Choices

February 5th, 2010

There is an interesting talk on TED dealing with how too many options have a negative impact on happiness. It’s more difficult to select a salad dressing when you have a vast array available at your local supermarket. With all those options your expectations are extremely high, and when your choice fails to be perfect, there’s the nagging suspicion that you could have done better, so you are less likely to be happy with your choice. We had a meeting with our fertility doctor yesterday, and I’m feeling like I understand that better.

We could try IVF again. The doctor is surprised / concerned we have not yet been successful, but there is no outstanding reason to wave us off another attempt.

We could try a donor egg. The age of M’s eggs is a factor, and none have successfully implanted. The doc thinks this is our best chance to get M pregnant.

We could try donor sperm. The advantage here is this is a less complicated / expensive procedure, and we could take a few tries at it.

We could do IVF with a surrogate (with or without implanting M at the same time). This increases our chances, but clearly adds complexity, and affects other people’s lives.

We could give up fertility treatments and carry through with the adoption process we have started. This opens up a whole new series of choices: age, race, nationality.

Each choice has different benefits, risks, costs, success rates, and schedules. On top of all that are some serious and hard to answer personal questions about what having a child is all about, what is important, how badly does M want to be pregnant, and how do we feel about biology. We will have to make a choice from all those options, and it’s a decision with a lot of variables. It’s overwhelming. It really is. I have less of an idea about what we should do than I did before the meeting.

If you got pregnant by sharing a bottle of wine and an orgasm. Nice work. I’m envious.

The paradox of choice – TED

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Autism Diagnosis

February 1st, 2010

My sister wrote an article about diagnosing autism. I would recommend the read. It’s great, and maybe important.

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iPad

January 29th, 2010

I’m a geek. I love technology and design, and an electronic book reader sounds like a cool idea. Here’s the thing though.

Revolutionary Paper and Ink Technology. Read in the tub! Read by direct and blinding sunlight. Read by candlelight.

Unlimited Battery Life. No car adapter, no plug-ins, no power requirements at all.

Sustainable. Made with 100% non-toxic renewable materials. Completely recyclable.

Portable. Fits in your carry-on, and no pesky security checks.

Affordable. Leave it sitting on your beach towel while you swim. Forget it at the hotel, on the bus, or lend it to a friend and never get it back. Good for any budget.

Almost indestructible. Impervious to sand and dust. No ports, components, or screens to clog or malfunction. Leave it in a hot car. Bend it in half. Run over it with your car. Throw it at the pavement with all your strength.

Lifetime Upgrades! You can’t find a floppy drive to open a WordPerfect file from twenty years ago, and if you do, software will fail to open the file, or render it unreadable. Our revolutionary technology opens after hundreds of years just as easily as day one.

Books. The oldest, greatest thing!

The geek in me is always tempted by new technology, but eBooks have so many inherent flaws. In many important ways, they are entirely inferior to a $2.50 dog eared paperback.

On the other hand, my sister is giddy with excitement because this $500 technology will significantly improve the life of my autistic nephew. Other touch screen technology developed specifically to assist autistic kids with communicating run upwards of $10,000. She says this $200 app and an iPad beat them all.

Soldier stories, movies, and technology reviews!? I’ll eventually get back to obsessing over fertility, adoption, and kids, for those interested in such things.

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It Might Get Loud

January 28th, 2010

Lead guitarists Jimmy Page (The Yardbirds and Led Zeppelin), The Edge (U2), Jack White (The White Stripes and The Raconteurs) discuss the electric guitar, their influences, and the origins of their music. It’s a fascinating look into the minds of the creators of iconic sounds. If you consider yourself a fan of any of those bands I’d recommend the rental.

80% Rottentomatoes

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Ultimate Soldier

January 25th, 2010

possible_careersI finally finished this story which I have been publishing in increments. I’m actually quite pleased with it.

