I vividly remember the day this journey began.
It was the spring of 2017. I had healed from my endo surgery done in late 2015 and had been doing every diet, supplement, weekly acupuncture, reiki, and any other possible thing I could think of. I was ready to face that we needed the help of science…. again.
As a side note, this was a very difficult place for me to get to and accept. Why? It just didn’t feel “fair.” I didn’t mean to be in a state of denial, though I do realize I sat in that state far too long now. Isn’t retrospect such an easy place to see those things? What many don’t share is the guilt, shame, and sadness associated with this whole journey.
Common things in my head:
“Brandon would be such an amazing dad and I am the only thing holding him back.”
“What if I hadn’t done [fill in the blank from eating a certain cheese, traveling to a certain country, having that cocktail I didn’t need]?”
“What if I hadn’t been on birth control for so long?”
“What if I exercised more? What if I exercised less?”
You name it, I thought it. I was positive I brought this on myself.
Anyway, I was back in the saddle, mentally prepared to hear that I needed to do IVF to have a child. OK. I accept that. I was ready.
Well… guess what? That is not how it worked out. (Isn’t life just so funny… )
I had found a new, what seemed to me to be a more progressive, fertility clinic. It was an Australian doctor in a city near me. He had some great reviews and… also some bad.
The one that convinced me to see him was one that criticized his honesty. I craved that. It said something about him asking a patient “How can you get pregnant? All I can see is cheeseburgers in here!” during in ultrasound. 😳
I went into the appointment with a thick skin. I had been through this, so I went alone. I don’t work Fridays and I had the time for bloodwork; no reason for Brandon to take a day for that.
I liked the clinic immediately. Diverse population, small clinic, intimate- it felt like a family clinic and I immediately began picturing this man helping B and I create our family.
I am literally the WORST blood giver. That alone took longer than it should and ended with the doctor having to come in himself to draw it (through my hand…causing a huge bruise while I willed myself not to pass out).
I had to wait for lab results but he invited me to come back in a couple of hours as they had the lab in their building. I was excited. The worst is over- let’s get on with this! I called Brandon and excitedly told him I liked this older crass Aussie man who had incredible results and a can-do attitude.
I went back to the office expecting to hear my numbers, get the price of IVF, and get my calendar for the cycle.
I knew immediately as I sat down in his office that this was not going to be the conversation.
For being the straight forward man I already recognized him as, I could tell by his body language that what he was about to say was not good.
“Thick skin,” I remember saying to myself. “He is going to tell me I need to lose some weight- it’s fine.”
Well, it wasn’t. With some of the most compassionate eyes, this man told me that my numbers were quite bad. That my chances of ever having my own child were far less than 5%.
I had walked into this office after a personal battle with myself to accept that I needed to do IVF. THAT wasn’t fair to me. Now, I was being told that IVF alone was also not a good option.
I still remember him trying to be optimistic, and he strangely reminded me of my Grandpa Wood (our dad’s dad), which was extremely comforting somehow. He told me how it was odd, but he had just had a 23-year-old UW math major who “looked like me” and “would be a great egg donor.”
I was nowhere near ready to consider using an egg donor at that moment. I thought IVF, using my own eggs, was going to be my end game.
I was shocked, and my soul was crushed to a point (at that time) that I can’t really explain.
I tried to wrap my head around what I had heard and tried to embrace that there were still options, but it was hard to feel anything but shock and grief. He offered to retest the following day and of course I wanted to do that. There had to be a mistake.
I left his office in tears. It was such a beautiful day and oddly warm for the time of year. I went to a popular waterfall that is said to be a native healing place and sat and cried. It is a strange thing to grieve a child that you never had and give up the idea of ever knowing what a little Brandon and Jamie would be.
The next day was a Saturday and Brandon and I went back together. We waited as walk-ins for what felt like an eternity. After another blood draw, we went for coffee nearby and headed back to hear the same soul-crushing results.
We took our new information and went home to process.
Not shockingly, Brandon did not like this doctor. We tried to hold on to the idea that we still had a 5 % chance. That’s not zero… and… all we need is one.
I’ll share our decisions and next steps in Part 2.
