Guest Blogger: Tori's Story

I am humbled and honored to introduce Tori Fisher as my very first guest blogger.  Tori enthusiastically accepted my request for her to share her story with you as she bravely continues to try to conceive her first child.  I had the honor of meeting Tori through a friend of my husband's via Facebook.  As I sat with Tori over coffee and listened to her tell her story, I heard echoes of the same feelings, emotions, difficulties, and Hopes that I knew so well.  I am lucky to count Tori among the friends I have made as a result of this battle with infertility.  I have said it before, and I will say it again - meeting people like Tori and bonding with them over our common source of suffering has been the most important Silver Lining in this situation.  Beautiful things come from great tragedy and getting to know Tori has been one of the most beautiful.  Please join me in warmly welcoming Tori to this blog and thank you for reading Tori's story.  I hope you get as much inspiration from her infectious positivity, enduring Hope, and encouraging words as I have. 

  Tori's Story

 

My husband and I had been together for six years when we finally got married June 2012. Shortly after getting married the questions started “When do you two plan on trying for a kid?”. What seemed like such a simple question soon began to be a dagger to the heart.  

I went for a normal woman checkup and during my appointment I brought up that my husband and I had been trying to conceive for almost a year. She told me that it was in my best interest to get tested. I signed up for the HCG test and did the hormone level blood work checkup. All the tests came back normal. She then wrote up orders for my husband to get his sperm checked. He took the sperm analysis test twice, the first one the numbers were everywhere and the second test told us exactly what we thought the problem was. He went to a Urologist and found out he had low motility. He was put on a pill for six months. After the six months, nothing changed and we were still not successful. We were then referred to go to a fertility specialist. 

Fertility Specialist, sounds like a very scary name when you are so unfamiliar with what is going to happen or what the next step is going to be. I remember being so nervous and ready to faint when I walked in. All kinds of things ran through my head, “Is he going to tell us that we can never conceive”, “Are we going to have to do IUI or IVF”, “How much is it going to cost”, etc. I remember the day of appointment I researched the difference between IUI and IVF. I had my mind set that I wanted to IUI. I only had my mind set on this because it dealt with fewer needles than the IVF. I’m such a baby when it comes to needles.  

The doctor comes to get us and we walk into the consultation room. We pull out all the results from all the tests we had performed. He looks over mine and nods that everything is good. He looks at my husbands and looks at the very bottom of the page and circles “morphology”. He said this is why you two have not been able to conceive. We look at him like he had 10 heads. What is morphology? What about his motility? Morphology is the form and structure of organisms and their specific structural features. Basically, sperm is made up of three parts; head, body, tail. Each part is supposed to be a certain length and look a certain way. The doctor confirmed that we only had a 1% chance to conceive on our own. I held back the tears as he looked us in the eyes and told us this. My heart dropped into my stomach. He said our best choice was to do IVF. I immediately told him that I wanted to do IUI. He explained that IUI would most likely not be successful because we needed help with picking the good sperm out from the bad sperm. During an IUI cycle, they do not do that and we would only have a 10% chance of conceiving. IVF was the correct route for us to be able to have a 75% chance of conceiving. We met with the financial counselor and went over the cost. We left the doctor’s office and when I got in the car I began bawling. “Why us?” “Why my husband?” 

I met a Ashley, who I learned went through IVF, and began talking to her on Facebook. She was a complete stranger to me and stayed up one night giving me all the details of her journey. From miscarriages to IUI to IVF, I heard it all. After hearing her story, I decided IVF is the way to go. My husband said “We might as well go for the GOLD if we are going to do it” He called it the GOLD because it was much more expensive.

So our journey began March 2014. I went in for my first appointment and had to get 13 vials of blood drawn. Yes this girl who is so scared of needles did it. I was so proud of myself and so was my husband. Next, we scheduled an appointment for a hysteroscopy. A hysteroscopy is a way for the doctor to look at your lining to make sure everything is healthy for a transfer. You are put to sleep during this procedure. I had to conquer the IV. I didn’t sleep the night before thinking about the procedure and most of all thinking about the IV. I cried before the IV was even in but I did it! It was just another accomplishment that I made during this long journey ahead. 

