It's been over 8 weeks since the birth of our daughter, the Tiny Fish. She is glorious and gorgeous and has the most delicious cheeky smile.
I've found a rare moment of quiet time where she is asleep, I am awake enough to type, and all is calm in our house. So I'm going to put down a really short and sweet version of my birth story. Before I forget too much.
My waters broke at 3am on 24/6/14. I drenched the bed, the bedroom carpet, hallway carpet, the Lino in the kitchen, porch hallway and then proceeded to flood the toilet floor too. I managed to clean the floor. Went and woke up my Hubby who took a second to click. I put a towel down and went back to bed.
Mild contractions started very gently half an hour later. They I had to get up and spend some quality time in the loo. Then I wondered how in hell I was going to get off the loo and not make another mess and wake my Hubby up again. I had time to download an app to time contractions. Good thing I did too as they were coming fast.
5.30am it was time to phone our midwife. 6.30am we phoned her again and said I wasn't going to be able to wait until 7am and we were gonna go up to hospital now.
We live just down the road from the hospital. I cursed every single one of the speed bumps on the way thru the hospital.
It had been raining. A friendly person in the corridor made a joke about it's gonna be a long night. Or day. We had no clue. Entering the maternity wing and this giant hug of warm air and weirdly soothing elevator music - which turned out to be the first morning alarm on Hubby's phone. We checked in and got room 4. G, a ward midwife looked after us until ours arrived.
Our mw wasn't there yet as she had to travel from a village outside of the city. Her battery went flat so she tried to jump start it and accidentally started a fire. She borrowed a car and it ran very low on petrol so she had to go back home and steal the lawnmower petrol. When she got there at 7.20am I was 9cm dilated already. I couldn't believe I was that far along.
Soon I was allowed to push. I never felt like I couldn't do it. I used breathing, saying out loud "relax everything" in between contractions, and etonox (gas and air). Looking back, I wish I had had an epidural. But nobody could have known what was coming.
Anyway, baby's heart rate was taking a few dips and not recovering very fast so my mw got me up resting over the back of the bed which seemed to help.
I pushed for 2hrs at which point my contractions started to taper off a bit. I personally thought this was delightful as I got a black spell of rest between the contractions. Empty painfree bliss. But apparently that was not good. My mw had me do nipple stimulation to try and get contractions happening with more strength and speed and it worked. But baby wasn't moving. She called in the OB who discovered that my baby's head was turtle-ing. A sign of shoulder dystocia.
My baby would need help. It's heart rate started dropping. The emergency bell was pushed and people flooded into the room. I felt calm under it all as I trusted those around me to take care of me.
First up the OB tried ventouse as baby's head had gone a bit crooked. The cap popped off a couple if times, so she moved on to forceps. And an episiotomy. Boo.
She was pulling so hard. Her foot up on the bed. At last I felt baby's head be born very quickly. And then all the pain of labour suddenly paled and was completely overwhelmed by this new thing which was just so big and massive I didn't know how to feel it. The pain was so incredible and multi faceted and discordant. I could feel my bones. Tiny Fish's shoulders were stuck. I remember writhing? Screaming noises I didn't know we're human let alone me. So high those noises. The OB working frantically. Eyes shut, open just for glimpses. The intense unbelievable indescribable feeling of pushing and actually feeling the resistance akin to pushing against a concrete wall. It was just not gonna move. The OB did the Woodward screw manoever where she had to get hold of an arm and spin the baby.
A huge movement and then the biggest physical and mental relief I've ever felt.
Tiny Fish was born arm-first at 10.29am. After 5hrs10mins of labour.
She landed on my chest and lifted her head and opened her black, disgruntled eyes and looked at me I will never forget that look. She was purple and wet and had hair that wasn't as black as I'd expected. The mw checked if she was a boy or girl. She was there about ten minutes I'm told but I kept blacking out so it felt like only 30 seconds. I have two memories of her on my chest: eyes and gender. My third memory is seeing her across the room on the baby bed where 3(?) paediatricians are working like mad over her with an oxygen mask. But I knew she would be fine cos she looked at me. And besides, what newborn can lift their head defiantly as their very first act? She did cry but I can't recall what it sounded like.
My husband. By my side helping me through. Together. Just being pure love. He always knew what I needed. I always cry thinking of what he went through that day, and the strength he has.
