Santa Goes High Tech

This weekend we completed a right of passage: LMH's first trip to see Santa. I was concerned that it might not happen, though...or at least that Daddy might not be joining us. You see, The Hubby hates line. No, actually he despises, detests and HATES lines. Long lines tend to aggravate his anxiety. And, since no one wants that, I end up despising lines, too.  The trouble is that I like the things that happen at the end of long lines...like Santa.

I had been contemplating how we were going to accomplish this might feat for awhile now. So long that we ended up waiting until the week before Christmas to make our first attempt. Probably not the smartest plan. There are two malls near us with "traditional" Santas. I figured that I could wait in line with LMH and call Hubby when our turn was near. Effective, but not exactly fun for anyone.

There were two other options, though. Northpark Mall in Dallas has a ticket program (think FastPass for Santa), where you go when the mall opens, get your ticket and then hang around (or come back) when it's your time period. That seemed like a good option except for two things: 1) It's a bit of a trek into downtown Dallas from our BFE north suburb, 2) we're not exactly the "be at the mall at 9am" type.

The next option was "The Big Guy" at The Villages at Allen. The Villages do something truly ingenious! They have an online queuing system for Santa. You go online to their website, check the overall line time, enter your cell number or e-mail and your done! They send you text or e-mail updates as you get closer to the front of the virtual line. When there are 15 people ahead of you, they tell you to head back to the North Pole.

At first, I wasn't 100% sold on this idea because "The Big Guy" isn't in full dress regalia...he's what I refer to as a"workshop" Santa. He wears Christmas shirts that his wife sews for him (yah, his real wife, not Mrs, Klaus) with suspenders and his normal red pants with white puffy trim.  I got over it, though, because I started reading reviews from past years online. He's the most realistic, genuine, kindhearted mall Santa I've ever seen!

And, come on...the no line thing! We were so there! Why on earth don't more malls come up with better Santa systems.  It seems to me that more shopping gets done while your waiting for your turn than if you were waiting in line. Oh well! It's their loss. We've found our family Santa!

As for how Harris did with his first Santa visit? Well, there weren't any tears, but there weren't any smiles either! I was pleased with how the pictures turned out, though. His expression is priceless!

The Donor Discussion

I started writing this post a few weeks ago as a way of putting this idea to rest.  I thought that if I wrote it down, I could release it.  That's sort of how writing works for me.  I file it away here so that I can start to process it in the scope of the rest of my day/life/journey.  Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't.  This time, it's still haunting me.

From the beginning, long before we ever knew for sure that we were dealing with IF, back when we just knew that the odds were high based on family history, we said that all options would be on the table.  We've always been open to adoption, if it came to that, but it was always imagined as the last option on the journey. 

I had never really thought or considered donor sperm until we got the official IF diagnosis and I started reading blogs and message boards.  I brought it up once then.  In the beginning, before the full scope had set in for Hubby, he had indicated that it was something we could consider.  In his mind, it was the option before adoption.  After all biological means failed, we'd try donor, then adoption. 

That made sense to me, too, for awhile.  But, when it came time to actually start seriously moving toward IVF, I couldn't help but wonder if donor sperm was a "better" choice for us.  At first my definition of better was comprised mostly of the fact that it was so much cheaper.  I brought the subject up again after our trip to the RE last week.  Hubby pretty quickly said that he'd like to try IVF first.  So be it, I thought, and I wanted to file the though away.  Thought considered and rejected.  Move on.  After all, it wasn't my biological link we'd be foregoing.  How far could I really push it?  Biology trumps cost any day.

But, I haven't been able to file it away.  It's sort of lurking in the outer recesses of my thought patterns lately.  I can't process it.  If it were just the cost differential, I think I could lay the thought to rest.  To be honest, Hubby and I haven't always spent our money as wisely as we should.  If there were any place to overspend, this certainly seems like it.  There's more to it than that, though.