The next step in the process was to begin the shots to mature my eggs. It was ten long days of two shots in the stomach every night at the same time. It was ten long days that I thought were going to break me and make me give up. There were times I was really low during those 10 days but then there were times I was very positive. Each doctor appointment we received good news and it helped me stay positive. After the ten days, it was egg retrieval time. The most crucial time during the whole journey because with no eggs there is no transfer. We found out they retrieve 20 eggs but only 19 of them passed to be able to be fertilized. They fertilized 19 eggs and 16 eggs took. They watched the embryos grow for five days. After the fifth day, we had 13 great embryos. They were frozen and the chromosomes were tested. After the testing, we had 10 embryos that passed. We found out that we had 7 girls and 3 boys. I remember finding out all of this and telling my husband how lucky we were. Not everyone gets such big numbers. Our down times had to be reminded by the great news we’ve had.  

Shortly after the transfer, I started on Estrogen pills three times daily and Miniville patch that had to be changed every three days. The beginning of the medication started great but then I began to break out in a rash where the patch was. I found out that I was allergic to the adhesive on the patch and had to stop taking it. It didn’t slow the process down and my estrogen level did great. I was right on schedule for my first transfer. Six days before my transfer I started taking vaginal inserts to raise my progesterone level. 

My first transfer date was scheduled May 2014. We were so excited but yet very nervous. I kept asking myself “Why am I nervous?” I should be jumping with joy and super excited. After talking to others, they had the same emotions. My embryos thawed out great and the transfer went well. Now I had to wait two long weeks to find out if it worked. I worked long hours and kept my mind busy. It was so hard not go and buy a pregnancy test to see if I was pregnant.  

Testing day was finally here! I was so excited and very positive. I went into the doctor and got my blood drawn. We went to eat afterwards and spent the morning together until we received the phone call. The nurse called and said “Victoria, you are PREGNANT!” My husband began to cry and I was in shock. I think I had cried so much during the journey that I was running out of tears. I called my family and told them and they were all excited. Little did I know what was coming next…

The weekend came and I began to feel cramping and I started to spot a little. I told my mom and researched the vaginal inserts that I was on and a side effect was spotting. We ignored it and went on. The next day I began to bleed even more. I called the after hour clinic and went in for blood work. My blood came back great. All my levels were doubling which is what they are supposed to do. I went into my doctor that Monday for a follow up. They took blood and I told him what happened. He decided to do a vaginal ultrasound to see if he could see anything. It was too early to see a baby but he wanted to check my ovaries. He didn’t see anything unusual and told me to take it easy. Later that day, my blood results came in and I found out that I was having a miscarriage. My pregnancy level went from 1200 to 200. I was devastated. I never have been so hurt and upset in my life. The hardest part was calling to tell my husband. My mother picked me up from work and my husband came there to pick me up. We both cried so hard when we saw each other. He began blaming himself. I reassured him that it wasn’t his fault. 

As bad as I wanted to give up, I knew that I had come too far not to keep going. We took a few weeks off the medication. Shortly later, we started back on the estrogen and progesterone. We scheduled our next transfer for July 2014. This time I took two weeks off work and worked from home. I kept my feet propped up and took it easy. After the two weeks were up I went in for the blood test. It came back NEGATIVE. I was heartbroken all over again. Why? Why? I just didn’t understand and most of all, the doctor didn’t understand. He decided that we would do a procedure in office to check my lining again and this go around we would do progesterone shots instead of inserts. My lining looked great and he said I could start again when I was ready. I had a few other medical things going on that pushed back my third transfer. 

During all the heartaches of my journey, the doctor became not just my doctor but a friend. The nurses were not just nurses; they became friends and helped comfort my sadness. The nurses were the ones who kept pushing me through to continue through the journey and not give up. My friends, family, and coworkers stood beside me along the way too. I believe that I would have given up a long time ago if it wasn’t for my support system. They reminded me how long I’ve come and how strong I really was. When you get low, you seem to forget how far you’ve come. I can say that I’ve grown so much as a person, a wife, a daughter, a friend, a coworker, and as a mother. I still may not be a mother to a human being but I’m a mother at heart. I have faith that my day will come soon…until then I will continue to pray. Pray for the strength and guidance to keep pushing along and to never give up. 

