Infertility can be hard.
While that sounds obvious, I mean it can be:
hard to deal with emotionally
hard on a marriage
the steps to get around the problem of infertility can themselves be hard
Hard and expensive. Emotionally, I had a tough time with infertility because up to the point my wife and I found out that we were having issues, I was never certain I wanted kids. Then the doctors told us we couldn’t. What happened next wasn’t simply wanting what you can’t have. I dove into self-reflection and truly thinking about what a kid would mean to me, what a relationship with MY child would be like. What I could teach them. What I could enjoy with them. Most importantly, how I could do things differently than my father, who’d been an alcoholic, had done.
With these thoughts in mind, I became depressed. I was going to miss out on so much in life. At first we didn’t know if it was my wife or me that was having the issue. I guess it’s natural to blame yourself or blame your spouse. That’s where infertility can become hard on your marriage. When later we found that my wife had a few issues, including endometriosis and a tilted cervix, I didn’t want to blame her. I didn’t want to resent her.
I love her.
The fact was, I was going to make a life with her regardless. We just wouldn’t have kids then. We’d do without. We’d still be happy, even without children. If you notice the word choice of the previous few sentences, you’ll notice that I felt this life with just my bride would be less. I’d be relegated to a childless life. So, I guess you can also say infertility can make it hard on your faith. I questioned why my wife and I, who I believe to be good people, would be punished this way. We’d lay together nightly, tearful and looking for answers. Commonly questioning how drunken sixteen year-olds that don’t want kids can have them so easily. Yet, people that want them so badly can’t.
We decided to pursue fertility specialists and adoption.
This is the point that infertility really began making the ol’ pocket book take a hit. A big hit. Adoption was to be between $15,000 to $20,000, if we stayed with a local adoption agency. Taking a class on adoption, we learned the complicated processes of adopting children from Russia and China. Each of those, you have to go to that country for a month. The month in China is all at once. Russia is two weeks at a time, two separate times. We learned another fear-inducing fact. When you adopt someone from China, Chinese social workers can visit anytime they like. If they don’t like what they see, they can take the child back. Not that I’d expect to show them something they wouldn’t like, but all of these rules, requirements, and costs seemed quite excessive. These were children that, for whatever reason, were without parents. Without homes. Of course, you want to ensure the children go to good, loving homes, but I worried that the requirements and costs were prohibitive.
So, onto our fertility specialist path. We went to a fertility clinic to have our consultation. To see if we were good candidates, or if we’d be turned away. The possibility that we’d be told there was absolutely nothing that they could do for us was very real. We were scared. Thankfully, we were given a chance. We’d passed the first test, we were candidates! But there would be numerous tests to come. Which method? How long we would have to wait? Ultimately, how much it would cost? Each time we’d visit the clinic, I’d pay close attention to a sign they proudly displayed in their lobby. “Two out of three of our patients go home with a baby!”
Two out of three. In school, that grade would be a 67. Failing. This is the thought that went through my head every. single. visit.
By the looks of the crowded waiting area, it seemed like our problem was a common one. First, the clinic had us wait six months after having cut out birth control. Then we had to fix my wife’s issues related to endometriosis, including a surgery. This was another six months. Then she had to take medicines that faked menopause in order to correct adenomyosis, which was a problem in the muscle wall of her uterus caused by the endometriosis. You guessed it.
Another six months.
So much time was taken to get to the point where we could even try. At the time, with the fear, anxiety, worry, and sadness we were experiencing, this felt like time lost. We were being kept waiting, life on pause. Finally, my wife was given hormone shots, and we could begin trying.
More months, still no results, still waiting. Next up was IUI (intrauterine insemination). Each month, we’d try this, each month it was a failure, each month my wife and I cried. We were running out of options. In vitro fertilization was the last possibility. We had to talk to the money people. We could do just over $10,000 for 1 attempt (totaling around $17,000 for the whole ordeal from the beginning) or choose the “shared-risk” version for $18,000 allowing for 3 attempts (totaling around $25,000). Shared risk meant that if you paid for 3 attempts, and once was sufficient, the extra money would help other couples who needed to do all 3 attempts. We went this route as it seemed to better our odds. Our odds. We were gambling for our lives. Our fear was palpable.
It worked. One try, and IVF worked! My wife was pregnant with twins. It was a long road.
It was an expensive road.
But I look into my children’s’ eyes, and know that it was worth every minute. *Also published on FamiliesofMultiples.com
Be sure to check out our other parenting advice.
Comments