For two years, I’ve been driving around with a box of pregnancy tests in the glove compartment of my car.
Back when I was on the Board for RESOLVE New England, I grabbed one of the bright pink boxes of First Response Early Results pregnancy tests sitting in the basket for our support group attendees. It was one of those freebies, provided to the organization by a sponsor, that we have out for anyone who wants them because we know the cost of HPTs adds up fast. On my way out of the board meeting, I grabbed a box and stashed it in my car. They’ve lived there ever since.
Since I found out I’m pregnant, I’ve blown through three tests already and picked up another box of 12 from the RNE office because hey – free pregnancy tests.
I took one in a panic earlier this week because my appetite was normal (where previously I had had none), my boobs didn’t hurt and this constant sense if something in my uterus disappeared overnight. I thought the worst. I went out to the car and cracked open that box of two-year old HPTs, well past their expiration date and kept in both freezing and sweltering temperatures. I thought for sure they wouldn’t work.
The result line showed up immediately. I’m convinced HPT makers are working the obsoletion racket, knowing we won’t trust the results unless the test is within a good date range. They know we’ll go out an buy more.
This morning, before I left for my third beta, I took another one. This time the result line was so dark it pulled dye from the control line.
I have never been a habitual POAS-er. And I’ve have a complicated relationship with HPTs, given that I have usually taken them when a child wasn’t wanted. So it’s been a very strange thing indeed to suddenly desire them in this way.
As if somehow, seeing these two lines will erase my fear that I’m going to lose this pregnancy.
Another infertility aftershock in the wake of early pregnancy: because of all the blogs I’ve read over the last 3.5 years, I know that we are still so very early in this game. And I am terrified of losing why we have right now.
Enter: the pee sticks.
Larry reminds me I shouldn’t be worried. My RE likes my numbers, my PCP isn’t worried about my TSH and hell- even my acupuncturist is pleased with my progress so far. I’ve had no spotting, I’m noticing bodily changes like my boobs, my sense of smell, my appetite. As far as I can tell, I am still very and truly knocked up. But yanno, I’ve never BEEN truly knocked up before, so I have no frame of reference for how I’m feeling, both emotionally and physically.
This nagging worry likes to pop up from time to time: “don’t get your hopes up! You’ve seen how this has played out on other blogs!”
And Larry is quick to remind and reassure me: “But Keiko: you’re not other blogs.”
Still – I worry.
* * *
There’s been a lot of talk in the ALI blogosphere about envy and jealousy recently. And I think these are important, necessary conversations that need to happen in the blogosphere right now. Combined with Pamela’s commentary about the inevitable survivor’s guilt showing through my announcement post, it’s given me a lot to think about.
And that yes, even though I’m in this long-sought-after “other side” of infertility… I’m envious too.
I’m envious of the women and couples who got to do this naturally.
I envy the ease with which some women deal with pregnancy, how they’re not worrying about making it through another week’s milestone. The women who could care less what their beta numbers are – if they even know them in the first place. The ones who don’t have to worry if this pregnancy will this last, or will I just face another crushing heartbreak in the face of everything else we’ve been through just to get here to this moment.
I’m envious that even though I have made it to the glorious “other side”: I can’t enjoy it as easily as some other people, the people to whom pregnancy came naturally. And I feel like that makes me sound ungrateful because, I’m far from it. I’m grateful for every single second this pregnancy moves forward.
I never realized just how difficult a transition this would be, from a life of infertility to this new lens of possibility. It is a strange and unfamiliar road to walk, my footing not sure and my gait unsteady.
What gets me is that there seems to be very little support out there for this transitory stage of previously infertility now pregnant. In a very literal sense, I am still an infertility patient. I will continue to see my RE through the end of the first trimester.
As much of an emotional upending as my infertility diagnosis was, this uncertain territory of early pregnancy is just as emotionally confusing and overwhelming. Add to the mix a influx of hormones like never before (yanno, especially for someone with POF who really had no hormones at all) – I kind of feel like I’m literally on a bit of an emotional rollercoaster.
I feel like I’m trying to walk through a dark wood with no compass or flashlight. And it’s really, really scary. I feel like there are almost no words to describe this very unique, uncertain fear.
And I’m struggling with that – a lot, in fact. So, for now, I’ll keep peeing on HPTs until I hear that heartbeat.