Now we are waiting on our next transfer to be scheduled. I have high hopes and positive vibes. I know God has a plan and his plan is bigger and better than any plan that I’ve ever imagined. From one fertility struggler to another always remember “Never give up!” Speak freely about it and remember not to be embarrassed. The more you speak out about it the more you find that several people have been down the same journey. Everyone’s journey has a different twist but we all suffer from the same thing…wanting to conceive.



Coming Soon: Guest Bloggers Tell Their Stories

Everyone has a story. 

Our stories are who we are.  As a trainer at my job in Customer Service, I am always telling staff to pay attention to the stories, or potential stories, of those they are serving.  Dealing with people can be difficult because everyone reacts differently to what is going on in their lives.  It is easy to help someone who is pleasant and kind, but those who are Angry - they are the ones we need to try extra hard for.  Anger is often a reaction to Suffering.  I tell staff members, "If someone comes up to you and acts rude, attacks you verbally, or insults you and you do not know their story ... make one up."  My goal is to empower them to show compassion and kindness to even the most difficult customer because we all have a story - that angry person has a story, and they could be suffering. 

I'm always thinking about people's stories.  Then it hit me! What better way to expand this blog than to expand it beyond my own story.  Throughout my journey, I have made friends with, laughed with and cried with so many who have a story of their own to tell.  Each of our stories are all different with common threads, and I want to start sharing with you other people's stories to help comfort you and show you that you aren't alone. 

So starting this week, I will be featuring "Guest Bloggers" who I have asked to share their stories.  My hope is that you will feel the healing comfort of sharing your pain and suffering with others who have been in your shoes or similar shoes.  If you are reading this and wish to share your story, please email me at sweetwaterbrimmingover@yahoo.com. 

I look forward to sharing with you the wisdom, knowledge, compassion, kindness, and strength of others who have inspired me on my journey.   

Sadness is necessary ....

Have you ever heard of Ted Talks? I use them a lot in my training at work and subscribe to their email newsletters. I sat down today to watch this one that was in my inbox when I got to work. The timing of it was incredible, and I couldn't believe it when I reached the end of the 5 minute video. It was like it was made for my blog!

This blog is dedicated to the subject of suffering in the form of unsuccessfully trying to have a child. I have repeated over and over how the major lesson I have learned is that suffering in some form or fashion is inevitable and is, in fact, what makes us all human. It is the force that bonds us to one another if we allow ourselves to feel sadness and suffering rather than fight against it by denying our feelings, succumbing to society's expectation to "suck it up" or expressing anger instead of our true feelings of sorrow or grief. This video addresses that very notion emphasizing not only the naturalness of sorrow but the necessity of it.

I think the video speaks for itself, so I'll be quiet now and let you watch it. But those of you who are here because you are suffering, remember that you are not alone in your sadness. That all of us suffer sadness from time to time. Allow that sadness that inside your heart at this very moment to just overcome you for a moment. Just sit with it and let it be. Cry and explore the way your heart and body feel. Then imagine that everyone in the world is feeling the exact same way. Feel how that knowledge allows you to love others - even the most unpleasant of people - because you know that their actions are motivated by that profound sadness that you are feeling now. Then go forward armed with that knowledge and be a shoulder for them to cry on. Relate to them and watch the world become a little more gentle and a little sweeter.

RESOLVE to Give Voice: My Story

Some of you may have followed my blog for awhile, while some of you are new. I'm taking a moment today to share my story for those of you who are new to the blog and have come here seeking comfort, advice, or a perspective from someone who truly understands your situation.  In honor of RESOLVE's efforts to raise awareness about infertility in October, it is perfect timing to reflect back on the last 5 years or so and tell my story from a different perspective.

I say 5 years, I guess it really started back in about 2008 although it didn't really become super difficult emotionally until around the end of 2009 when we really started wondering if something was wrong. We just weren't getting pregnant! That was the worst of times. We had been married for almost 3 years, and people started asking the dreaded question, "When are ya'll gonna have babies?!" Just like that. No sugar coating it. I, to this day, do not understand why people ask, so openly, such a personal question. But alas, people are complicated creatures.

Finally, we broke down and sought the help of a fertility specialist. Between our initial consultation with him and our first appointment to begin treatment, a miracle happened! We became pregnant on our own. That was December 2010. December. My favorite month. My favorite time of year. A month for children. It was perfect.