Tiny Fish had to go to NICU for potential breathing issues and hypoglycemia. I had brought along a small amount of expressed colostrum for her to have.
The OB was trying to sew me up. The midwives were massaging my tummy. There was blood on my thigh. Legs up in black leather stirrup things. Lithotomy position my birth notes say. Nurses were putting more IV lines in. Everything was hurting again. I was still having to breath through the pain. The placenta came but it was incomplete. I remember someone asking a nurse to measure the blood loss. 2 litres. Enough to warrant a trip to theatre to get stitched up. An episiotomy and a 3rd degree tear. When I asked how many stitches I had received later, the OB said she didn't bother counting.
Getting ready to go to the operating theatre was strangely calm after that. I got terrible shakes and said I was cold so they bundled me up in white. I had to shimmy across to another bed to make the long trip to the other end of the hospital. From the old wing to the new.
Hubby went out to meet my parents who had been waiting in the waiting room. Worried as they could hear everything. When he came back in the room he surveyed all the blood and fainted.
My parents met me as I was leaving the delivery suite. Tears and smiles and kisses and hugs. They would go to neonates and watch over their first grandchild.
Then there was the strange calm of being wheeled down endless corridors, fluorescent lights overhead. It was mid morning and the day was a drizzly grey winters morning. Fog and condensation on the windows. In pre-op Hubby couldn't come in so he went back to be with our daughter. My midwife was allowed to accompany me into theatre. I had 3 anaesthetists, one of whom has T1D and wanted to know all about my pump and Dex (diabetes stuff all went fine, in case you were wondering). The OB stitched me up and I woke up in post-op recovery so terribly thirsty. But content. I knew she was fine. I knew Hubby was with her. I was alive. I got what I wanted: everybody healthy and alive.
My mw came and said that she had arranged it so that I could be wheeled right into the NICU to meet my daughter again. I have never wanted to be wheeled faster. The urge to try and jump off the bed and hurry towards her. But I was so tired and heavy.
Euphoria.
She was in an incubator. Someone got her out and laid her on my chest. She looked up at me with bleary eyes. She had massive bruising from the forceps and ventouse. Her head was a beautiful round shape. Black eyes. And torn skin from the forceps. She still has a scar even now.
And then I was put into a room to recover. That will be the next part, cos the story is not over yet.
~~~Happy birthday, my sweet one. You are so wanted. Mummy and Daddy love you. Xoxo
Showing posts with label Why I'm writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Why I'm writing. Show all posts
Friday, August 22, 2014
Saturday, June 28, 2014
She is here!!!!!!
I went into early-term labour spontaneously at 37w4d, 3am on Tuesday morning.
Our beautiful daughter was born healthy at 10.29am later that same morning. Both now doing well after a somewhat rocky start, details on the birth to come later.
Huge thanks to the teams involved in our care and well-being.
Much love, Kaitake.
Our beautiful daughter was born healthy at 10.29am later that same morning. Both now doing well after a somewhat rocky start, details on the birth to come later.
Huge thanks to the teams involved in our care and well-being.
Much love, Kaitake.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Interesting article on infertility
Interesting article about how infertility changes our perceptions, and perhaps how others perceive us.
I am currently on leave for a week - yay school holidays! I hope to make some artwork this week. I have a couple of ideas so we'll see what I can magic up :P
Unfortunately this time of year is hard for me. I have 1 year left to wait of penalty time before hubby and I become eligible to go on the 18 month waiting list for publicly funded IVF, ICSI, sperm retrieval.
That is a total of 2.5 more years to wait. That will make the total time that I've been waiting = 10.5 years. I will be 31. I am 29 now and I was 27 when I started this blog.
It's not an easy wait. I have had absolutely no contact with the clinic for months. I last spoke to the clinic manager on the phone, telling her I would send in a formal complaint letter. Inertia has gotten the better of me, and when the local politician, and the Minister of Health both shrugged and said they couldn't help, I kinda resigned myself to waiting. Fighting was destroying me.
I would dearly love to change clinics. But because I am not a human being, the NZ health system sees fit to restrict me, someone from the provinces, to a single clinic. This is the only location in NZ where I can access publicly funded treatment - once I wait wait wait and wait for it.
Time away from work is hard, because IF consumes me. I keep thinking about how the beauracrats classify our case, and how we don't fit into any neat little pigeon-hole:
I have primary infertility, but I am perfectly fertile.
