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01/20/2010
Somewhere in this post there is cake, but also angry bees
We are so thrilled to be able to share with you that Ali McMutrie and the children from the Brebis de Saint-Michel de L’Attalaye (BRESMA) orphanage in Port-au-Prince, Haiti, arrived safely at Pittsburgh International Airport a short while ago.
This was posted yesterday at That's Church, which has been serving as a clearing house since the orphanage went into crisis. Of course that's not the end of the story; it's really only begun for the families newly made. And for those who remain in Haiti — people searching for loved ones, people who know those loved ones are lost — who knows what happens next? But I'm relieved to the point of grateful tears to see that this tiny part of the story, at least, maybe the end of these families' beginning, feels hopeful.
Go check out Creating a Family if you're interested in the prospect of adopting from Haiti post-earthquake. It's well worth a read for Dawn's compassionate, balanced take.
On my post about the BRESMA crisis, Amy commented,
I pray that this helps you start a conversation w/ Charlie about "some people believe God can do miracles!" w/ the help of the larger community and all that!
Maybe we all see what we're already looking for. Because you know what's funny? In the BRESMA story I see proof that people create miracles irrespective of God or religion. I don't believe, and I've contributed to relief in Haiti. Atheists, Christians, Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, and for all I know practicing Satanists — oh, Pat Robertson, really? S. Morgenstern begs to differ — are feeling the pull, not necessarily of God but of humanity. And to bring this full circle, some people believe that that's every bit as worthy of humbled awe and gratitude.
Speaking of humility, enough about not-me. I've been playing around with formspring.me, a sitelet that allows people to ask and answer anonymous questions. It's kind of cute, kind of fun, and I was finding it altogether too easy to rattle on in a glib hyperlogorrheic mode about really not much at all.
Like my blog, I suppose, only I was actually updating it.
And then I got this question:
We have been ttc for a long time, had 6 miscarriages and too many rounds of IVF. My shameful secret is in the dead of night I wonder if it is worth it. Is it worth all the shit when you finally have a baby?
It stopped me in my tracks. It's taken me a few days to answer it. First because, ohhh, I am sorry, lady whose name I don't know. I wish everything were different. Then because that there's a question that goes a little beyond "How did you get to be so awesome?" (It's anonymous. I didn't submit that one. You can prove nothing.)
For my part, the answer is easy. Part of my reasoning comes from a place of happiness. I can easily say it's been worth it, because I have the babies. Obvious answer, done and done, and we all lived smugly ever after.
Give me some credit, though. It goes deeper than that; I'm not distilling this to a question of loving my children and being willing to walk on hot coals just for the privilege of pressing the TiVo remote into their covetous hands. It also has to do with my being a few years out from the very worst of it, and while I haven't precisely forgotten, I no longer live it on a daily basis. I can remember that it hurt to be flattened every day by that truckload of pianos stuffed with anvils driven by a swarm of angry bees, but I can't recall the exact sensation. And that's a good thing, in case there's any confusion. I want that for all of us, whether we end up with babies or not. Right now my perspective on what we went through is rather more mellow than it used to be. Walk in the park. A cakewalk, in fact. A piece of cakewalk in the goddamn park, that's what it was, three metaphors mashed into one because I am all about value.
But the other part of my reasoning is a little more bitter to the taste. I believe it was worth it, but I also know I need to believe that. Otherwise what we went through doesn't make any sense. The notion that we could have built our family in other ways, perhaps faster, perhaps through less painful means — well, it'll make you crazy if you think about it too hard.
I'm reminded of what I've read any number of times from people who've adopted, especially after infertility treatment, when they're asked if they wished they'd arrived at adoption sooner. "We had to go through that," they say, "to get exactly this."
