Milestones Galore

Two days ago marked 20 years cancer free for me, and I wrote about it a little bit here.

But what isn't apparent in that pretty upbeat post was the deep, deep sadness that consumed me for the entire day. It started creeping up on me as I was writing the post, then just kind of got worse and worse until hubby found me in my office a weepy mess. What the f%^& is wrong with me?? I asked that question, he didn't. I didn't think I had an answer. I just assumed it was a typical malaise that we all encounter every now and again. I was surprised by the words that came out.

20 years later and what do I have to show for it? What have I done with the life that was given to me? How have I helped anyone else besides myself? Who have I lived for beyond me? My life could have ended 20 years ago but it didn't. How have I shown my gratitude?

That was part of it. The other part of was based much more soundly in self-pity. 20 years later and I still have a drawer full of meds I can't afford. What's changed?? 20 years later and I am trying to undo what's been done to pieces of me that were never diseased in the first place.

But hang on a second. That's awfully presumptuous of me. What makes me think that hubby and I would have zero problems conceiving if cancer weren't in the picture? What makes me so sure that we wouldn't be in the same boat as so many of our real and blogging friends - testing, trying, testing again, trying to figure out why what should be so easy sometimes isn't? Cancer is an easy, easy (and deserving) scapegoat for us. But it has saved us from the months and months of diagnostic hells that so many of you go through - Do not pass Go, go directly to Egg Donor Program. We didn't have the unknowns, the unexplained, the maybe this, maybe that diagnoses that I know would have driven me crazy. So, I'm thinking for that I should be thankful.

Yesterday marked the one year anniversary of our first consultation with the RE. One year. That's a long time, but then again, it isn't. One year later and what do we have to show for it? Well, we now have our families and most of our friends fully invested in (and thankfully supportive of) our desire to have a family. It's no longer a secret, something whispered wistfully between us. I have this blog and this one which have turned into vehicles for empowerment, advocacy, and most importantly, have put me in touch with some kick *ss amazing, phenomenal women.

I have two little embryos that I hope are growing inside me as I type. Tune in Thursday for the first Beta.

And for that, I am thankful.

Try Again

Well ladies, you've done it again.

I have read your comments over and over and over again this week and I think I am finally seeing things with a bit more clarity. Thank you, so much, for sharing so much of yourselves in your words to me.

After long conversations, which included much of what you wrote, hubby and I are moving forward with a new donor. Here's how it all went down:

Just as I was getting ready to call Nurse and ask her about the status of two maybe donors who are in the middle of cycles right now, she called me. "Have you looked at -------?" she asked.

It turns out that a very successful donor (2 previous donations resulting in 2 successful pregnancies) had just finished her retrieval and Nurse felt pretty strongly that this just might be the match for us. At first I was dubious, thinking that she just wanted to connect us with someone who wouldn't have the same "what ifs" that made us cancel the last two attempts. And I am sure that's part of it. But then we pulled out the notes that we had taken during our last visit to the clinic. There she was. Definitely on our short list. My hereditary background. Same coloring, same size (ok fine. about 20 lbs lighter) than me. Sounding as sweet as can be.

We called Nurse back to ask a few more questions, the first one being, would she even be willing to donate again? Nurse preempted us by saying she hoped we didn't mind, but she had already taken the liberty of asking. The response was a definite Yes.

There were still some doubts. We can't remember if she was athletic at all. She didn't finish college but she is rising in her professional career. But as you all so aptly put it, who wants a mini-me anyway?

Some of those doubts were washed away yesterday morning when I was, of all places, at a memorial service for the father of a friend and co-worker. The ceremony was one of the most beautiful I have attended, pre-planned by the deceased and meant to be a celebration more than a time of mourning. There was music and quiet meditation and more music, mostly jazz, some inspirational.

Now, you may or may not know, but me and God haven't really been on speaking terms for a while and I have gotten into the bad habit of rolling my eyes when anything too spiritual comes my way. But this service was so peaceful, so loving that I let my guard down and by the time that a song called "Try Again" by Dave Boyer was piped into the system, I was totally unprepared. The words - a simple repetition of "Try Again" with some variations, none of which were written for me but somehow fit our present state, kept striking my spine like a lightning bolt.

Don't get me wrong. I did not find Jesus. My faith is not restored. But who the hell am I to look a sign/omen/revelation in the mouth? I took the words at face value and we are, well, trying again.

So now, we are waiting. Giving the donor some time to rest and recuperate from this last transfer. Not sure when our new schedule will begin in earnest but it is definitely in sight. And that feels good.

News and Next Steps

The good news is I didn't have to jump out of bed this morning and give myself a shot.

The bad news is, you guessed it, this attempt is officially canceled.

After a day spent consulting with our doctor and nurse at the clinic and lots of soul searching we have decided that we are going to try again in a month or so with our chosen donor. That is, of course, if she agrees.