My hubby has secondary infertility caused by a vasectomy during his first marriage. So is it secondary IF when it's with different spouses?
Hubby is adopted, and early on he raised the idea of us adopting a child. I knew then that he understood how much a child would mean to me, but not that I needed the child to be mine. Of me, and of him.
Partially, this idea has been tested. I have 3 step kids. They don't live with us full-time, and we get along well. But they're not mine. I look at them and my heart is crushed each time as I remember that hubby has this past which I can do nothing about to change.
Which is also strange, because if any part of hubby's past was different (if he never met his first wife, never had kids, never got talked into having the vasectomy etc etc) then chances are I would never have met'n'married him. And he is my best friend. So I am absolutely torn when that ugly desire rears it's head.
I feel alone. Because I am going thru IF. I am the one who doesn't have kids and he does. So he doesn't have the same sense of urgency or need. Plus I'm not really infertile at all. Technically, I don't know, since my eggs have never been anywhere even remotely close to any sperm ever.
I feel full of unsettling opposites. Infertile but not. Secondary versus primary. A step mom but not a real mum. Happy with life and love and job but unfulfilled. 8+ years in this situation but not long enough duration to qualify.
I haven't even contacted my OB who referred me to the fertility clinic. Maybe he could help - of course that would cost money.
My new GP is very nice. He actually trained in the same class as the head of the fertility clinic franchise. But what can he do? He can change the law can he?
I am a patient who has been left completely alone. No follow up care whatsoever. And reading the article at the top of this post, seeing stories about how the relationship with the RE is crucial - I just feel lost. If I complain now, will they make it harder for us later? They are a business that is largely unmonitored, so they can probably chuck noisy customers to the bottom of the heap.
As you can see, holidays have once again given me too much time to think and mope. Either I spend this week making artwork, or start writin' letters again.
What do you think I should do?
I am currently on leave for a week - yay school holidays! I hope to make some artwork this week. I have a couple of ideas so we'll see what I can magic up :P
Unfortunately this time of year is hard for me. I have 1 year left to wait of penalty time before hubby and I become eligible to go on the 18 month waiting list for publicly funded IVF, ICSI, sperm retrieval.
That is a total of 2.5 more years to wait. That will make the total time that I've been waiting = 10.5 years. I will be 31. I am 29 now and I was 27 when I started this blog.
It's not an easy wait. I have had absolutely no contact with the clinic for months. I last spoke to the clinic manager on the phone, telling her I would send in a formal complaint letter. Inertia has gotten the better of me, and when the local politician, and the Minister of Health both shrugged and said they couldn't help, I kinda resigned myself to waiting. Fighting was destroying me.
I would dearly love to change clinics. But because I am not a human being, the NZ health system sees fit to restrict me, someone from the provinces, to a single clinic. This is the only location in NZ where I can access publicly funded treatment - once I wait wait wait and wait for it.
Time away from work is hard, because IF consumes me. I keep thinking about how the beauracrats classify our case, and how we don't fit into any neat little pigeon-hole:
I have primary infertility, but I am perfectly fertile.
My hubby has secondary infertility caused by a vasectomy during his first marriage. So is it secondary IF when it's with different spouses?
Hubby is adopted, and early on he raised the idea of us adopting a child. I knew then that he understood how much a child would mean to me, but not that I needed the child to be mine. Of me, and of him.
Partially, this idea has been tested. I have 3 step kids. They don't live with us full-time, and we get along well. But they're not mine. I look at them and my heart is crushed each time as I remember that hubby has this past which I can do nothing about to change.
Which is also strange, because if any part of hubby's past was different (if he never met his first wife, never had kids, never got talked into having the vasectomy etc etc) then chances are I would never have met'n'married him. And he is my best friend. So I am absolutely torn when that ugly desire rears it's head.
I feel alone. Because I am going thru IF. I am the one who doesn't have kids and he does. So he doesn't have the same sense of urgency or need. Plus I'm not really infertile at all. Technically, I don't know, since my eggs have never been anywhere even remotely close to any sperm ever.
I feel full of unsettling opposites. Infertile but not. Secondary versus primary. A step mom but not a real mum. Happy with life and love and job but unfulfilled. 8+ years in this situation but not long enough duration to qualify.