I always imagine that said with so much serenity, so much confidence that "exactly this" is the best way, the only right way, things could have turned out for their family. But when I say it I'm a lot less certain, a lot less settled. The fact is, I don't know whether it makes any sense now that we did what we did then. In hindsight, if I'm honest, I'm forced to admit the possibility that we could have been happy with any number of other options, perhaps without so much waste, of time, sanity, and happiness.
But I shy away from that thought, because to suppose that any of it was unnecessary, any part of it inessential to the family we finally became, or that I could have been equally content with other paths, feels like a kind of betrayal, both of the person I was then — who did the best she could, just like I guess we all do — and the children I have now. We had to go through that to get exactly this, and a grand this it is indeed.
So because I did get what I wanted, and because I need to believe there was, in the end, a point to it all, yes, I feel it's worth it. But that's very easy to say, because ours is the happy ending. And I know it's by no means the only answer to a really tricky question.
I wonder how others parenting after infertility feel. What are your thoughts? I'm also interested in knowing what you think — Was it worth it all? Could it have been? — if you didn't have children after trying. Easy to answer or complicated? Does your head, like mine, threaten to explode when you try to consider it?
I look forward to reading your answers, just as soon as I stop laughing at the next question in my queue: "Is breastfeeding worth it?" That one...you know, that one might sit there a while, too.
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That first comment is like saying that if you're not a believer, you're not a moral person with a sense of decency. Any normal person wants to help the people in Haiti, whether they believe in G-d or not. I don't think that having tens or hundreds of thousands of people killed shows any kind of miracle.
Is it all worth it? I don't necessarily think so, and I also have the babies. I actually posted about this on my family blog one time. Someone tried to pull that one on me and I said that I didn't buy it because while we lucked out and got pregnant with P fairly quickly after I was diagnosed with PCOS, we were only planning to give birth once more and then adopt. Adoption was ALWAYS our plan and ironically, we would have been ready to adopt at right about the same time even if we'd gotten pregnant with a second child. There was/is no good point to our infertility because it wasn't going to make us adopt in the first place, it didn't make us choose adoption any faster. It just made the time between starting to TTC again and adopting K frought with pain and uncertainty and depression. K would likely still be our son today, whether we'd given birth to a second child or not.
I remember writing a post once, I think when I was still trying to get pregnant the first time around, about how knowing what I wanted was my superpower. (I move in a very nerdy, X-men-comic-reading crowd where it is not unusual for people to reflect on what their superpower might be.) I still firmly believe that it qualifies as a superpower, knowing what you want and what you are prepared to do to get it. For me it was absolutely, unreservedly worth it. Whether it will be worth it for anyone else is probably something that only they can answer if they can. The ass-vice I tend to give is do what you have to do to not look back ten years from now and think, "If only we'd tried X." Even if I never got my beautiful daughter and my soon-to-be-born little boy it would all have been worth it to me to at least have the peace of mind of knowing that we'd at least tried everything in pursuit of our goal.
Like you, I think it's altogether too easy to say "Yes, it was worth it," when you're sitting on the other side with your babies.
On the other hand, I know that I personally had to go through exactly what I went through (infertility, miscarriage, interrupted adoption) to get to this place, with these children, and be the mom I'm supposed to be to them. I can't speak for anyone else, nor would I try to. But if it had been easy, I would've been a different mom.
And that mom wouldn't be the right one for these kids.
So for me, yeah, no-brainer. Totally worth it. Totally the way it was meant to be for my family. Totally the lessons and experience I personally needed to be ready.
That doesn't make what came before suck any less, nor does it mean I wouldn't pause if I had the opportunity to do it over again. But here we are. Thankfully.
I am asking myself this question right now. Not "was it worth it?" - because our journey toward our two children was not so terrible. but "would it be worth it?" - because if we want to have any more children, we are looking down the barrel of IVF stim, freeze embryos, gestational surrogacy...and if that becomes our path, we're going to have to make the decision hella soon. And as much as we would love all our children, it's harder to think of the difficult path as "worth it" when we already have these two.