Read more... »

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The Plan

January 18th, 2010

When does The Plan stop being The Plan? We anticipate, create visions, project into the future, it’s a uniquely human curse. When The Plan fails to mesh with real life do you revise it, abandon it, or create a new one?

When we first started In Vitro Fertilization we secretly entertained notions of an easy home run. IVF overcame the vasectomy, which was the only hurdle we foresaw, and we’ve had excellent news at every step, except, of course, the final result. We have not decided if we will continue with the process.

Science provides other options. The doctor has suggested a surrogate, and to my great shock, we’ve had several volunteers. I’m still trying to get my head around the idea. It seems, extreme, and it involves other people in a process we’ve found to be stressful and highly emotional. No decisions here either.

The initial stage of the adoption process is a report that takes up to half a year to complete. We are going to get started on that in case it is what we decide to do. It’s always been our back-up plan.

The Plan still is. Same destination, different route.

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An Infertility Love Letter

January 7th, 2010

ivf_heartI’ve been surprised to learn that everyone has fertility issues, or has a connection to someone who does. For my wife and I, last year was dominated by a pursuit of pregnancy. I thought I would start this new year by sharing some observations about that.

We decided to be open about what we were doing and how it was going. That’s been a positive thing for us. This process is difficult enough without having to maintain a double life, but even if you choose not to talk to family or friends, try a professional. We both went to counseling, and I’d recommend the process. Infertility generates anger and heartache in significant quantities. Talk to someone, it helps.

You can do everything right, and still not win. That’s a tough pill to swallow but that doesn’t make it any less true. Do what you can, and let go of what you can’t control, which is almost everything.

A positive attitude all of the time is not required. If wishing was what it took, we’d all be pregnant. It’s okay to feel angry, frustrated and hopeless. Stop beating yourself up over it.

Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Your situation is worse than some, but better than most. Self pity is a comfortable place to wallow, for awhile, but don’t settle in.

You are not what people have in mind when they plan (or don’t plan) to get pregnant. No one is getting pregnant to spite you. I’m sure that’s what if feels like, but it’s not true. And they are not trying to tell you in a way that upsets you. I’m sure it feels like that too, but people don’t like to keep secrets from their loved ones, and it’s tough to know what the right words are.

We had a “State of the Union” meeting with our fertility doctor. My perception of our conversation varies significantly from my wife’s.

I heard the doctor say:

“It could be, that despite having plenty of good news along the way, that we have simply been unlucky, but we must also reconsider other possibilities. I’ve never been thrilled with the thickness of your endometrium (uterine lining) and my gut feel is that may be a contributing factor.”

Michelle heard:

“This is your fault. You have substandard equipment. You have let us all down. In summary, you suck.”

Faulting yourself because the lining in one of your organs is a few millimeters too thin, or a funny shape, or missing all together, makes no sense. You have freckles, or straight hair, or your second toe is longer than your big toe. These are not things you can attribute blame to. They simply are. You can fit that into whichever philosophies you hold. It may be random chance, fate, karma, predetermination, or the will of God. No matter which is true, there’s not much you can do about it. This is not your fault.

I’ve read many accounts of people that are upset that someone else got pregnant “easily”. This someone just got married, or has only been trying for a year, or hasn’t spent as much money on treatments, or has had fewer procedures. Measuring the relative worthiness of other people’s pregnancies implies that happiness has a price and that your pain, determination, or hope will eventually foot the bill, but you know life doesn’t work that way.

Life’s not fair. Good people die, the rich and famous are rarely deserving, and teenagers get pregnant just by looking at each other. It’s great to rage against the unfairness of it all, but it’s like screaming at a tornado, it feels good, but it doesn’t change anything. Of course it’s not fair, get over it. I don’t say that to trivialize your hurt, but simply because I see no alternative.

