I am the no prego pro, infertility warrior, bunless oven, can't-make-a-baby veteran. It has taken six years and tens of thousands of dollars to achieve this distinction, and more specifically, 1,611 prenatal vitamins, 78 fertility drug injections, 55 ovulation detection tests, 40 blood draws, 33 ultrasounds, 16 pregnancy tests, and 11 embryos to confirm it. Still, throughout this not-so-fun numbers game (I always thought that procreating was supposed to be much, much more enjoyable), I have tried very hard to look at the lighter side of our struggles to conceive: Betting to see whose sperm count is higher and performing a strip tease in a hospital room are not things that I ever thought I'd be part of, yet here I am, willing to disclose the details of some very intimate incidents. Whether a couple needs two tries to get pregnant or two hundred, most can relate to calculating menstrual cycles and trying to decipher ovulation test sticks. And there can be plenty of funny incidents and awkward and absurd moments along the way, whether trying to get sperm to meet egg involves candlelight and Barry White or Petri dishes and blastocytes. The Inadequate Conception tells the author's and others' real-life stories of trying to find two blue lines on a pregnancy test.
The Inadequate Conception
From Barry White to Blastocytes: What your mom didn't tell you about getting pregnantBy Lori Green LeRoyAuthorHouse
Copyright © 2010 Lori Green LeRoy
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4520-8079-6Chapter One
No Baby on Board
I've found that once a woman hits the magic age of thirty, everyone seems to assume that she has children. First, they'll intrude into your personal life and ask you how long you've been married, and then the next question is: "How many kids do you have?" I've been married for more than thirteen years and there are zero kids (well, when you resort to calling your dog and three cats your children it might be a sign that you're longing for the human version—and perhaps having that many four-legged creatures living in your house is a sign of your desire to parent, or that you're bordering on being considered crazy cat people).
Let's think about that for a minute. If you've been married for that long and you don't have kids yet, one of two things is probably the case: Either you and your spouse have decided not to have any children, which is no one's business but your own, or (and even worse to have to answer a question about) you're having fertility challenges. Neither of these options is at the top of my list of fun conversation topics or ones that I feel like disclosing details of, particularly with strangers. While most of the time I try to smile politely and say something like "no, not yet," in my mind, I'm usually thinking something like: "We don't have kids because we're obviously not doing it right. Think you could give us some pointers?" Or, "We're proponents of zero population growth. It's our version of being green." Other answers that fit the bill include: "We've decided to raise chinchillas instead. They're just as cute as kids." And "Actually, I'd rather you answer my ultra-personal question first. Now, how did you get three chins?"
I am reminded of my infertility in the oddest places. Sure, going to church, the park, or anywhere else a kid might be pushed in a stroller can be tough, but what about places where you don't typically think about infertility such as a dentist's office. For no less than five years, my dental record has shown that I'm "trying to get pregnant," and at every six-month visit, I am inevitably asked, "Is there a chance you're pregnant? Do we need to use the iron apron before we take x-rays of your teeth?" With a complete look of disdain, I usually just sigh and say no. You'd think after giving the same answer ten times they'd just give up. After all, I practically have.
And, unfortunately, I'm not alone ...
Jennifer, a colleague who waited seven years to have children after getting married said, "I knew it was bad when my dad was telling me that I needed to pay attention to my cycle in order to get pregnant."
My friend Sarah came back from a family reunion and said that she wished she'd stapled a sign on her forehead giving the details of her fertility plans. "I've been trying to get pregnant by extraordinary means for twelve months, so I hope you'll understand that my response will be curt," or "Please don't ask me why I've been married for six years and don't have any children yet." She pondered why her cousin (twice removed) felt it's her business to pry anyway.
"Then they were bringing my mom, who knows all about the challenges we've had, into the mix, asking her when she was going to have some more grandchildren." In a condescending tone, one aunt asked why Sarah didn't have children yet and she replied in an equally, if not more condescending voice, "Well, it's not as easy for some of us as it is for others." Stick that in your hot dog and eat it, Aunt Rita.
It's one of those times when you feel like being a complete child for a moment and sticking your tongue out when she turns her back. Gee, thanks for bringing up that very painful and difficult subject. It's hard enough being at a family reunion where your eighteen-year-old cousin, who apparently can reproduce without even having sex, is there with her two grubby-mouthed, rug rat kids, with names like Chartreuse and Jahosephet, rubbing it in your face.
Actually, Sarah and I once discussed the benefits of having custom T-shirts or business cards printed with the history of our family planning in order to avoid all of the questions. "Thank you for asking. Now, if you'll just take a quick read you'll be up to speed." I have even caught myself telling a few people to go to my blog, which details our fertility struggles, in order to dodge the painful task of having to tell all the gory details of my inability to get pregnant.
Even the woman that cleans my house was giving me sympathy for not getting pregnant. She gave me a hug one day when I came home from work after seeing the negative result on the pregnancy test pee stick when she was emptying my trash. Clearly there are no secrets in our household!
What Did I Do Wrong?
When you don't get pregnant as quickly as you expected (and even more so when a doctor confirms an issue with infertility), you start to obsess, I mean, second guess yourself and wonder if there was something you did to affect the outcome.
In my case, I have several theories about why my uteri have remained empty. One theory is that I've stood too close to the microwave. I read that a researcher conducted a study to see if the electromagnetic waves might have an adverse effect on fertility (of course, that hasn't stopped millions of other microwave users from getting pregnant), but I do have a tendency to dwell on even the most remote infertility-induced cause. I'm not a "real" cook; therefore, I have used the microwave at least once a day for the last fourteen or fifteen years. Microwave, have you failed me? Did your electromagnetic radiation damage my eggs or ovaries?
Perhaps it was the years of playing volleyball in high school and college, diving after balls and crushing my pelvic region on the hardwood floor, jostling and flattening my poor ovaries or uterus to the point of no conception.
Oh, I bet it was coffee. I've heard caffeine can have an adverse effect on fertility. I've been pouring java into my body for more than half my life. I started drinking coffee my junior year of high school, so I can blame my first period chemistry class and my incredibly boring teacher for all of this.
I also wonder if being on birth control pills for nine or ten years had anything to do with it. Perhaps my body has gotten used to avoiding conception so much that it has completely forgotten how to get pregnant. Hmmm ... how do I remind my uterus of what it's supposed to do? Talking to it hasn't worked thus far, and neither have hormone injections or any other fertility drugs for that matter.
Chapter Two
The Preparation: Don't Drink, Don't Smoke. What Do You Do?
Today we prepare our hopeful houses for a baby months in advance, reading books like A Healthy Body, Healthy Pregnancy, and Taking Charge of Your Fertility. There's a whole regimen that includes exercising to increase blood flow (it helps with your sex drive, too); taking prenatal vitamins; trying to drop one dress size (since we'll happily be gaining it back within a few months); cutting back on or cutting out alcohol, caffeine, and sweets; and doing yoga to de-stress our minds and bodies. And heaven knows you should not, under any circumstances, clean out the litter box! Times have changed. Just a generation ago, moms-to-be were...
