Giving Up. But Not Really.

(You guys crack me up with how many of you are just as uptight about the spelling as I am. Of course, no-one is going to believe that I take my spelling very, very seriously, when I continue to have as many typos in these posts! Viola? What the heck?? I didn’t catch it, and my spell-check didn’t catch it, since technically, it is a correctly-spelled word. Just not the one I wanted. Thanks for keeping me honest!

Thanks, also, for humoring me through these gargantuan length entries lately. I feel like I’ve been going on for days and days, and well, technically I guess I have. Believe it or not, I’m keeping each journal entry as short as possible. It’s just difficult for someone as long-winded as me to condense years and years' worth of fertility and adoption struggles into a few paragraphs. But I promise … the end is in sight!)

OK, we started trying to get pregnant in spring of 1991. We applied to the adoption agency in February of 1994. My nephew was born the day after our first IVF attempt failed, in November of 1995. So, by my calculations (which good Lord, let’s hope they’re more accurate than my spelling!) we’d been trying for four and a half years. Although putting all our eggs in one basket (excuse the pun) with IVF hadn’t proved successful, we figured we owed it to ourselves to try again, if there was any way possible.

That’s the thing about fertility treatments. Just like “a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step”, that journey ENDS with a single step as well. One successful step, and you’ll have placed yourself right across the finish line. And despite getting negative pregnancy tests month after month, year after year, you want so much to believe that if you give it just ONE MORE TRY, it will work. I mean, what if fate decreed that the **next** fertility treatment is the one that would have worked, and you had quit? How can you just give up, when the next one could very well be the one that was meant to be successful? You don’t want to spend the rest of your life regretting that you gave up too early, and always wondering "what if?". I’ve never been addicted to alcohol or drugs, so I’m not sure that’s a good comparison, but like an addict, I found myself scrambling for ways to justify another procedure. Just one, just one, that’s all we’ll need. And really, who were we hurting? It’s not like anyone was suffering due to our obsession with getting a baby.

Well, yes, our savings account had been wiped out several times. I mean, we started this process when we were in our mid-twenties, so it's not like our life savings was that big to begin with. My faith in the system was shaken. I no longer believed in the concept of fairness. My self-esteem had taken quite a beating. And sure, if you want to get technical, my outlook on life had deteriorated to the point I was a soul-sucking miserable hag who couldn’t find happiness in anything, and whenever friends and family saw me, they ran shrieking the other direction for fear I would release my wrath upon them …. But whatever! Let’s just keep trying! Because we’re not hurting anybody!

So we scraped every spare penny we had ---AGAIN --- and tried for a second time three months later. This time, we went with ZIFT: Zygote Intrafallopian Transfer. ZIFT is an assisted reproductive procedure similar to in vitro fertilization and embryo transfer with the difference being that the fertilized embryos are transferred into the fallopian tube instead of the uterus. So basically, I was stimulated and monitored just the same …. And the eggs were harvested just the same …. And Blaine did his part just the same ….. and a few days later I went back for the second half of the procedure just the same ….. and I continued with my progesterone injections just the same ….. and took a blood test just the same ....

And two weeks later we got a call from the IVF nurse that it was unsuccessful …. Just the same.

And can you believe that we still weren’t ready to give up? One more time, one more time … that’s all we need. You really, truly, seriously convince yourself that it’s true. So, we continued putting every spare cent away to save for another attempt. Who cared that we were nearing our 30’s and didn’t have a dime in savings? Who cared that I worked full-time, just so my entire paycheck could go into our baby fund each week? Who cared that if we ever DID get a baby, there wouldn’t be any money to send him or her to college?

Besides the fertility stuff, though, other things were happening in our life. We’d been at Tinker almost three years, and heaven forbid Uncle Sam let you stay anywhere that long. Orders came through for us to move that summer to Los Angeles. And being the optimist information-freak that I am, I had already started researching fertility clinics out there. And can you believe that I found one that offered a money-back guarantee?

I know, I know, I’m harping an awful lot about money. I’ve always considered it rude to talk about money, and crass, and normally I avoid those types of discussions at all cost … {hee hee, “cost” … get it?} But the financial strain for a couple undergoing fertility treatment can be high. Unless you’re lucky enough to have insurance coverage that considers infertility a medical disease, you’re most likely not going to get a lot of help from your provider. Fertility treatments are usually considered “elective”, like cosmetic surgery. So if you want ‘em, you pay for ‘em. And by our estimation, we had spent approximately $25,000 in the past two years. And, did I mention, just in case it wasn't clear, that we didn’t have a baby???

Then I discovered the fertility clinic in Los Angeles that offered a money-back guarantee. They charged a lot more for their services, but if you did IVF three times and none of them worked, you got 75% of your money back. Their reasoning was that the couples, for whom it DID work, by paying more, would make up the difference for the couples it DIDN’T work for. It’s actually very logical, and compassionate, and fair. It gave me hope.

So we decided to try one more time in Oklahoma, and then if it didn’t work, consider starting up again in California. Although as much as I wanted kids, I dreaded the thought of starting over, from scratch, with another clinic. Another part of me, to be honest, was starting to consider the possibility that maybe we weren’t going to have kids. And I started talking to myself about the fact that although being childless wouldn’t be my first choice, if it happened, you know what? It wouldn’t be the end of the world. In fact, there might even be some positives. Not having to replenish the college fund. Not having to consider school districts anytime we moved. Not having to plan vacations around school schedules. The ability to pick up and go, whenever and wherever we wanted.

In fact, the more I thought about it, the better it sounded. Don’t get me wrong, I still wanted kids. More than anything in the world. But the fight had just gone out of me. I was pooped.

So one night, preparing to write yet *another* check to our fertility clinic, to try yet **another** round of IVF, I looked at Blaine ---- He looked at me ---- “Fuck it” we both said. "We’ll start again in California. "

For now??

We took that money and went to England.



In front of the British Museum. *Really* cool stuff in there. Please overlook the unfortunate leather jacket with lots of belts and zippers. It was the mid-90's and I still thought the biker look was cool. Hence the ankle boots as well.



In front of 13th-century Salisbury Cathedral; the tallest spire in England. The letterman's jacket? Almost as unfortunate a choice as the biker jacket. But it was freezing-ass cold in that country!!



Took a bus trip to Scotland. Here, at the beginning of the Royal Mile in Edinburgh. My only comment about Blaine's jacket is that sadly, he was still wearing it up until last year. Partly I blame the fact he wears a military uniform, complete with military jacket, to work every day, so there's no real need to buy new clothes on a regular basis. Party I blame the fact that he and I are socially-fashionably-inept.


Well-meaning friends said, “You are SO going to come back from your trip pregnant! Giving up …. relaxing … resting …. taking a break …. taking a vacation ….. works every time!”

They were right about a few things. It was a great vacation. We relaxed. We rested. We saw some amazing things, and some breathtaking country ... Stonehenge, anyone? We returned home refreshed and rejuvanated.

But not pregnant.

And now it was time to move to California. And start over at Square One with a new doctor.

Blaine: “Oh good grief, I am putting my foot down about the cup this time!”