Your problems with infertility may end with what you desire, a baby, or this may become one of the major tragedies of your life, but not everyone who experiences a tragedy is made a victim by it. Seek counsel, tell it, write it, paint it, howl it at the moon if that helps. This need not be a fatal blow.

bruises
We men are the supporting cast in this drama. Women take the lead, along with the burdens of that role. I am sure there are other men writing about this somewhere, although we must be a rare breed because I haven’t stumbled upon any of them. So, I find myself in a position I’ve grown accustomed to from my family life, the lone male in a room full of women. I know to resist giving suggestions and advise, but I’m terrible at heeding my own counsel. My intent was not to upset anyone, of either sex, but if I did, I’m sorry, remember, I’m just a dumb boy.

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Just Breathe

December 14th, 2009

Forever on the edge, waiting. Always the promise, never the realization. It feels like I’ve been holding my breath for a year.

Anticipation, excitement, heart break, disappointment, anxiety, worry, frustration. It’s draining. I want off this ride. I want a vacation, a respite from decisions, a postponement on planning, an interlude to breathe deeply.

What the future brings, I will discover tomorrow. What I have today is more than enough.

Love to you and yours as the year draws it’s conclusion. Be good to one another.

I’m a lucky man to count on both hands
The ones I love,..
Some folks just have one,
Others they got none, aw huh,..

Just Breathe – Pearl Jam

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Twat Pills

December 4th, 2009
Beautiful brunette in a black dress and high heels

“I’m trying to think of a way to write this story so you will let me tell it.”

When I say this to my wife, she is standing over a mirror, with a foot on either side. I’d add, “in a compromising position,” but that’s redundant. You can’t straddle a mirror in a prudish way. It certainly doesn’t help matters that she is applying vaseline.

Normally, laughing would not be my response. I’d be too busy congratulating myself on marrying this girl, however, this is not what it looks like. It’s rare you can use that expression and mean it.

There are a lot of drugs involved in In Vitro Fertilization; vitamin and mineral supplements, hormones, and drugs designed to enhance, suppress, or encourage things in her body. An alarm rings six times a day. Everytime it does, she has to inject a liquid into her stomach, or take a pill. Some of these pills she can swallow, and some she has to take inter-vaginally, she has to insert them. Why the hell the vagina needs to consume this medicine in such a direct fashion I don’t know. I’ve already established I’m no gynecologist.

Every eight hours she puts two pills up her, and that’s the only thing that goes up there for two months, if you get my drift, which you must, I’m not being subtle. An orgasm contracts all sorts of muscles, as some of you may have noticed, and that risks a pregnancy. All that equipment is dedicated to other projects at the moment. For more than three months it’s off limits. You can bet that isn’t on the brochure for In Vitro Fertilization.

So, we have some time on our hands, which leads to some restless nights. One evening my wife looks over at me laying in bed and says, “We should shave you from head to toe. Everything except eyebrows and hair.”

“Yah?”

“Sure. What do you think?”

“I think we’d have to be pretty bored on a Saturday night.”

Thankfully, it hasn’t come to that, but we had a good laugh, and it’s important to remember to do that. This process is hard. There is a lot of anxiety, heartache, and stress. If you can’t find some humor in it, you have to fill the space with other emotions, and that’s rarely better. This is why, when her alarm goes off, she announces, “Time for Twat Pills.”

There is so much going on that we had to make up a calender with the dosages and procedures, which change every couple of days. As each of the six alarms goes off and she injects, inserts, or ingests a medicine, we cross it off the calender.

I saw her swallowing her vitamin so from the kitchen I yell upstairs, “I’M CROSSING OFF VITAMINS.”

“OK. AND TWO O’CLOCK TWAT.”

“OH. YOU DID THOSE?”

“WHAT? TWAT?”

“YAH.”

“YAH, I DID THOSE.”

Maybe that sounds strange to you. In truth, it’s lost all meaning for us now. It’s just another noun. Seriously, have about a dozen of those conversations and see if the words “Twat Pills” doesn’t start to settle into the decor.