First ultrasound scheduled for this coming Thursday.
First – congrats on your BFP and welcome to the emotional vortex of being an infertile mother. I finally have my baby girl – but that envy eats at us. I will never know what it feels like to be blissful during a pregnancy 🙁 It’s like although you finally achieve what you’ve been trying to do – you’re flooded with fears and resentment because your experience won’t be the romanticized version we were raised to believe. I say embrace all of the emotions and let them run their course.
Also – if it makes you feel better – I went through a dozen HPTs before I accepted I might be pregnant. I was panicked through all of my betas and I even randomly POASed up until 6 months pregnant ! That’s totally normal! Our infertility battles definitely shape who we are.
I have found that PAIL is a place where there’s lots of folk going through the weirdness of pregnant and infertile or parenting and infertile (because you don’t ever lose the “infertile” part if you ask me) and it helps me keep my head on straight and sometimes I actually am enjoying being pregnant. It’s a nice space to explore that complexity along with folk all over the spectrum of whatever comes after the infertility diagnosis. So welcome!
I peed on a ton of sticks because they made me happy seeing that second line. So. Do that.
A pregnancy test can’t tell you if you have a viable pregnancy, it’s true. (See: My case as a point. I’m pretty sure if I POAS today, I’d see a dark second line.) BUT. If it helps you cope better? Then do it.
For my pregnancy with my son, it was about managing the fear and uncertainty. I had mantras. I had deep breathing. I got through every moment as best as I could.
I wish it was easier for IFers when it gets to this point. But we just know too much.
Anyway. if it helps, sending good juju into the universe for you. (And the box of crinone tomorrow! Promise!)
xoxo
I understand all too well the guilt and that weird fence between infertility and pregnancy.
It took my husband almost 8 years to get pregnant, and somehow it happened naturally (I’m almost 24 weeks and we’re still in shock). I’ve spent a lot of time wondering where I fit in as far as the infertility and soon a mommy community. The guilt at feeling like even though we’d tried so long, but didn’t do any treatments (we were pretty much just going to live child free at this point), make me feel like less of an infertile. But then, I don’t really feel like I have fully enveloped myself into the pregnancy/mommy community because it wasn’t an easy road to get here.
As far as pregnancy worries, I was a nervous wreck for the entire first trimester and really didn’t start calming down until around 15 weeks. I STILL have fears that something will happen to rip this miracle away from me and I won’t be able to get pregnant again, or it’ll take another 8 years to have this happen.
My best friend has been such a great support and has always reminded me that while I can’t do anything about the future per say, I can enjoy where I’m at right now. Something I’m still working on.
I’ll always be an advocate for infertility. I don’t think just because I”m having a baby that I need to stop thinking about it.
Also, I peed on a TON of sticks and cried every time it came back positive. And the first time I saw my baby on an ultrasound (at 7 weeks 5 days) and heard the heartbeat, I bawled in the u/s room and made the tech cry. I’ve gotten a bit better at keeping my emotions in check, meaning I don’t cry in the dr’s office, but I still cry on my way home after hearing the heartbeat. It’s just so amazing.
Best of luck and I can’t wait to hear about your u/s this week!
You know what always tugs at me? Having to explain to someone with kids what a Beta is, what an RE does… There are actually people out there that have sex and make babies never knowing how lucky they are. Sigh.
Yes, the crossover change. As someone who has “crossed over,” there is that no man’s land when pregnant after struggling for so long. You’re not a normal pregnant woman, but you’re no longer “in the trenches” so to speak. I never relaxed in my pregnancy until I was right around 35-36 weeks…my daughter was born at 37 +3 weeks. So there is that jealousy of the normal fertile women who don’t worry over every second of their pregnancy. And it is hard not to worry…the guilt doesn’t help with that either.
I still am and always will be an IFer. I’m now struggling to get pregnant with my number 2 with some of my frozen embryos and failng miserably. It’s not a whole lot easier. Even with my daughter, I never for one minute froget what I’ve been through to get her and what I’m going through to get her a sibling.
keep peeing….I’m cheering you on….and I can’t wait to hear about your ultrasound results!!!