I haven't even contacted my OB who referred me to the fertility clinic. Maybe he could help - of course that would cost money.
My new GP is very nice. He actually trained in the same class as the head of the fertility clinic franchise. But what can he do? He can change the law can he?
I am a patient who has been left completely alone. No follow up care whatsoever. And reading the article at the top of this post, seeing stories about how the relationship with the RE is crucial - I just feel lost. If I complain now, will they make it harder for us later? They are a business that is largely unmonitored, so they can probably chuck noisy customers to the bottom of the heap.
As you can see, holidays have once again given me too much time to think and mope. Either I spend this week making artwork, or start writin' letters again.
What do you think I should do?
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Some grumpy business
Don't you hate it when you think you are doing something good, and someone slaps you in the face for it?
I have been writing this blog for a wee bit now, and it has been both a cathartic journalling exercise for me, and a way to share information with others in the same boat. I'm really passionate about transparency and honesty in the health system, and the NZ infertility system has really left me disappointed.
Just this week, I thought I was coping pretty well. I had a moment where I thought about all the good things in my life and smiled and got the ol' warm fuzzies. Things like my wonderful husband, my cool job, and the fact that I live in one of the most beautiful places in the world. Even if it does rain a bit too much some days!
But then I got a short, snarly email from someone who I've been in contact with (who I shall refer to as "The co-Author) during the course of my infertility journey. He was pissed off. My husband agreed with him. I couldn't see the logic in what he was saying. The problem the co-Author had was that I'd published his emails to me, which included his name.
Well, duh!
I was discussing a report he had co-authored, and the information he provided me was basically what my whole life was focussed on for a good few months at the beginning of this year. A report that identifies him very easily - just Google the name of the report. In other words - he was already well and truly "in the open" about working in the infertility industry. And if I write the name of the report, it's as if I had already written his name. So no, I don't fully understand the grumpiness about it. I certainly don't understand the complete lack of manners.
But, because I am a nice person, I have wasted several hours removing the co-Author's name from my posts. I don't actually see that this will harm my blog's integrity, as my readers can still find out that information if they wish. And hopefully it will satisfy the co-Author's need to remain private. Didn't mean to offend you see. I understand what it's like to be a private person and have important decisions about your life accidentally, unwittingly, unknowingly taken from you. Sound familiar?
Let me get this straight - I did not go out of my way to make anyone unhappy, I just saw that the co-Author's name was already published, so logically, to me, it made sense to continue publishing the name. It didn't even cross my mind that I should censor it. Sigh. Tricky business this, pleasing everyone.
Oh, and the email wasn't exactly complementary either. It insinuated that I have an "agenda" and this only goes to prove my point: discrimination against those made infertile by vasectomy are considered second class citizens in NZ when it comes to accessing funding for treatment.
OK, so I do have an agenda. Yep, it's really well hidden! Guess what? It's TO HAVE A BABY. How hard was that to figure out? :P
Talking to people, such as the co-author, the MP, the many doctors, the HDC advocate etc, none of it is done for fun. It's the only option I can see at this stage in my journey, because I'm restricted from doing anything practical. Like starting treatment. I've conducted myself professionally and have not screamed and shouted at these people, as my heart wanted so badly to do sometimes. So to have one behave so rudely to me is upsetting.
/end rant
In other, nicer news, I took my first group of students on a very successful field trip, and then attended my first graduation ceremony as a tutor rather than a student! How awesome is that?! :)
What about you? Ever had a spat with someone who only knows you via your blog? What did you do?
I have been writing this blog for a wee bit now, and it has been both a cathartic journalling exercise for me, and a way to share information with others in the same boat. I'm really passionate about transparency and honesty in the health system, and the NZ infertility system has really left me disappointed.
Just this week, I thought I was coping pretty well. I had a moment where I thought about all the good things in my life and smiled and got the ol' warm fuzzies. Things like my wonderful husband, my cool job, and the fact that I live in one of the most beautiful places in the world. Even if it does rain a bit too much some days!
But then I got a short, snarly email from someone who I've been in contact with (who I shall refer to as "The co-Author) during the course of my infertility journey. He was pissed off. My husband agreed with him. I couldn't see the logic in what he was saying. The problem the co-Author had was that I'd published his emails to me, which included his name.
Well, duh!