Which brings us back to the mirror and the vaseline. As I said, it’s not what it looks like. These pills she inserts, the Twat Pills, they slowly melt, and well, the vagina is not Tupperware, it leaks. So she’s having trouble staying dry, and in what could only be considered a tragic irony, she has diaper rash.

The most valuable aspect of a sense of humor is the ability to laugh at yourself. You end up taking a lot of unexpected roads in life, at least if you are doing it right, and it’s often scary and unpleasant, but if you squint your eyes right, it’s a little funny too. So my wife and I have a good laugh, and I tell her that I love her, and that it is a shame that she will never let me tell this story.

Good response to my request for more “favorite clicking”. We’ve got some movement on the Reader Favorite board. Nice job folks. Thanks.

We find out the results of this IVF round next week. We both feel a bit reserved about it. We are trying to avoid disappointment by attempting to not get excited in the first place, which works about as effectively as you might expect.

Michelle beats herself up for not being the personification of positivity. So she’s feeling bad, about how she’s feeling. This whole process is a real mind fuck. Fingers crossed.

I’m still working on the story about what an awesome soldier I was. I’m having trouble though, it keeps getting longer, and I don’t have an ending (that’s good), so that might be next week, or not.

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Hopeful

November 27th, 2009

embryos
How do you feel?

Hopeful.

Me too.

More mellow this time though.

Me too.

Because we are more prepared for it not to work?

Maybe.

Ya.

I think we are kidding ourselves. It will still be terrible to hear “No”.

Ya. Happy sticky thoughts.

I love you.

I am disappointed, in you, quite frankly, dear reader. Many people told me they had a good laugh at me being terrified, but no one is voting for favorites. Clicking that little heart lets me know what worked and what didn’t, and it helps new people find things I wrote that don’t suck. If you read something here that you think qualifies to be put into that category, I would appreciate it if you would click the favorite button . I feel better now that we’ve had this talk.

I’m writing a story entitiled “Twat Pills“, about our fertility experience. I suppose I’m letting you know for two reasons. One is that some people may find that word offensive to some degree. The other is that I think it’s a funny story, so if the word doesn’t bother you, then you might get a giggle out of it. In either event, you can avoid/anticipate it as you see fit.

Happy Thanksgiving southern neighbours.

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Spiders

November 20th, 2009

Pound for pound there’s nothing as scary as a spider. What would you rather fight, a 200 pound dog, cat, man, gorilla, or spider? Of course, that’s not fair. A gorilla that big is normal, but if you look outside your window and see a spider the size of a labrador retriever, then shit has gone seriously sideways, you are trapped in a Stephen King novel. Still though, spiders, you don’t want a big one on your face. I think we can all agree on that.

There are several formidable arachnids in our back yard. The biggest of the brood has proportions that match those of Shelob. Low and squat with a large dangerously colored abdomen. After wandering into its thick clinging web one night I instituted a strict “daylight only” policy on compost deposits. He’s stationed just above, an ideal spot to feast on flies, and one might assume, unwary home owners.

spider

The smallest of our backyard dwellers

At dinner this evening, my wife Michelle suddenly pointed at me with a look on her face that said, “What’s that?” Unfortunately, I interpreted it to be, “What’s that!” Nervously, I took a quick swipe at my face, and when I did, I felt something move, so I slapped at my face with purpose, but still didn’t come away with anything. It would be fair to say that I now clubbed my head frantically in abject terror as I fell off my chair.

I over reacted. That’s clear now. A weightless fiber was stuck on my lip and on the end of that, a small piece of my dinner. When I turned my head I started it swinging, and that was what I felt move. My attacker was poached Sole.

Michelle laughed so hard she couldn’t catch her breath. Had she been drinking, it would have squirted out her nose, instead her mouth full of food took the same route. She was forced to alternate her pointing and laughing with choking and gasping for air. Which proves my point, spiders are dangerous, even imagined ones.