Remember in this post when I talked about the moment when my mother-in-law vividly remembers hoping beyond hope that her sons would never have to experience the pain that depression had caused her and my father-in-law?  I know that there's no hard evidence that depression is genetic, but Hubby's family may be the case study.  Looking back, my in-laws are now fairly certain that Hubby's grandpa suffered from chronic depression.  My father-in-law, brother-in-law and, of course, Hubby do, as well.  Clearly, there's a prevalence of depression on the male side of the lineage. 

And, this isn't the "pop a Prozac" and it's gone kind.  This is the "take multiple anti-depressants and still suffer" kind.  This is the "deal with it everyday" kind; the "sometimes depression rules our life" kind.  I talked in that same post about both the toll the depression takes and the strength we gain from it.  But, the bottom line is that I still wouldn't wish it on anyone, let alone our own son.

I feel like we have an opportunity to end the cycle.  I don't want us to have to wonder if our future son will have to battle the same internal demons or if his future wife will have to carry the same burden.  I know there's no guarantee.  The donor could have a similar prevalence in his family.  But, if we have the opportunity to try, shouldn't we take it?

So, I feel like I should bring up the subject again with Hubby this weekend.  I feel like I should lay this new wrinkle out for discussion.  I struggle with how to bring it up, because it's one thing to say that it's a cost factor.  That's something we can work through.  It's something entirely different to point out that his very biology is the problem.  And, the thought of pointing that out, though it will be more of a reminder than a surprise, pains me. 

Then, I struggle with how we compromise on this.  It's not my genetics, my biological link, at stake.  If he still says he'd rather not, at least not now, am I ok with that?  I feel like I can only push it so far.  But, how far?  And, what are the ramifications of choosing donor?  I can't even begin to imagine all of the issues that we'd have to consider, both now and later. 

I'm not even sure how ready I am to put that option on the table, but it seems like something we should consider before moving to IVF and I'm sure we haven't given it its fair share of discussion time yet.  Here's the running list of pros and cons in my head:
Pro
Chance to end the cycle of depression
Lower cost

Con
No biological link to Hubby

That con is a huge one.  I just can't process it.  Biology may trump cost, but when biology is the issue, we find ourselves back at square one.

So, blog friends, I need your help.  I know that many of you have considered, conceived, or are moving down the path of using donor sperm.  How did you decide?  How did you broach that conversation with DH?  What did your pros and cons list look like?

The age of social networking = A punch in the gut

Seriously, Faceb00k sucks sometimes.  Sure, I love Faceb00k for keeping in touch with people I may not otherwise talk to.  I can follow the lives of high school and college friends from the 30,000 feet up perspective...only what they want to share.  That's all fine and well until one of the following two things happen:

1) Someone you're really close to and are used to sharing big news over the phone with takes to posting really big news (both pregnancy and non-pregnancy news, though not the BFP) on Faceb00k.  It feels a bit like a punch in the gut to suddenly feel demoted, without explanation, to the ranks of just another Faceb00k friend.  That's not really how it is, because she called later, but that's how it feels to find out that her world is falling apart and then miraculously back together by FB rather than a call. 

2) When one of those long lost, but then found via FB, friends who you haven't talked to in the better part of a decade posts that they're expecting twins.  I'm not sure why that feels like such a punch in the gut, but man does it ever.

I've also realized that I find myself always thinking "I wonder how they got pregnant?" these days when someone announces a pregnancy in real life.  And, that's especially true if it's twins.  I find that to be a weird thought.  And, even weirder still that if the answer is that they conceived those blessed twins via IUI/IVF or after a long time trying, it wouldn't feel like a punch, maybe just a tiny soft blow.  Or, more likely like a soft nudge, a gentle squeeze of the shoulder, or a big hug...a hug that only someone who's battled IF could give.  The understanding and hope that only someone who's beaten IF can share.  Unfortunately, the 30,000 feet up perspective that FB provides can't tell me that.  And, it seems somehow inappropriate to message the college friend I haven't spoken to in ages to ask. 