I was discussing a report he had co-authored, and the information he provided me was basically what my whole life was focussed on for a good few months at the beginning of this year. A report that identifies him very easily - just Google the name of the report. In other words - he was already well and truly "in the open" about working in the infertility industry. And if I write the name of the report, it's as if I had already written his name. So no, I don't fully understand the grumpiness about it. I certainly don't understand the complete lack of manners.
But, because I am a nice person, I have wasted several hours removing the co-Author's name from my posts. I don't actually see that this will harm my blog's integrity, as my readers can still find out that information if they wish. And hopefully it will satisfy the co-Author's need to remain private. Didn't mean to offend you see. I understand what it's like to be a private person and have important decisions about your life accidentally, unwittingly, unknowingly taken from you. Sound familiar?
Let me get this straight - I did not go out of my way to make anyone unhappy, I just saw that the co-Author's name was already published, so logically, to me, it made sense to continue publishing the name. It didn't even cross my mind that I should censor it. Sigh. Tricky business this, pleasing everyone.
Oh, and the email wasn't exactly complementary either. It insinuated that I have an "agenda" and this only goes to prove my point: discrimination against those made infertile by vasectomy are considered second class citizens in NZ when it comes to accessing funding for treatment.
OK, so I do have an agenda. Yep, it's really well hidden! Guess what? It's TO HAVE A BABY. How hard was that to figure out? :P
Talking to people, such as the co-author, the MP, the many doctors, the HDC advocate etc, none of it is done for fun. It's the only option I can see at this stage in my journey, because I'm restricted from doing anything practical. Like starting treatment. I've conducted myself professionally and have not screamed and shouted at these people, as my heart wanted so badly to do sometimes. So to have one behave so rudely to me is upsetting.
/end rant
In other, nicer news, I took my first group of students on a very successful field trip, and then attended my first graduation ceremony as a tutor rather than a student! How awesome is that?! :)
What about you? Ever had a spat with someone who only knows you via your blog? What did you do?
Monday, May 2, 2011
Interview with a PhD candidate
My blog has made itself truly useful. A PhD-candidate student who is researching in the area of NZ Artifical Reproductive Technology policy contacted me and asked me to become part of her study.
She came today and did the interview, which I was delighted to be a part of. I mean, it's not everyday someone approaches you asking for your opinion on stuff, let alone something you're passionate about! And, it's studies like this that governments take notice of. So I'm hopeful.
The interview itself was about an hour long, and although she had a set of questions to ask me, the first one "tell your story" was incredible. Just to speak all those thoughts and feelings out aloud to someone who wasn't judgemental, who got it, and who seemed very interested in what I had to say was wonderful.
For me it was a cathartic experience. I just hope that my input is helpful. She (I won't reveal her name, since I haven't revealed mine that wouldn't be fair now would it?) mentioned that it's hard to find people in New Zealand going through IVF or other ARTs, because of the privacy laws. That's why my blog gets a pat on the head today :) Good blog, goooood blog. (Don't know why my blog has turned into a cat but it has.)
Blogging has allowed my voice to be heard, to be found, and hopefully to make a difference. I quite like that. :)
She came today and did the interview, which I was delighted to be a part of. I mean, it's not everyday someone approaches you asking for your opinion on stuff, let alone something you're passionate about! And, it's studies like this that governments take notice of. So I'm hopeful.
The interview itself was about an hour long, and although she had a set of questions to ask me, the first one "tell your story" was incredible. Just to speak all those thoughts and feelings out aloud to someone who wasn't judgemental, who got it, and who seemed very interested in what I had to say was wonderful.
For me it was a cathartic experience. I just hope that my input is helpful. She (I won't reveal her name, since I haven't revealed mine that wouldn't be fair now would it?) mentioned that it's hard to find people in New Zealand going through IVF or other ARTs, because of the privacy laws. That's why my blog gets a pat on the head today :) Good blog, goooood blog. (Don't know why my blog has turned into a cat but it has.)
Blogging has allowed my voice to be heard, to be found, and hopefully to make a difference. I quite like that. :)
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
NIAW: Bust an Infertility Myth - Vasectomy is infertility too!
What is NIAW?
I may be in New Zealand, but I am still excited to be involved in America's National Infertility Awareness Week's Bust an Infertility Myth challenge. It's a fantastic campaign to raise awareness for infertility and break apart stereotypes people may have of what infertility is all about. The organisation Resolve.org is the driving force behind the action, and I only wish they had a New Zealand branch!