So much about this really resonates with me. This constant worry that actually I’ve made it all up (lessened now that I’ve started in with puking at the drop of a hat), combined with the worry that things are just-about-to-go-wrong (I’m counting down the days til our first ultrasound on friday), combined with the worry that I don’t know how to connect with this community that I’ve found so completely essential on the journey. There is a part of me that feels like while anyone who has suffered through infertility will always carry this with them, those of us who have used donors will also have our own journeys that don’t stop here. For me I think a lot about how and when to tell the kids, to tell family, to tell people in possible pre-natal classes (if we make it that far!). I think it’s going to be a lifetime journey and I’d love to be able to talk with people on that road as well and not feel so guilty for it,
I didn’t have a love affair with pee sticks. I was desperately afraid of them. But then, my experience was also different from yours, too.
And that is the thing to remember, to hold onto. That every pregnancy is its own pregnancy. That it’s different from any other in your body, and certainly from any other in anyone else’s body. It’s sort of a Buddhist approach, this being in the now. But given what we know–and that we all know too much–it is the only way to do pregnancy after infertility and loss. That, with the knowledge that even though we are broken, there are so many hands holding us through the dark woods.
You are not alone.
I peed on Internet cheapies (boy, that sentence fragment is a GEM when taken out of context) until I ran out… at 27dpo. I saved them all, taped to a piece of paper and labeled with the date and DPO. I finally made myself throw them away because, well, technically they were covered in my pee and maybe I didn’t need to put them in the girls’ baby books after all (plus I’d have to divvy then up between two books).
I have been blessed to have never suffered pregnancy loss thus far in my life, and I hope I never will. But infertility is a monster that robs you of carefree sleep long after you’ve kicked it out of your closet (not that IF actually “goes away” for many of us anyways). It wasn’t until the nonstress test an hour before my c-section when I truly felt like nothing terrible was going to happen to my babies– I lived in constant fear of a miscarriage or late-term loss until that test. I figured “hey, if they’ve made it this far, they’ll probably be okay for just one more hour.” And after that, I was cured! Oh wait, no I wasn’t…
Pregnancy after infertility is effing COMPLICATED. It’s messy. And I agree with you that it puts you in a weird sort of limbo where it can be hard to find somewhere to land for support.
Keiko:
You and Pam Madsen are right on point! The IF fertility needs to ban together through all aspects, including sorrow, hope, disappointment, frustration and most of all SUCCESS! I am in full support and anxiously await your pregnancy blogs. Try not to worry (I hate it when people say that to me) but all things work out for good. Wishing you much peace and a healthy happy pregnancy!
You and Mo need to get together to talk about the pee sticks. I have a total hate relationship with them. Still, it’s a bit awesome to see that second line come up so fast.
One of the hardest things about finding one’s self newly pregnant after infertility and loss is that we are no longer naive. We know all too well what can go wrong and how quickly. Does this suck? Absolutely! I truly wish we could all get those 2 lines and be merrily on our way. Unfortunately, we know better. Hence this wait before the first ultrasound is a killer of a wait. Filled with worry and envy.
So, I will tell you the same thing that I tell others: take each moment as you can and if that doesn’t work, find some distraction. I’m willing to bet that your kitties could help you find a million and one ways to do this.
Hang in there Keiko. There’s literally a world of people who are pulling for you and hoping for nothing but tears of joy at your first ultrasound.
First–congrats. When I read the news on Monday, I was overjoyed. It is an odd space–pregnant after infertility is difficult to navigate (I think). Like you said I was very envious of others who didn’t have my worries, my fears, people who had conceived naturally. I often wished for the naivety that my other preggo friends had. Hang in there. I loved your post last week–you were embracing the joy. It’s okay to be scared, but its also okay to be overjoyed. You have so many people cheering for you. Saying prayers and sending good thoughts into the universe. I hope you are able to peacefully settle into this pregnancy. I relaxed a little bit, little, after the ultrasound.
I peed on sticks until the result pulled the dye from the control line – and then I quit. Now that I’m in another way early pregnancy, I’m peeing on a stick daily until my first two betas are done, and then I’ll stop (because the result line will be pulling from the control line by then). It’s a hard habit to break, and does help us feel like things are still going on in there. I totally feel you on that.
Joining PAIL really helped me deal with the feelings I was having post-baby. I would have LOVED being a part of it during my first pregnancy. I have found a wonderful support network in the women there. I know that its creation caused some incredibly unnecessary, immature drama – but it has been a God-send to many (100+) of us.
