It's funny, as a woman with children 18 months apart most of the world assumes I know nothing about about struggling to conceive.
The other day I met someone with sons 2.5 years apart, and I told her mine were 1.5 years apart. She told me that's what she and her husband were going for but that it doesn't always happen the way you plan. I wanted to say, "It doesn't happen the way you plan is the theme of how both of my children came to be!" I smiled and nodded, and she probably assumed like the rest of the world that I had no clue.
I don't mind this.
In a lot of ways I consider myself "fixed" though I will openly admit that I don't plan on testing out that theory any time remotely soon!
But the reason I hardly ever identify myself as a woman who struggled with infertility is because there is a doubly happy ending to my story. Yes, I went through hell and back and did things most people never have to do in their lifetime but it gave me healthy children, and they are my rewards.
A few weeks ago Brian and I paid rent on our embryos. I cried a lot for a couple days following. Many days I think I'm done having children but my attachment to my embryos, while impossible to explain, is extremely real. Right before getting their "rent" bill I debated giving them up for adoption. But I'm not ready. Neither is Brian. I sometimes think about the day when I'll give my babies away, and I just cry. I hope when that day comes that I feel ready and am able to focus on the positive that will come from helping a couple in need.
I digress.
I'm getting very far off what I actually wanted to do with this blog entry but I guess I've had a few things on my mind that I needed to get out.
In honor of national infertility awareness week, I'm sharing the story of Hartley's transfer day. I actually wrote this in a voice to Hartley the other day. Here it goes:
Hartley,
I want to start your story the day I met you. You came into our lives in a very special way - via in vitro fertilization (IVF). "In vitro" means "in glass" because your earliest days of life were spent growing in a glass dish in a laboratory. Once you grew to a 5 day old embryo you were transferred back inside of me to continue growing.
I'll never forget that day. Your dad and I nervously made our way back to a special room at the doctor's office. It was literally right next to the lab in which you were grown and residing. I will spare you the graphic details but I will always remember funny, small things from that day. I remember your dad fumbling trying to get his sterile surgical booties over his giant tennis shoes before we entered the room. I remember vividly the mixture of nerves and excitement we both had. I remember the embryologist shaking my hand and telling me they picked out a beautiful, healthy embryo. I remember gazing up at this poster of a Parisian street they had taped to the ceiling. It seemed so funny and awkward just taped up there to try to take your mind off things.
I remember how everything was done so, so fast. They literally ran from the lab into the room and transferred you within seconds. They showed me on a screen, and I couldn't believe my eyes. In hindsight, that is the most miraculous thing I have ever gotten to watch.
Most of all I will always remember they handed me a black and white picture of you as this perfect collection of cells. In that moment, my heart was all in.
The doctor said, "hopefully that's the very first picture of your baby".
The entire time I was in that room I prayed like I've never prayed before.
A group of doctors and nurses wished us luck as we walked out.
The entire car ride home from Arlington to Reston I stared at your picture. I wondered if you were a boy or a girl, and as the question entered my mind I told God I didn't care. I asked him just to let you grow and be mine. I remember silently pleading to God: "please, please, please let this be my baby. I promise if you do I will be the best mother".
This was the Friday going into Memorial Day 2013. I had plans to go to a cookout but we opted to lay low. My intuition was to lay around and relax so I followed it.
I kept your picture in my nightstand and easily looked at it over a hundred times. I hope, prayed and cried when I thought of you growing.
It may be cliche to say but it is so true - I loved you so much before you were even born. There is nothing in this world that I have ever wanted more. And someone heard every single wish and prayer because I would find out on June 1, 2013 that I was pregnant!
What I wrote is definitely a teeny sliver of the IVF process, and quite frankly, the easiest part. Women who battle infertility are warriors! 9 months of pregnancy and childbirth are hard enough as is, and these women are doing so much before that part even begins. From investing every piece of your heart and soul to injecting yourself multiple times a day for weeks and undergoing surgery - it is a battle like no other.
But for those of us lucky enough to have a happy ending, I will say it over and over again - my children were and are incredibly worth it.
(**Patrick, while conceived "the old fashioned way", I consider a happy surprise byproduct of my treatment & pregnancy with Hartley. This is why I say "children")
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