What is the Infertility Myth that I will bust?
I have chosen to talk about the myths that surround my life, even though they rarely get mentioned out loud.
Myth: Having a sterilisation (i.e. vasectomy) is not true infertility, it's just contraception! What did you expect?
Busted: Actually, that's not true at all. Not. Even. Close.
Let's look at what infertility actually is. The inability to conceive a child after one year of unprotected intercourse (as defined by my doctors and FertilityNZ). And what is a vasectomy? A surgical procedure where the vas (tubes that carry sperm into the seminal fluid) are cut, so that conception will not occur. On the surface, yes it does appear that a vasectomy is indeed a form on contraception. A very effective and (normally) permanent one.
So why am I now classed as an infertile woman?
My husband has a vasectomy. He got it in his previous marriage, and from what he's told me, he did it because with 3 kids already he felt it was the socially responsible thing to do. There may also have been some pressure from the ex-wife too.
We now want kids. I have wanted children for a while. This year we will click over 8 years of infertility. During that time, I have been in as much anguish as any other infertile woman. We may have different underlying causes to our infertility from the majority of other couples, but there is still sweet f*ck all that we can do about it. Without major, expensive medical intervention, of course.
I still desperately want to be pregnant, to give birth, to buy baby clothes for my child and not someone else's, to raise a family with my husband (not just step-kids who very clearly belong to their Mum), and to grow old knowing I will become a grand-mother and have my family line continue.
I remember the shock and hurt I felt when my ob/gyn told me nonchalantly that I was infertile. No I wasn't! I was at his office to discuss getting a vasectomy-reversal for my husband (and more specifically, what I would need to do to get my body ready, as a T1 Diabetic woman) - not to be diagnosed with a new condition!! The shock and disbelief were real. The pain, tears, and anguish are real.
In many blogs I read about IF, women talk about how they hope that their next cycle will be the one, or that next year will be the one, or that this new treatment will work. I feel completely left out, because we are not able to pursue treatment actively at the moment. A vasectomy is 100% effective so it's no use waiting for the next cycle. No amount of (very fun) trying will make a bit of difference.
I see it in people's faces when I reveal that we now want a family. In my parent's surprise, in my friend's careful questions. They are wondering what the hell is wrong with me, wanting to have kids with a (wonderful, loving, handsome, caring, generous, sensitive) man who has a vasectomy! I knew what I was getting into.....didn't I?
Answer: no. I knew that my husband-to-be had a vasectomy, and I vaguely knew that you could get them reversed. But at the beginning of our romance that's about all I knew. I also didn't know that we would fall madly in love and pledge to spend the rest of our lives together in front of our families on Valentine's Day in a heavenly Chinese garden. I didn't know I wanted kids back then when we started dating. And it's not generally something you discuss until the relationship is well and truly "serious".
But once we began investigating the idea of a vasectomy reversal, it soon became clear that it would a) cost a lot, and b) have a very low chance of success. The doctors recommended the big guns for us. What else but infertility would require IVF, ICSI, and sperm retrieval to make a baby?
I was devastated when I found out that I would need to have all the IVF drugs. I did know that IVF was incredibly expensive, and so it was only because we were told that we would "surely" qualify for public funding for fertility treatment that together we went through the infertility workup. Nearly a year passed, with blood tests, ultrasounds, an operation, and consultations, all for naught when we were cruelly denied access to public funding at the last minute. In fact, during the consultation where we were expecting to be given a schedule appointments to kick-start IVF.
I have spent every spare minute over the past year and a half thinking, blogging, emailing, writing, meeting people, and just generally trying to get that heart-crushing decision changed. So far no luck.
But along the way I really hope that I've changed some people's minds about what constitutes infertility. And a sterilisation from a previous relationship certainly counts as infertility. It takes away the couple's right to choose and determine their own life. It brings worry and anguish into the thoughts of the couple, and in our case, it puts the ability to access treatment in the hands of doctors and government officials. How could anyone not be severely affected by this? How could anyone think this is fair? (As the folks who determined the rules do). It has completely changed my life-view. It has made me an advocate for my health and my future.
Believe me, no matter what the cause of your infertility, it will still hurt.
