Fertility Options Coach

For more than 17 years, Mother’s Day was one of the worst days of the year for me. It is an in-your-face reminder that I can’t seem to manage something that 15 year olds do in the back of cars every day. This article was written before my daughter was born. I have included it without major edits since it reflects what it feels like to be in the darkness of infertility without any way of knowing when the light will come.

Two weeks ago I was staring at what must be my hundredth pregnancy test, willing the second line to appear. “Please God, this time, let me be pregnant. I can’t take another failure.” I had been muttering these words for the last two weeks. When that one lonely line appeared on the test, I told myself it was ok. I’d make it through this, again.

My husband and I were on our way back from a conference on polycystic ovarian syndrome (PCOS). PCOS is one of the reasons I am in this infertility boat. I started driving north out of Arizona. About 20 miles of highway flew under our wheels before I was forced to pull over when the road started floating in my tears. My husband drove for the next three hours as I cried myself to sleep, woke and cried some more. My brain said we could, and would, try again. My heart felt as exposed and desolate as the wind-sculpted red cliffs around us. The twisted sagebrush desperately sought moisture from the desert soil. I wondered if my womb was as desolate as the sun baked clay. Did a fertilized egg seek that frantically to find sustenance within my body—and fail?

By nightfall the sight of red blood silenced any fantasies that the test might be wrong. It was more than just menstrual hormones that kept me in tears over the next week. Just days before the insemination we learned that we would never have a baby without help—and expensive donor sperm. I know that our financial and emotional stamina is limited, so each attempt feels like my only chance—even though I know it isn’t. I know that even if we run out of fertility options that we will someday have enough saved for an adoption and we’ll probably even find an agency that will give us a baby despite my husband’s health. Knowing this doesn’t help much. My heart still feels like an empty piñata. I wonder if the next swing will bust it wide open.

I’d already taken an emotional beating long before I started the infertility treatments. Nearly five years ago, while I was still single and living in Virginia, a social worker at a Washington, DC, foster adoption agency told me she was looking for permanent homes for four babies. She promised me that if my file was complete in the next 30 days one of those babies would be placed with me. I needed one signature from one person to complete that file. When that person finally followed through and signed that paper after five months, it was too late.

Red tape started to fly between the various agencies and the state border was closed to children from DC. I begged the state of Virginia to place a child with me. I offered to take older children, sibling groups, children of any race, pored over web sites asking about child after child. After 18 months I sold my house. The handpainted clouds still floated over the wild animal border in an unused nursery. I’m not ready to go the public adoption road again and we don’t have the money for a private infant adoption right now.

I’m an active griever. Since I closed the door to that unused nursery I have lived in 5 states, changed careers, written two books, and found a million reasons to smile. No matter how busy I keep myself, my arms stay empty.

I believe we will be parents someday, but each day I struggle to maintain that hope and faith as I see and hear of children who are neglected or abused. When I hear of murdered children or hear a parent explain why they left three small children alone in a car while they ran into a store, I think of the hundreds of infertile women I have talked to over the years I have worked with women who suffer with PCOS. Each time, I pray that these women will each find the peace and healing they need and, if possible, someone to call them “Mommy” next year.

Mother’s day is a tough time for being infertile. Few days are as apt to bring the desire to remain in bed all day with a box of tissues and the remote control. From the time I was diagnosed at 19 through when I was finally pregnant at 36, I sat through more than my share of difficult Mother’s days. Here are some ideas to help you cope if Mother’s day is hard for you.

* Consider skipping family events and doing something else that day. For some, attending a family event with seemingly endlessly fertile family members can be really hard. If these events ae really hard for you, consider letting your mom (or mom-in-law) know that even though you love them, it is just too painful for you to participate so you will see them at another time.

* If you do decide to do your own thing on Mother’s day, consider whether a good walk, a movie, or some other simple event will give you a chance to put your mind on other things. If you are experiencing severe grief or depression, you may not feel like doing much of anything, but you will feel better if you go somewhere and do something. I often spent hard days at a coffee shop or bookstore with my journal. If this is too personal for you to experience in public, consider doing some journal time at home with a treat such as a favorite movie.

* If you must participate in a family event, try to spend some time alone before hand so you can regroup and work through your feelings. If the family always had brunch on Sunday with mom, plan a quiet journal session the night before so you can work through your feelings before you are facing a lot of people.

* Holidays can also be a good time to paint the bathroom or clear the weeds out of the garden. Activities can help lift your spirit and give you a constructive outlet for our stress.

Whatever you choose, keep in mind that while your arms may be empty today, there is always hope for tomorrow. This year will be my first Mother’s day with a child of my own. However, the year before I got pregnant was one of the worst Mother’s days I have had as I was just about to divorce and wondering if I would ever have a baby. Life is unpredictable and this may be your last Mother’s day without a baby.