I just wish that I didn't feel like the wind got knocked out of me every time I log onto FB these days.  It seems that the vast majority of my FB friends are pregnant or already have at least one child.  In fact, Hubby added another college friend a few weeks ago and her and three kids greeted him from her profile picture.  The thought that someone we went to college with, not all that long ago, already has three kids.  WOW!  Clearly, they have super swimmers on their side.  Sheesh!  A month or so ago I was on a self-imposed FB break...might be time for another.

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Of course, I'm not faulting anyone for posting those things on FB.  I'm sure we'll do the same when our turn comes.  However, I have noted that my friends who dealt with IF use a lot more care in their FB posting.  They don't log their delivery minute-by-minute via FB, for example (and, yes, I actually had a "friend" do that a few months ago).  I will certainly have a more careful perspective on my FB posting taking a cue from those friends, as well.

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In happier news, the sun is shining here (all day even) for one of the first times since the first of October.  Likewise, the renewed sunlight and a medicine change have done wonders for Hubby in the last few days.  That's a huge relief.  It's easy to forget just what an effect lack of sunlight can have on him.  And, it all serves as a great reminder of why we left MN.  Luckily half a month of partly/mostly cloudy doesn't happen in TX very often.  But, it happens for most of the winter in MN.  I'll say it again...Good riddance MN house!

Busy planning for Halloween (we have a giant shindig at work!) and trying to stay busy in the wait for the intial RE consult on 10/26.  Almost there!

Friday Frustrations

I wish I could say that I was feeling great headed into the weekend. Unfortunately, I'm feeling frustrated. A lot of things are adding up to create that feeling. And, even though there's a great deal of hopeful, "almost there" sort of things going on right now, I can't seem to get past my general feeling of annoyed frustration on this dreary, rainy Friday.

House
We were supposed to be the proud owners of only one house, officially, as of today. Instead, we have two houses for one more week. The closing on our MN house got moved to next Wednesday. Not the end of the world. It's still on the calendar and it's a bank issue, not a buyer issue. Still, it's annoying. After 17 months on the market, though, what's one more week?

RE
I posted earlier this week about my call to schedule the initial consult at the RE. I talked with the new patient coordinator on Wednesday afternoon and got an appointment set-up for the morning of 10/26. Awesome! We wouldn't have to wait too long to get a plan. Unfortunately, I woke up in a startle on Thursday morning when I realized that somehow I'd failed to realize that I had an all day meeting at work on 10/26 and would probably need to reschedule. I immediately called the coordinator yesterday morning...still haven't heard back. I imagine she's off and I'll here from her on Monday. I was making every effort to schedule the appointment for first thing in the morning or last thing in the evening to appease my office. But, I have sense decided that I'll be much better able to participate in my boss's baby shower on November 5 if we have a plan by then. Maybe that's silly, but I think it will help I'm annoyed at myself for scheduling it on the 26th in the place and growing increasingy annoyed that I haven't heard back (not at the coordinator, just in general that I can't get it confirmed on our calendars).

Depression and TTC
And then there's the big one. DH and I had the talk last night. He's right in the middle of a lot of non-TTC-related medical issues that investigating the MFI sort of dug up. He's dealing with severe fatigue...to the point of not being able to successfully complete once normal, daily tasks. Now that his hormone levels are back to normal (testosterone and estradiol are in normal ranges per the blood work we received from the uro this week!), his thyroid panel came back clear and his CPAP (for sleep apnea) has been cleared as working normally, we're beginning to wonder if it has something to do with his depression meds. The very thing we were hoping to avoid messing with now needs to be messed with. So, we had the talk...should we hold off on "advanced-TTC" until he's feeling better or continue to pursue getting him "back to normal" at the same time as we move forward with the RE. We decided to move ahead, but reevaluate before we start any treatments. A perfectly sensible resolution...but, I'm finding myself annoyed at the conversation in the first place. The depression, making it's presence known in yet another way, annoys me to know end. I digress and will save it for the next post.

To end on a lighter note...my mom is flying in this weekend. We're going to the Texas State Fair. I'll report soon on fair oddities (er, delicacies?) like fried butter and fried peaches and cream. Maybe tomorrow's feeling of "painfully stuffed" will outweigh (no pun intended) today's annoyance.