An unwanted sterilisation causes the inability to conceive. This is infertility. It is not able to be changed by the current couple as there is no way to go back in time and alter the decisions made in a previous relationship.
It is my goal to help raise awareness in the New Zealand community about this issue, and I would ultimately love to get the laws around access to public funding for fertility treatment altered so they are no longer discriminatory against couples who have experienced the trauma and suffering of infertility caused by sterilisation from a previous relationship.
Where can you go for more information?
Gain a basic understanding of infertility here http://www.resolve.org/infertility101
Learn more about National Infertility Awareness Week® (NIAW) http://www.resolve.org/takecharge
Where can I get more information in New Zealand?
www.fertilitynz.org.nz - Fertility New Zealand is committed to supporting, advocating for and educating all people who face infertility challenges at all stages of their journey and beyond.
I may be in New Zealand, but I am still excited to be involved in America's National Infertility Awareness Week's Bust an Infertility Myth challenge. It's a fantastic campaign to raise awareness for infertility and break apart stereotypes people may have of what infertility is all about. The organisation Resolve.org is the driving force behind the action, and I only wish they had a New Zealand branch!
What is the Infertility Myth that I will bust?
I have chosen to talk about the myths that surround my life, even though they rarely get mentioned out loud.
Myth: Having a sterilisation (i.e. vasectomy) is not true infertility, it's just contraception! What did you expect?
Busted: Actually, that's not true at all. Not. Even. Close.
Let's look at what infertility actually is. The inability to conceive a child after one year of unprotected intercourse (as defined by my doctors and FertilityNZ). And what is a vasectomy? A surgical procedure where the vas (tubes that carry sperm into the seminal fluid) are cut, so that conception will not occur. On the surface, yes it does appear that a vasectomy is indeed a form on contraception. A very effective and (normally) permanent one.
So why am I now classed as an infertile woman?
My husband has a vasectomy. He got it in his previous marriage, and from what he's told me, he did it because with 3 kids already he felt it was the socially responsible thing to do. There may also have been some pressure from the ex-wife too.
We now want kids. I have wanted children for a while. This year we will click over 8 years of infertility. During that time, I have been in as much anguish as any other infertile woman. We may have different underlying causes to our infertility from the majority of other couples, but there is still sweet f*ck all that we can do about it. Without major, expensive medical intervention, of course.
I still desperately want to be pregnant, to give birth, to buy baby clothes for my child and not someone else's, to raise a family with my husband (not just step-kids who very clearly belong to their Mum), and to grow old knowing I will become a grand-mother and have my family line continue.
I remember the shock and hurt I felt when my ob/gyn told me nonchalantly that I was infertile. No I wasn't! I was at his office to discuss getting a vasectomy-reversal for my husband (and more specifically, what I would need to do to get my body ready, as a T1 Diabetic woman) - not to be diagnosed with a new condition!! The shock and disbelief were real. The pain, tears, and anguish are real.
In many blogs I read about IF, women talk about how they hope that their next cycle will be the one, or that next year will be the one, or that this new treatment will work. I feel completely left out, because we are not able to pursue treatment actively at the moment. A vasectomy is 100% effective so it's no use waiting for the next cycle. No amount of (very fun) trying will make a bit of difference.
I see it in people's faces when I reveal that we now want a family. In my parent's surprise, in my friend's careful questions. They are wondering what the hell is wrong with me, wanting to have kids with a (wonderful, loving, handsome, caring, generous, sensitive) man who has a vasectomy! I knew what I was getting into.....didn't I?
Answer: no. I knew that my husband-to-be had a vasectomy, and I vaguely knew that you could get them reversed. But at the beginning of our romance that's about all I knew. I also didn't know that we would fall madly in love and pledge to spend the rest of our lives together in front of our families on Valentine's Day in a heavenly Chinese garden. I didn't know I wanted kids back then when we started dating. And it's not generally something you discuss until the relationship is well and truly "serious".
But once we began investigating the idea of a vasectomy reversal, it soon became clear that it would a) cost a lot, and b) have a very low chance of success. The doctors recommended the big guns for us. What else but infertility would require IVF, ICSI, and sperm retrieval to make a baby?