Foster care agencies are usually in dire need of foster parents. Many agencies are happy to accept single foster parents. While foster care is very challenging, it can bring many rewards.

There are approximately 500,000 children in foster care in the US at any given time. Many of those children will never be able to return to their birth families. Some will be available for adoption, others will stay in the system until they are 18 – when they will be left to their own devices without the supports that a family traditionally offers.

Single foster parenting is challenging. You have no one else to lean on when times get tough – and they will get tough. Children who have been abused or neglected, the vast majority of those in foster care, are often difficult. They may be angry, scared, depressed or numbed out. They may do anything from the typical “kid stuff” to actually hurting people or destroying things. Being a foster parent requires huge wells of patience and love. The rewards can be powerful and unexpected.

If you choose to be a foster parent, be sure to do your research. If there is more than one agency in your area, talk to parents who work with both agencies so you can get a feel for how they handle things. Connect with other foster parents online and in your area as soon as possible. Experience can be vital and when you can learn from those with more experience you will be more likely to have a successful foster care experience.

Be prepared for the agency to question you thoroughly about your marital status and your reasons for being a foster parent. While many agencies welcome single foster parents, they do need to protect themselves and the kids in their care by making sure that you have the right motivations and a good understanding of what you are getting into.

Foster care can be risky, so knowing what you are getting into and how to protect yourself is important. False accusations have harmed many well intentioned foster parents and there are things you can do to reduce your risks.

Do you love someone who is infertile? Whether it is your wife, sister, daughter, or friend, it can be difficult to know how to support them without adding to their pain and confusion. I wish I had access to “Do You Love Someone Who is Infertile?” sooner – it would have helped me so much in explaining infertility to my family and friends.

This book is full of great advice for those who want to help a loved one struggling with infertility. The subtitle really says it all, “What you can do to help her, what to say to support her (and what you should never do or say.”

Fertility and infertility are deeply personal concepts that are publicly evaluated on a daily basis. Those for whom having children comes easily may have a hard time understanding the stress of wanting a baby so fully – and not having any assurance that parenthood will ever come. Even total strangers are quick to comment on whether or not you have kids, how many you have, and even how to have them if you aren’t successful on your own.

Family members and friends who mean well, but are misinformed, may add to the pain with comments that stab at the heart. If you have shared your fertility journey with loved ones, you have likely heard the many pieces of advice (“Are you doing it right? Have you tried a six-pack and the back seat of a car? Just relax and it will happen!”).

This book does an excellent job of explaining how to support an infertile loved one without adding to their pain. How much pain would be spared if every family member and friend of someone suffering from infertility were to read this book? Explaining infertility is so hard. For most people, avoiding an unplanned pregnancy is something they focus on quite a bit. Experts say that over half the pregnancies in the US are unplanned. So, for someone who is used to worrying about getting pregnant – the idea that pregnancy is difficult or impossible to achieve is hard to fathom. For the 1 in 6 couples who struggle with infertility, achieving a viable pregnancy is all-consuming.

There are many references to Christianity here, so be aware of that if it is a problem for you.

Filled with real examples and offering advice on dealing with all aspects of infertility, this is a wonderful resource for anyone dealing with infertility – and all of those who love and care for them.

Julia Leary is a woman with a mission, a little boy, a shopping compulsion and unexplained secondary infertility. Following Julia and her best friend Alex through their baby-journeys was so compelling that I confess to letting a few other things slide while I read “The Waiting Womb” by Jill Sayre. If the cats were really that hungry they’d learn to open the cat food bag themselves.

Sayre does an excellent job of portraying the roller coaster of infertility without becoming maudlin. This book would make a great introduction to infertility for friends and family who want to understand what an infertile couple experiences. Those in the infertility trenches will feel as if they are lunching with a fellow sufferer. I admit to actually laughing out loud and my husband surely tired of, “How true!” quotes about Julia’s relationship with her husband.

Although I am also a self-published nonfiction author, I will admit to a certain amount of prejudice in seeing a self-published novel. The Waiting Womb is a good book that both benefits and suffers a bit from being self-published. An experienced editor would tighten up the story and remove the occasional distracting typo. A typical publishing house might have rejected it based on its subject matter and most certainly would have failed to market it effectively. “Who wants to read about infertility?”

Sayre has a gift for portraying the raw emotions of her infertility struggle, including the belief that there is a God with a higher purpose to be fulfilled in due time. Her style is all meat, no fluff so you’ll find yourself laughing, crying, and possibly losing your appetite at some of the vivid descriptions.

One truly masterful touch is that Sayre lets us see that a successful outcome to infertility treatments may be very, very different than what we imagine we want at the outset. There is more than one possible happy resolution to infertility – and the choice to parent well is a heroic one regardless of how you arrive or with whom you make the journey.

The Waiting Womb