Until it wasn't.

On December 23rd, after a day of Christmas Shopping with my Mom, I began to bleed. Being naïve, thinking there was something that could be done, Casey and I rushed to the ER. I remember the drive there and taking deep breath after deep breath to try to consciously calm my body. It amazes me, looking back, how I instinctively knew what I needed to do and how I needed to do it in order to prevent my body from panicking. I didn't know it. But I was already a Mother. I always had been. If only I could have convinced myself of that over the course of the next 3 years. That night in the ER, we saw our precious baby's heartbeat for the very first time. For a split second, it felt like a Christmas Miracle what we were seeing on that screen. The baby's heart was beating. It was fine. We were fine. I was sent home to rest and "see what happens." Over the course of the next 48 hours the bleeding and cramping worsened, and when I finally got in to see my Dr. the Monday following Christmas, the baby was gone. No heartbeat this time. Just a blank screen. He gave me Misoprostol to take to induce uterine contractions to "clean out" my uterus. I am thankful that no D&C was necessary, but will never forget the act of putting that tiny pill into my mouth. All the while, I was thinking, hoping, that there had been some mistake. And here I was taking a pill that could kill my baby. I stood in the shower and cried, and realized that I had to commit my first heartbreaking act of Motherhood and Just Let Go. I was devastated. And changed. Forever.

Over the course of the next three years, I suffered 2 more confirmed miscarriages (one that resulted from a fertility treatment), and I believe an additional one based on how my body felt, but there was never a confirmed pregnancy with that one. It was also in December, so who knows, I could have just been feeling echoes of my lost angel the December before. Those 3 years, I was at my lowest and, surprisingly, my highest moments in life. The lowest were low. I was angry. I hated every child and every pregnant woman. I isolated myself from friends and family to protect myself from any triggers or prying questions. I attacked people who didn't deserve it.

The high moments, though, those are the moments that I choose to focus on. During those 3 years, I grew more as a person, a human being, than I ever imagined possible. I learned about myself - that I was strong, resilient, kind, compassionate. That I chose my reaction to my situation and chose what I would do with it. I chose to help other people. I began talking openly about our struggles (maybe too openly at times). I wanted people to know that I was strong. And I was shocked by the number of people who opened up to me after I had told my story. I made lasting relationships with others as we bonded over our suffering. Suffering, I learned, is the ONE thing that makes us human and the ONE thing that glues us all together - if we choose to let it. That is when I started letting people - friends and family, enjoyment - laughter and happiness, and love - in my marriage and for all people, back into my life. Going into our IVF cycle in January of 2013, I was at my highest. I felt good about life and good about myself. I knew I was a Mother. A mother to all other people on Earth - just as every woman is because we are all born with love in our hearts. It is that love that causes us to Suffer and to Hurt, but it is also the one tool we have that can bring us out of the depths of despair.

Our IVF treatment worked. We were some of the lucky ones (I had many friends who weathered 3, 4, 5 cycles of IVF). We cautiously enjoyed our pregnancy and now call ourselves the blessed parents of a 9 month old (today!) little boy, Silas. He is forcing us to continue to grow as people and to change the way we identify ourselves from an infertile couple to parents. (That is a whole other blog post).

Being able to tell our story has been our saving grace. Looking beyond our own situation and seeing our suffering for what it was - a GIFT. A gift that allowed us to begin to look beyond ourselves and reach out to others in pain. It is my goal to continue to do this. To be a source of positive momentum in someone's life. People already have Hope inside them, even if they can't feel it from time to time, so I want to be a reminder of that everlasting Hope when they are hurting too badly to find it.

Thank you for taking the time to read my story. Love yourself and love others. And you will be okay.

It's not the end ....

I'm feeling very pensive today and wanted to sit down and have a cup of coffee with you. I didn't really know what to say and sometimes when I'm lacking inspiration (or just feeling super emotional), I get on the Quotes page on Pinterest and start reading stuff. So that's what I did.

I came across this graphic, and it made me start thinking about endings. So many times throughout our fertility journey, I said things to myself like, "I'll never get pregnant," "Another miscarriage, I give up," "That's it, I can't do this anymore," and the worst "We should just get a divorce so Casey can have children with someone else." I also said, "I'll be happy when this is over."