Yeah, I'm not too thrilled by that comment either and tend to think more like you. And P.Robertson - Seriously?!? ack. Anyway, about the is it worth it question. We didn't go all the way to IVF, in fact I had enough after the 3rd IUI and was just done. Which is kind of weird because I have unexplained infertility so there's no reason why I wasn't getting pregnant. However, now that we've made it through the homestudy and are waiting for a match, I get that twinge every now and then. "Did we not try hard enough?" Because I don't care what anyone tells you, adoption isn't easy. Not on your psyche, not on your wallet, and not when you have NO IDEA when you are going to become a parent. And then, I whip around and slap myself silly as I remember what a lunatic I was while taking fertility drugs. And for us, we made the right decision.
I have to say, yes, I think it's worth it, for exactly your reasons. It clarified my desire to have a child, it made me think what exactly I was after (a child to love, versus one that had my DNA) and it made me a hugely more empathic, kinder person. And I am grateful for my children in a way I wouldn't be had they come easy; I'm aware of what a miraculous bit of good fortubne
That said, I could have done without all the fucking character building, really. And had I not become a parent by whatever means (either by giving birth or by adoption) I would ahve fund the whole ordeal spectacularly Not Worth It.
(also, please don't think all religious people are like Amy. Some of us are accepting of other's beliefs and spiritual paths, or the right to have none. I didn't come to my faith without a lot of thought and questioning, so I can understand that other people for equally valid reasons may have come to a different conclusion. I disagree, and if you're ever interested in some God talk I'd love to explain why I believe what I do, but I respect your beliefs as valid just as I would expect respect for mine -- and at least some people of faith understand that).
After reading the Power of Now, I started thinking of God as the universe or "the light" or whatever. I think sometimes people believe in God and talk to God and are moved to great acts of humanity through their relationship with God. And, you can replace "God" with "universe" or "light" or even "humanity" and it's all basically the same thing. For me. I guess.
I don't know. I love people who feel called by God to help orphans. I just love them, and I wish I could be more like them. Even if I would say I felt a call from the universe to help orphans, I wish I could be more like them.
What is "worth," anyway? If we knew what we'd have to pay from the outset, then perhaps we could dicuss the precise equivalencies, capitalize our losses over the lives of our kids, and have a clean audit to show when the parenting police come near ("yes, ma'am, I am truly grateful every moment he breathes ma'am... his epic tantrums are like little gifts from heaven! here they are, right here in the net assets column...").
One might also ask: if Haiti re-builds in a way that makes life more liveable for the survivors... HELL no! of course not. Loss is by definition negative, pure and simple absence. My (adopted) kid is a tort reward. Neither guaranteed nor equivalent to anything I paid or suffered. Apples and oranges. Sorry you lost your leg in the war, but here's a house you may or may not have otherwise been able to buy in return.
The only question I can think to ask someone with a shit prognosis and bad luck on top of it is, "how much do you think you can take before it destroys you?" Find your end point, and then with or without babies, move on to your next venture. Adoption, art school, three more shelties, marathon training... whatever you can bear to contemplate utterly and with great elan, because one thing you're sure to lose when the dust settles is your focus.
A corollary: a neighbor's son just left his first semester of college with four incompletes and a schizophrenia diagnosis. But who would point out how nice it was for her that she had 18 years of relative normalcy and success before that happened?
No, no. I don't believe in comparative worth. Or quid pro quo deals between misery and happiness. We love, we suffer, we regroup, we love again. In no particular order, on no particular schedule.
You know bees are anatomically unsuited to flying--it makes no sense that they do. But what do bees care for sense?
[Haven't been in a comments box in a while... were they always this small?]
Looking back on my three years of miscarriages and infertility is like trying to remember a nightmare. I remember crying every day, spending hours gazing out of windows, and daydreaming copiously. I still feel a pang of that profound sadness when I hear from a woman who is trapped in the cycle of hope and disappointment, but for the most part, it's a little hazy.
