Hope sells

I start with my first Lupron injection on Tuesday. I feel like I am grieving before this cycle has even begun. I started reading a blog called Silent Sorority yesterday. It feels good to validate all these emotions. In a world of message boards, media headlines, and innocent well-wishers all focused on hope and the success of others, there is very little discussion about the bitterness of hope betrayed and being childless in a society so caught up in baby bumps and pudgy cheeks. And the grief. They don’t talk about the grief and mourning for each failed cycle and for the life you had envisioned for yourself.

When we are teenagers, they terrify us with the fear mongering of teenage pregnancy. The pervasive illusion they create is that all it takes is one sexual encounter without protection and BAM! your life is over. Or that, even with a condom (and maybe the pill too) you could still get pregnant at any time. One stray mighty sperm, if left to its own devices, could conquer one undefended egg in the blink of an eye. I used to have nightmares in college about getting pregnant.

So we use our condoms and take our pills. This illusion that we are all so fertile that a dirty joke could get us pregnant, breeds a concept that since we have the choice of preventing ourselves from getting pregnant, we also have the choice to get pregnant according to plan. The modern day middle class woman’s plan of college, marriage, house, career, and then baby. Of course, there are those statistics floating around about Down’s Syndrome and other genetic issues that increase with pregnancies in one’s 30’s, and some of us worry about still having a teenager in the house when we are 50 and looking to enjoy the relative financial and physical freedom of our early, later years. However, I don’t recall anyone ever telling me that 10%-15% of couples have infertility issues. I was only peripherally concerned because two of my cousins had severe issues.

Then, once it happens, once you join this club of women spending every spare dime on IVF and dedicating years of their lives to the cycle, no one ever talks about when enough is enough. We all get so consumed by the process, that we don’t look up and wonder what we are doing to our bodies, our marriage, and our lives. When do you call it quits. We are done after this cycle. But what if they are able to freeze eggs this time? Could I really call it quits knowing there are frozen eggs sitting there taunting me with possibility. Even if the frozen cycles have an even lower rate of success, just tossing away that possibility would haunt me.

After this round, we will try adoption. It kills me when people say, “Why don’t you just adopt?” As if there is any “just” about it. As if you go online, type in your name and address, select the Amazon Prime delivery option, and two days later a stork shows up with a beautiful baby. Part of me wants to forgive them for their ignorance. After all, the media paints an even prettier picture of adoption than it does of IVF. I don’t think I would understand what an ordeal it was if my cousin hadn’t decided on adoption (twice!) after 7 miscarriages. An even bigger part of me wants to shake these people and shout, “What the hell is wrong with you, you ignorant oblivious baby making machine!” For those actually deciding to embark on the adoption journey, there is a wealth of literature written in user friendly blog-style “how-to” books warning of the expense and possible heartache awaiting them. Unlike those embarking on IVF, who only receive overly-complicated statistics and technical terms warning of birth-defects and percentages. Those warm, funny how-to books are reserved for IVF success stories selling hope and happiness. Hope sells.

Then again…maybe this IVF round will work.