The Baggage we Bring to the Island: Part 1

Like father, like son...

In most families, it goes something like this:

"I see Xavier got your throwing arm!" Like father, like son!

"Aidan looks like quite a character, just like his dad!" Like father, like son!

"Caleb seems good with the ladies, too!" Like father, like son!

In our family, the phrase takes on a slightly different connotation. My mother-in-law has a painfully vivid recollection of a moment driving home from the doctor, after my father-in-law was diagnosed with severe chronic depression, where she hoped beyond hope that her sons would never have to know that same anguish. She has an equally vivid memory of a similar wish that her sons would never have to experience the social stigma and myriad of complications (emotional and otherwise) that accompany male factor infertility.

Those particular wishes were left unfulfilled. God had a different plan, fate if you will, that only years later came into focus. Sometimes she apologizes to me for the genetic cards my husband (and I through marriage) was dealt. Having experienced both depression and MFI first hand, she wouldn't wish it on anyone, least of all her own son. Having only begun to walk a few steps in her shoes, I couldn't agree more.

But there's more to it than that. What I already know from the years we've spent battling my husband's depression is that sometimes the depression takes everything you've got. It sucks us dry and leaves us marooned on the shores of a desert island. Sometimes he forgets that we're together on the island and that's just one of the many reasons it's so painful. But, when we find each other again and are there together, battling the endless baking sun and the battering waves, we're okay....eventually we make it back to the mainland, and we're stronger for it. Much, much stronger. Infertility is every bit the same. And, just like my mother-in-law, I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. But, I know that we'll be better for it. We'll be a stronger couple, "better" parents, and a more grateful family.

It's also true that genetics isn't the only thing that determines our fate. Personality plays a role, too. When we received our first SA results (via a phone call to me from my OB/GYN), I was devastated. But, I was told that I had to survive on the island by myself for awhile. From their past experience, both the nurse and my mother-in-law told me not to tell my husband. "Let it come from the doctor," they said, "He'll take it better."

When my father-in-law was given similar news in the late 1970s, the urologist used the "s-word": sterile. Furthermore, they were also told that they would never have biological children. Social stigma and ego proved to be too much. He was beyond livid, but over time that anger transitioned into his first diagnosed chronic depression episode. I was warned to expect a similar reaction, though it would be far from our first experience with depression.

But, this was not like father, like son.

My husband is remarkably okay with our MFI because we have a plan. I'm grateful for his calm and for the fact that he does not tie his sperm count, motility and morphology to his own self-worth. At the same time, it turns the tables a bit. I'm left as the one struggling to find the other on the marooned island. Such emotional extremes are hard to process...how can he feel as strongly about starting our family as I do when remains so even keel about it? But, I know that he shows his concern and caring by agreeing to the SA so early, by going to the specialists, by being my shoulder to cry on and never judging my emotions.

What I heard at the urologist appointment this week was that our odds of needing ART to get pregnant are extremely high. I expected to hear that, but it was (and is) still jarring. It still unnerves me and causes me to mourn the loss of the "quick and easy" conception that so many others around me are experiencing.

What my husband heard was that we can and will get pregnant, it’s just a matter of how. And, that's all he needed to hear. I'm grateful that his perspective is often my shelter on the island...that what depresses him, doesn't me and that what depresses me, doesn't him.

Fate and genetics. They don't live in isolation. I still believe that God only gives us what he knows we can handle. As it turns out, we were given some genetic issues to overcome. But, we were also given the perfectly balanced personalities to weather the island storm until we can overcome them. The irony is not lost on me...and I'm grateful.

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Thanks to Mel for writing her post "I Watched Funny People and What I Learned about MFI" about the unique kinds of baggage that accompany an MFI diagnosis. I've appreciated the many responses left by others experiencing the same baggage. Please head over to read her post and the insightful responses!

Part 2 will explain why I (we) choose to talk about our journey through depression and MFI when so many others do not. The stigma that goes along with talking about MFI is another piece of luggage to add to the pile.