But I also spent that time finishing a novel, and honing my critical thinking skills by becoming a skeptic. Like Elizabeth, I think I'm a different type of mom than I would have been without infertility. I still marvel at the living, breathing, solid reality of my son. He's here, he's actually here, and this is really happening. I'm a mother. I am so goddamn lucky. This attitude keeps me a lot more patient than I probably would have been, especially when he is being a complete and utter turd.
I, too, think the question "was it worth it?" is simplistic. What I've learned from my experience is that there is no such thing as the "right" decision. There are just different decisions, each with their own consequences. We have no way of knowing what could have been, or if things could have turned out better if we'd done things differently. We work with what we have.
All I know is, I'm happy right now. I laugh a lot and joy comes easily to me. It's much appreciated after its long hiatus. I wish the same for every woman who is still suffering.
Was 5 years of infertility treatments worth having my twin 4-year old boys? That question doesn't even really make sense to me and DOES sorta make my head explode with the variations on the question. I've been out of that world for 5 years almost (wow... just realized how long it's been). Nothing compared to the heart-crushing experiences while trying to get pregnant (3rd IVF was the winner, after 6 failed IUIs and -- obviously - 2 failed IVFs). But like others have said, I absolutely KNOW that I am a better, more compassionate, more aware, less righteous, person now (although that sounds pretty damn righteous, doesn't it?). I'm pretty sure I'm the same mother I would have been if I had had no problem getting pregnant, but I think the experience of being depressed, humiliated, depleted and weak taught me things that I'm very, very thankful for having learned. I don't know how to do the math with how "worth it" that makes the whole experience...
Would I wish it on anyone else? No. Would I do it again? Yes, but only if I knew that I'd come out with my two kids. No, if I wouldn't come out with my 2 kids. So, I guess in the end, the kids DO make it worth it and fuck the damn life lessons...
I'm not sure one can define relative worth in knowing any outcome very easily. Looking back always simplifies things. I can say "sure, if I hadn't done X I wouldn't be so XXY" but it's easy to say it now.
I can't remove the past from the present and the future because it's made me who I am.
I really should just say ditto to all that has been said above. Right after the birth of my first son, everybody kept saying "it was all worth it, wasn't it" and all I could think of in my sleep deprived, depressed, breast feeding challenged brain was "fuck you." Not elegant and really could not be said aloud with any sort of grace. I am very grateful for both my sons but at the time the experience was too close, too raw to contemplate being "worth" something. I remember several times crying and saying that it wasn't worth it while in the depths on infertility and assorted miscarriages.
I do know that when I was having a really hard time with my first son, and breast feeding was kicking my ass, I would rock him in the middle of the night and my mantra was "this is a privilege, this is a privilege." The unspoken part was "that many women don't get."
Now that I have some distance I can say that I am glad I had my sons, and for me if I had to go through that, so be it. But like Amyinmotown, "That said, I could have done without all the fucking character building, really."
The real question for me would be if we weren't successful would it still have been "worth it." For me it would have been because I could say I did what I could but really I say that from a point where it is all Monday morning quarterbacking on my part.
I'm not going to try to answer today's Big Question because in the Infertility Pain Olympics, I'm bringing up the rear.
However, I do want to share with you and all your readers this fabulous response to Pat Robertson, written by my new hero, Lily Coyle, and published in the Jan. 14 Minneapolis Star Tribune:
-------
Dear Pat Robertson,
I know that you know that all press is good press, so I appreciate the shout-out. And you make God look like a big mean bully who kicks people when they are down, so I’m all over that action.
But when you say that Haiti has made a pact with me, it is totally humiliating. I may be evil incarnate, but I’m no welcher.
The way you put it, making a deal with me leaves folks desperate and impoverished. Sure, in the afterlife, but when I strike bargains with people, they first get something here on earth — glamour, beauty, talent, wealth, fame, glory, a golden fiddle.