I was devastated when I found out that I would need to have all the IVF drugs. I did know that IVF was incredibly expensive, and so it was only because we were told that we would "surely" qualify for public funding for fertility treatment that together we went through the infertility workup. Nearly a year passed, with blood tests, ultrasounds, an operation, and consultations, all for naught when we were cruelly denied access to public funding at the last minute. In fact, during the consultation where we were expecting to be given a schedule appointments to kick-start IVF.
I have spent every spare minute over the past year and a half thinking, blogging, emailing, writing, meeting people, and just generally trying to get that heart-crushing decision changed. So far no luck.
But along the way I really hope that I've changed some people's minds about what constitutes infertility. And a sterilisation from a previous relationship certainly counts as infertility. It takes away the couple's right to choose and determine their own life. It brings worry and anguish into the thoughts of the couple, and in our case, it puts the ability to access treatment in the hands of doctors and government officials. How could anyone not be severely affected by this? How could anyone think this is fair? (As the folks who determined the rules do). It has completely changed my life-view. It has made me an advocate for my health and my future.
Believe me, no matter what the cause of your infertility, it will still hurt.
An unwanted sterilisation causes the inability to conceive. This is infertility. It is not able to be changed by the current couple as there is no way to go back in time and alter the decisions made in a previous relationship.
It is my goal to help raise awareness in the New Zealand community about this issue, and I would ultimately love to get the laws around access to public funding for fertility treatment altered so they are no longer discriminatory against couples who have experienced the trauma and suffering of infertility caused by sterilisation from a previous relationship.
Where can you go for more information?
Gain a basic understanding of infertility here http://www.resolve.org/infertility101
Learn more about National Infertility Awareness Week® (NIAW) http://www.resolve.org/takecharge
Where can I get more information in New Zealand?
www.fertilitynz.org.nz - Fertility New Zealand is committed to supporting, advocating for and educating all people who face infertility challenges at all stages of their journey and beyond.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Why I'm writing this blog
So I thought I would take a moment and let you know why I'm writing this blog, when there are hundreds and hundreds of others out there.
I've just started with all this, and the sheer amount of information related to "infertility" and "ivf" is overwhelming. Where should I start looking?
Plus, I have not yet found a single blog that deals with the same issues my husband and I face: age difference, vasectomy, IVF, and type 1 diabetes. There are some fabulous blogs out there about most of these topics, but none explaining how to pull it all together. I guess I will write in the hope that it may help someone else who is dealing with the same stuff.
I also just want to chronicle all this for my own personal interest. I have tried in the past to keep a written journal and failed miserably every time. Here's hoping that the added incentive of an audience will inspire me to keep writing!
As an aside: I had never stopped to consider that we were an infertile couple. My husband has 3 wonderful kids (feels like 7 when they start making noise!), and there is no reason to suspect anything is wrong with me. It's just that vasectomy. It's not "infertility" when it's self-inflicted, is it? Apparently, yes. That's what my ob/gyn says anyway, and he's a trustworthy sort of fellow.
Another aside: Sometimes it really bothers me that a decision made in a previous marriage can affect me so physically and deeply. It's life-changing, knowing you cannot possibly have a child without "assistance". But that's life and I just have to get on with it.
I have heaps of things to write about, so I hope you will find reading it useful. Stay tuned.
I've just started with all this, and the sheer amount of information related to "infertility" and "ivf" is overwhelming. Where should I start looking?
Plus, I have not yet found a single blog that deals with the same issues my husband and I face: age difference, vasectomy, IVF, and type 1 diabetes. There are some fabulous blogs out there about most of these topics, but none explaining how to pull it all together. I guess I will write in the hope that it may help someone else who is dealing with the same stuff.
I also just want to chronicle all this for my own personal interest. I have tried in the past to keep a written journal and failed miserably every time. Here's hoping that the added incentive of an audience will inspire me to keep writing!
As an aside: I had never stopped to consider that we were an infertile couple. My husband has 3 wonderful kids (feels like 7 when they start making noise!), and there is no reason to suspect anything is wrong with me. It's just that vasectomy. It's not "infertility" when it's self-inflicted, is it? Apparently, yes. That's what my ob/gyn says anyway, and he's a trustworthy sort of fellow.
Another aside: Sometimes it really bothers me that a decision made in a previous marriage can affect me so physically and deeply. It's life-changing, knowing you cannot possibly have a child without "assistance". But that's life and I just have to get on with it.
I have heaps of things to write about, so I hope you will find reading it useful. Stay tuned.
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