She did begin to slowly respond to higher doses of her meds but our doctor felt that at this rate, she would have 3-5 eggs tops to use. Could this be a fluke? Could she be the one out of twenty women that simply don't respond to artificial stimulation? Would starting at a higher dosage of estrace and then Gonal F solve the problem?

We'll see, won't we?

But why not just choose another donor? You ask. And here is my response.

Back in March, when we had our first consult with this clinic, it was strictly an exploratory visit. We wanted to see what our options were. If they felt good and we we happened to find a donor that knocked our socks off, we would proceed. If not, we would go home, mull it over and decide on next steps after a few glasses of wine.

Well, we found that woman. She knocked our socks off. We knew from the bottom of our hearts we wanted to proceed. With that donor. With this clinic. So we did. We read and reread her profile and felt as if either of us could have written it. We laughed at her responses; we appreciated the time she she took to be so thoughtful in her answers. We felt like she could be one of our coolest friends. She was the reason we went down the egg donor path.

Our doc gave us the info and what he called the "traditional wisdom" that others had followed when faced with our decision. That would be to select another comparable donor, decrease the risk of another cancellation and increase the odds of getting a higher number of eggs. He said he wanted to remove as many uncertainties and "what ifs" from the process as possible. Fair enough.

Our chosen donor already has two children of her own. Which is another reason that we are inclined to think that a.) this cycle was a bit of a fluke and b.) she has some quality eggs, perhaps just not as many as the average person.

Who wants average?

When our doc said he wanted to remove as many "what ifs" as possible, both hubby and I immediately felt that there would always and forever be a "what if" if we settled for a donor that we felt was inferior to the one we have now. Looking through the big book of donor profiles confirmed that. We compared timelines and additional financial obligations with our doc and they are both pretty much a wash. It comes down to, do we want to take a 30% chance of success with someone we feel 100% about or do we want much higher odds with someone that we feel about 30% ok with?

If our donor declines, then we'll reassess the situation. We'll have a look at new donors that have come in. Maybe we'll even pay a visit to another clinic. Maybe we'll wait. We refuse to feel rushed or desperate. There is no reason to be. As far as having a baby, it doesn't have to be right now, it just has to be right.

Bricks without Straw!

Here are more questions from our new patient form that I didn’t know how to answer:

How long have you and your partner been trying to achieve pregnancy?

Who have you told about your struggle with infertility? Have they been supportive?

And then there are categories of family, friends, co-workers, etc. and you’re supposed to check off who knows and who has helped us with our “struggle.”

Is it really a struggle if you know out of the gate it’s not gonna happen? Can you really handicap a racehorse that doesn’t have any legs?

Everyone that knows me knows that I am a cancer survivor. Many in that circle know (or have assumed) that I can’t have or don’t want kids or both. I have probably spent most of my adult life convincing others and myself that I have no interest in kids. Not my own; not anyone’s. Not now. Not ever.

No eggs = no baby. It’s not rocket science.

So, why yearn for something you can’t have? Why set others off on a wild goose chase as well? It’s easier to believe you were never really looking for anything in the first place.

Isn’t it?

Well, now, in a matter of a few short months, all of this has changed. After being dissuaded from the egg donor option years ago by a fertility specialist who felt there were already far too many babies in the world (remind me to tell you about that one), we found a place that has encouraged us, listened to us, and actually given us hope. We found a woman who is willing to share a few of her eggs with me and she doesn’t even know my name.

This is something completely and altogether different.

What do you mean I could have a baby? This changes everything.

So now that there really will be a race, so to speak, things are much less certain. All the definitelies, nos, abosulutely nots, have transformed into possiblies, maybes and could bes.

Now who becomes my circle of support? Whom do I tell about the journey we are about to embark upon? A few close friends and my mother-in-law are no brainers – women who have known me inside and out for years. Even if I didn’t tell them, I feel somehow they would know.

Likewise, a few parties will NOT be brought into the loop until much, much later. Like, my parents (emotional basket cases with problems of their own, prone to excessive worrying and calling daily) and my father-in-law (who cannot keep a secret to save his life).

Some of my co-workers know; some don’t. Most of our friends don’t. My brother, nope. Hubby’s sister, not her either.

Not really worried about any of that. I am sure as the process moves forward and changes in our schedules and lifestyles become apparent, people will start to catch on. Here’s my quandary: what about my childhood cancer survivor friends? I know they would be my loudest cheering section, my strongest supporters. I also know they know the stakes, and might be a little more emotionally invested than others. Which would be joyous if this all works…

I sent a few emails out this morning and my fingers were itching to share the news. We found a donor! We are trying to have a baby! But is it all too premature? What’s the protocol for this kind of thing? When is the right time to call in a circle of support? Who and how and when do I talk about the struggle?