Or hatred's hidden ulcer eat;

Constrained not only to endure                       Joy's cheerful madness does perplex,

Diseases, but, what's worse, the cure;             Or sorrow's other madness vex;

And, ready oft the port to gain,                       Which knowledge forces me to know,

Am shipwrecked into health again.                 And memory will not forego;

                                                                         What but a soul could have the wit

                                                                          To build me up for sin so fit?

                                                                          So architects do square and hew

                                                                          Green trees that in the forest grew.

At the time, though the poem fascinated me, I didn't understand it. I misinterpreted it, trying to make it about something it wasn't. And for years, though I remembered it, I was at a loss for it's meaning.

After 2.5 yrs of living with infertility and living through two miscarriages, I think I'm finally beginning to understand Mr Marvell's message.

Lossing this pregnancy has broken me. It's left me in doubt and frightened to move forward. But most of all, I've found that I'm angry. Angry with many things. But mainly, angry with my body. I'm angry that it has let me down, let Grey down and is not doing what it was designed for. I'm angry that it failed my children, not providing the home they needed to be able to grow and come into the world.

The thing is, I know if I'm going to move forward I have to confront this anger. I have to learn to trust my body again. So, this past week has been spent with me trying to resolve these issues by having a dialogue with my own body.

So far, I haven't been successful.

Unlike other situations where I would have nursed my body back to health, I instead spent this time nursing my soul. My worked longer hours to distract myself, ignoring my body's request for water and food. I started running again, despite the cramps. And when I plead with my body for some relief from the bleeding, promising it relaxation and warmth, it hit back with uterine pain and more spotting.

The reality is, my body and I are currently in dangerous territory. If we could be physically separated, we'd be sleeping in separate rooms and talking with divorce lawyers. And I'm at a loss for how to fix this.

Because I want to be able to experience pregnancy, to bear Grey's child. I want the ability to be a vessel for life. But I think my body has other plans.

Choices

In the spring of 2007, I took my general exam. For those of you not familiar with the PhD process, most programs have a comprehensive assessment for their students to determine whether they have the knowledge base in order to proceed with their thesis and ultimately obtain their doctorate. Each institution and program is different in format and how/when this is administered, but the feeling of anxiety from the students is the same. I spent 2 months preparing for this exam, meeting with committee members and spending multiple hours in the library. On the day of the exam, though, I froze. My mind went completely blank and I found I had difficulty answering some of the most basic questions.

Somehow I passed. But the trauma from that experience, coupled with a poor sense of self, resulted in 1 1/2 yr slump where I was convinced that I would be asked to leave. Add in the fact that my project wasn't working, and I was one depressed and anxious graduate student.

In the middle of my fourth year, something changed. I decided to stop wallowing in a place of self-doubt and start taking what I wanted. I figured they now knew the impostor in their midst, might as well make the most of it. With the help of my advisor,  I switched projects and began working on a question that would ultimately lead to a publication and lay the groundwork for post-doctoral interests. I made choices to no longer isolate myself and began attending journal clubs, signed up for Toastmasters to improve on my public speaking skills and made a conscious choice to spend Saturdays with friends. What I realized was that though graduate school was a trying time, my outlook was making it worse. That I was the one holding myself back and, though there were still moments that were painful, I had to chose to move forward and demand what I wanted if I was to triumph.

The events of the past week have been the stuff of nightmares. Surrounded by beauty and signs of spring, Grey and I received the news that my body had failed our embies on Sunday. Grey and I have done our share of crying over this loss, wondering aloud why this is happening; what we did to deserve this type of pain. Honestly, we're no closer to those answers.

But something changed yesterday. Unlike January, where we were both defeated, the news of this loss has only deepen our resolve to be parents. We've decided that we both want this so much that no matter what, it's going to happen. We made the decision that, like it or not, the universe will give us our children.

In other words, we're done wallowing in the despair caused by infertility. Now we're fighting back.

Yesterday, after sleeping for a few hours, we talked about a plan. Adoption is still something we both want to pursue. But Grey wants to try one more time. He's not ready to give up on the 4 snowbabies we have left. And I'm willing to try given that our REs agree to investigating the cause for both of these miscarriages. I'm no longer willing to fly blind on the basis of "bad luck" and I've begun pulling literature from PubMed to discuss with Grey and hopefully with our REs.  In addition, we started pulling out the literature we have on adoption and made note of the different meetings from the agencies in our area.

We meet with Dr. Optimism on Friday in hopes of formulating a plan. IVF is diagnostic, and we now know where we are failing. Because of this, I want to know what we can do to investigate these causes, as now we have a pattern. Some of you have asked if I'm considering getting a second opinion. Honestly, I don't know at the moment. Both Grey and I have grown to trust this clinic, this team of care providers, and we want to speak with them about all of this prior to making any decisions. In addition, we've heard less-than-stellar stories about other clinics in this area, so seeking a second opinion may involve looking nationally. We'll know more following the meeting.

What would be helpful, though, is suggestions on testing to ask about. I'm unfamiliar with RPL panels or types of immune testing. We will be talking about karyotyping for both Grey and me.

I'm not going to lie, all of this is hard. And the temptation to curl up into a small ball is very high. But I know that's not going to change things, to help us bring home our children. I will grieve for my lost children, forever associating them with the cherry blossoms. But I'm no longer willing to be a victim to infertility. Instead, I chose to face this tragedy and fight. Fight for my family, fight for those I love who are also living this nightmare. I'm determined that this journey will not have been in vain, that something good will come out of it.

Thank you all for your comments and love yesterday. They have been and continue to be a source of strength during this time. There are no words to express our gratitude.

I'll end today with a scene from the musical "Across the Universe" that is now our battle anthem.

The untelling

How does one find the strength to go on in the midst of so much pain? When life is so hard?

HcG levels dropped from 8225 on Friday to 1293. Diagnosis is complete miscarriage. My body has killed my babies.

We're both in shock from the destruction from this storm. But the numbness will wear off soon and we will once again be left with our grief.

For now, all I want is sleep.