The difference between utility and utility plus beauty is the difference between telephone wires and the spider web. – Edwin Way Teale

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Vasectomy

November 13th, 2009

I have been asked to share my perspective on vasectomies, and not simply because I have had two of them. I also got an infection following the second one, which made for a funny story, but I narrowly averted loosing one of my testicles. Then my wife and I changed our minds, and decided to have kids, so to secure my sperm a doctor extracted it with a needle. I have lengthy and unique experience in the area, is my point.

My road to a vasectomy started just like everyone else’s, with sex. “The Pill” reduced my wife’s libido to a point where birth control became superfluous, so we eliminated those, and our haphazard use of condoms felt like gambling. The list of solutions to avoid pregnancy is not long. Abstinence is not on our list, and the rhythm method works really well as long as you are comfortable having up to eight children. That left surgical options, and quite simply, those are less complicated for men, with fewer risks. So, I decided to get a vasectomy.

It’s a simple procedure. I don’t want to be flippant about this, but if you are able to be clinical, there’s not much to it. A local anesthetic and about twenty minutes in a doctor’s office. It takes longer to change the oil in my car.

Here’s the rub; low risk, is not no risk. In a minority of cases problems develop. Infection, inflammation, and chronic pain are all potential consequences. Not to mention that men with vasectomies have been known to father unexpected babies. However, in the majority of the cases, once you’ve calmed down from having someone cut open your scrotum, the only result is tenderness for a few days, and of course, sterility.

It seemed to work just like that for me, at first. More than a year after the operation I developed a complication. I’ll avoid medical terminology, what am I a doctor? The only detail that is relevant to my story is that sex became uncomfortable, or rather, I was unable to perform my “big finish” without some accompanying pain. Unless you are into some pretty specific fetishes, testicular pain during ejaculation is not desirable, so I was intent on getting that fixed.

The remedy was to cut out the old vasectomy and do another one. This was a more involved operation requiring general anesthetic, still low risk, but once again I won the “kicked in the nuts” lottery. I developed a serious infection following the surgery that put me in the hospital with a fever and very specific swelling. I made it to the other side of that sterile, without pain, and thankfully, with everything still in place.

forrestThen I decided I wanted to have children. Which I can’t adequately account for, but that’s what happened. A friend recently asked me about my inexplicable change of heart. “Well,” I said, “no one has ever accused me of being indecisive.” In whichever direction I’m going, I’m running, like Forrest Gump.

My road to sterility was definitely more harrowing than most, but I’m not unique in wanting to change paths. Vasectomies are reversible, with a good success rate, but it is not something I looked into. As you might imagine my internal debate about further surgery anywhere near my entertainment equipment went something like this, “Not a fucking chance.”

Instead, I elected to have a needle inserted into my scrotum to extract sperm from the source, which I know doesn’t sound any better. My wife and I agreed to try In Vitro Fertilization (IVF), for which the doctors need sperm, and more than a plastic cup and happy thoughts were required for me to participate. I’ve written about this elsewhere, I almost passed out, but other than that, it went fine.

To the poor guys who have been cringing since paragraph one; I’m done talking about terrible things that can happen to your balls. I have a bunch of sperm frozen, awaiting the chance to unleash my progeny on the world, and my reproductive equipment can go back to being entirely recreational, which was the point when I started this whole debacle. All’s well that ends well.

Would I have the vasectomy again? Probably. It was the right decision at the time. If I had all the above information in advance, or had an inkling I was going to change my mind, clearly I would have made better decisions, but you can say that about anything.

Bad luck magnified an error in judgement, twice, but hell, it’s a risk every time you get out of bed, and sometimes you get the short straw. Thankfully, I’m not a typical example. My only advise is to consider your options, perhaps more carefully than I, then pick a direction, and start running.

This article was written after prodding by Angie, one of the ladies at ivfdiaries.com, who asked me to write about my experiences, and opinion, on vasectomies.

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