It makes me so sad to think back to those days and remember how I felt like every single failed cycle was The End. I wish I had seen this quote back then, but even if I had, it probably would not have helped (not much anyway).

If only I had been able to really believe in those desperate moments that everything would be okay and those events that I was seeing as "endings" were only, in fact, stepping stones to the real ending of our fertility struggle. I thought, at least. What I realize now, though, is that getting pregnant wasn't the end. Pregnancy brought about it's own set of stresses and difficulty, parenthood has done the same. As we continue our journey to expand our family, I have no doubt that we will face similar and different difficulties and failures. What I know now though, is that any difficulty we face means we are still living because to live is to suffer. Perfection does not exist and there will always be something to cope with. The sooner we accept our place in life, the better off we will be. For my whole life, I've strived for perfection. It is exhausting. I remember the moment during our fertility struggle that I finally just let go. For the first time in my life, I let go, and decided to just Let Life. I decided to just live my life take me with it wherever I was supposed to go. It is a comfort knowing that if I am still living, the opportunity for things to change, improve, or turnaround still exists. Life is not an effort to make everything be okay... instead it is just a journey to everything being okay. Just okay. And that is okay.

The Weight of Words

I am currently reading Ann Weisgarber's novel, The Promise. It is an historical novel taking place in Galveston, TX in the year 1900, the year of the Great Storm that destroyed most of the island. It is a story about a woman who leaves her home in Ohio for Galveston, not under ideal circumstances, to marry a man from her past whose wife has passed away from Malaria leaving him to care for their 5 year old son. In the novel, a woman named Nan Ogden keeps the home of the widower and looks after him and the boy. Much of the story surrounds the tense relationship between the protagonist and Miss Ogden. Their relationship is strained and unfriendly, but complex in that each of them understands the heart of the other woman and takes measures to uphold the dignity of the other more than once.

At one point in the novel, the protagonist realizes that Nan Ogden has desires in her heart that cannot be obtained. She recognizes the suffering in the other woman's eyes and begins to speak to assuage her pain. However, Miss Ogden interrupts cutting her off. It is then, that the protagonists understands, "Some things cannot bear the weight of words."

This line struck me as being such an obvious truth yet one that few people recognize. During our struggle to have a child, I often remarked on the words people would say and their "helpful" ways of speaking to try to fix pain that nothing could heal but time. One of the most important lessons I learned throughout our ordeal was that when someone is suffering, the best way to help them is to listen rather than speak. Words, so often, not only fall short, but end up rubbing the proverbial salt in an open and tender wound. I have learned to speak little in those instances that someone comes to me to talk about their pain.

It is often that I find myself struggling for words to write in a sympathy note when someone I know has lost a loved one. Especially after going suffering losses of my own, words never seem sufficient as I know that they will not only do no good, but could also have the potential to do more harm. I like Weisgarber's wisely and simply constructed statement that some things simply cannot bear the weight of words. It says, I understand. I am sorry. And I give you permission to feel your pain.

She asks ....

"Has God forgotten me," she asks.

I think how to answer this as I gaze at the toys strewn across my living room floor.

No, I think. He has not forgotten you. But it is not an answer I can give her. Because no matter how I answer this, she will feel forsaken.

There was a time when I felt her same desperation, hopelessness, invisibility, isolation, and unimportance. There was a time when I asked the very same question. And I must remember that now. Instead I tell her, "I am so very very sorry." It is all I can say, and the words seem so inadequate.

All I can do is all I have ever done. Ask God to please spare her any more pain. Hasn't she suffered enough? How many more tests can she endure? How much more can she give? How much pain can she stand? How tired can her body be? How occupied her mind? Please, please, hear my prayer. She is good. She is kind. She is giving. She loves. Don't break her. Don't take away the Hope and Innocence she has left. Don't strip her of the shred of dignity she maintains.

Hear her prayer. Heal her heart. Let her love. Fill her up. Soothe her pain.

I gaze again upon the beautiful mess of my home. With a small acknowledgement of thanks, I remember that her mess will come soon. I am humbled. I am reminded. I am her Hope when she has none left. I will continue to Hope for her. Lift her up. Remind her of her strength when she feels that she has none.

You are strong, my dear. You are blessed, my love. You are not forgotten, my sweet.

It is all I can do. And it is so little.