Balancing a new pregnancy with survivors guilt, and worry, and excitement is really hard.
There DOES seem to be a gapping hole of support for infertiles in early stages of pregnancy. Even in online spaces, I’ve seen some ugly stuff. Newly pregnant ladies chastised for still posting on ttc boards even though they are SO SCARED to post on the “expecting” boards. So fearful of having to return empty handed and too soon to the ttc world. It’s a scary and lonely place to be. Not sure what to do about that.
Im going to urge you to try to embrace and accept this pregnancy. As a coping mechanism or a way to protect myself I sort of went through mine in a stage of denial. And I think it really effected my ability to bound with my daughter as a newborn.
Also, the online support group dailystrength.org has a group “pregnancy after loss/IF”. Saved me.
Lurker here. Congratulations first of all. We just had our first little guy in June after years of trying. I was diagnosed with premature ovarian failure but after countless treatments we got pregnant the old fashioned way. We still aren’t sure how that happened. The pee stick thing happened with me as well. I took one all the time just to reassure myself I was still pregnant. My husband thought I was crazy. Then we got a doppler for around $50 and I was able to check the heartbeat in the early stages to make sure things were okay. Even when I was farther along I would check if he wasn’t moving like I thought he should be. I wish I could say it gets easier but you worry all the time. Now I worry about him being here and something happening to him. I am still super jealous of people that get pregnant easily and didn’t take years of heartbreak to get there. It drives me nuts to hear people planning their next one as to when exactly they are getting pregnant so it can fit easier in their life plan.
Pregnancy is tough and so is raising a child. Are we lucky that we made it this side after our struggles? Of course we are. But that doesn’t mean there are days that don’t suck ever. We are grateful beyond belief but I hated being pregnant. Love my son to death but the getting there I wasn’t very happy with. Doesn’t mean I wasn’t grateful I was just miserable. I hope yours goes smoother than mine and I hope it all works for you all.
There are so many emotions involved with pregnancy after infertility. For me, it was after recurrent loss and infertility, so much felt like it was hanging in the balance. All the time. The pee sticks, yes, a driven desire…. sometimes a NEED. Take a few deep breaths though. Larry is right, this is *you*. Nothing bad has happened yet (NBHHY) as they say. It’s still hard, it’s so much easier to say than do, but right now everything is out of your hands. It’s a scary feeling, but it’s also an assurance that no matter what happens now, you have this moment.
Thinking of you. I know it isn’t easy, but hang in there.
Dear Keiko,
Thank you for this exceptional post. I greatly appreciate your honesty and earnestness.
While my personal story did not look the same as yours, it sounds as if my emotional experience was quite similar. I can’t promise it will get better, or that you will relax, but for your sake, I hope you do (if it’s even possible). However, I know I didn’t, and with hindsight being 20-20 and blessed with a healthy child, it’s easy to regret not being able to enjoy the pregnancy the way I wish I had been able to. Although it still saddens me, I can tell you that some part of me doesn’t think it matters anymore – I may have not connected well with the pregnancy, but I am very well connected with my son.
Wishing you all the best, and a healthy, easy pregnancy.
Oh my dear Keiko. This is my second (thus far) successful pregnancy, my fourth pregnancy total. I peed on sticks almost daily for weeks for every single reason you listed. Like maybe seeing that line screaming at me would promise me that it wouldn’t all end in heartbreak.
I’ve finally started blogging without guilt over it. It’s taken me years, YEARS to get there. I always felt like I needed to downplay my joy because I knew the sting on the other side. After a while, I kept getting e-mails from people chewing me out about being ungrateful for my pregnancy. I never said anything bad about my pregnancies (not going to lie, mine aren’t fun) so I finally gave up and started blogging about all of it, keeping in mind that I’m just going to bother some people.
In real life, I’ve lost friends over being pregnant. Funny part is that I’m still infertile, I still freak out over my numbers and I still will never be able to just have a wildly romantic, spontaneous night with my husband that results in a baby. The “What If’s” never go away. Infertility still kills me, it killed me when I was lying in bed with my newborn son. Would I ever get to do that again? We were both such a close call, my doctor suggested sterilization. It’s hard because you’re in the place I am; Traitor’s Canyon. We’re not infertile because we’re pregnant, but we will never cross to the other side.
At least we aren’t alone here.