Those Haitians have nothing, and I mean nothing. And that was before the earthquake.
Haven’t you seen “Crossroads”? Or “Damn Yankees”? If I had a thing going with Haiti, there’d be lots of banks, skyscrapers, SUVs, exclusive night clubs, Botox — that kind of thing. An 80 percent poverty rate is so not my style. Nothing against it — I’m just saying: Not how I roll.
You’re doing great work, Pat, and I don’t want to clip your wings — just, come on, you’re making me look bad. And not the good kind of bad.
Keep blaming God. That’s working. But leave me out of it, please. Or we may need to renegotiate your own contract.
Best, Satan
LILY COYLE, MINNEAPOLIS
I think that when you start asking yourself questions like, "Is it all worth it?" there's a part of you trying to justify everything. Not really asking the question, but more like wondering out loud.
We waited for our youngest daughter for 3 1/2 years, and it's pretty easy to say, "It was worth it!", but the getting there part, waiting for the call, fostering the one placement we took, (because the social workers told us it would help our chances of getting an adoption placement), was hard, and made me question at the time if we really wanted to continue on in our process.
By the time that we got the call for our girl, I was very close to the point of calling the whole thing quits. After all, my husband and I already had 4 children between us, just not one together. But now in hindsight, taking the small break that we took, and getting the call for my baby girl 2 months after the boy went home (completely gut wrenching), I can say whole heartedly, IT WAS ALL WORTH IT. At the time, I know I was questioning my sanity, and wondering if I could continue down the path we were headed.
Now the mother of a 3 1/2 year old, my sanity is shot, but it was all so worth it.
At the risk of sounding trite "Life is a journey, not a destination." Sometimes the journey sucks. While in the trenches of infertility I always felt that I didn't have a choice. We wanted children, tried like hell, and couldn't have them. We went to a doctor, he said "you're sperm don't work, IVF is your only hope". We had no money to adopt, so did IVF. Round after round after round of IVF. We had insurance, very good insurance, so as long as we were willing we could just keep on going...and we did. Then we had twins. Then I was sad and miserable...then it got better. Then we chose to have another, so we went through two MORE rounds of IVF. And so it goes.
Yes, it was, is, worth it. Because life is always worth it. I learned so very much going through infertility, about myself and what I can endure, who my friends are, how wonderful my husband is, the interesting pictures you can find in the wood grain of my bathroom floor while suffering a miscarriage....and yes, even how fun, yeah, I said FUN IVF can be. I actually enjoyed the challenge of mixing meds and doing it right, of getting those fat packages in the mail. And best of all, I discovered this wonderful blog and the blogoshere!
In short, life is its own reward. Always. And isn't it a wonderful life? And now, I have wonderful children too. And if I had never had them? It was still worth trying.
Sorry I offended so many of you, this is why I never post comments...
but...the post from the day before the one about BRESMA shocked me to the core. The thought that kids today as someone commented make it high school without knowing the true Christmas story in america is mind blowing, and not because I think any one one religion is right but because I cant believe it's even possible to go through life not seeing some proof of something greater than yourself, regardless of what you claim that "greater thing" to be. It hurt my heart that so many posting here were willing to let their kids grow up without even questioning if there is something bigger and better out there for them, or rather someone who can help them get through the tough times in their lives (i.e. earthquakes or infertility)
I hate Roberson and wishes he would keep his mouth shut so please dont compare me to him!! I just worry that not keeping an open mind and giving your kids the ability to do so may hinder them in some way from being who they were meant to be. I do not push religion on my kids and really don't want to because I was one of those kids who was made to go to church and because of it got hurt by it. I do think though that we need to teach our kids to be tolerable of others and even go as far as learning about other religions because you cant go bashing them if you don't know all the facts, or rather shouldn't. Tolerable to an extent, no one should have to tolerate pat roberson!
Was it worth it? Yes!!! But again, happy ending (or middle rather) over here.
We married in our early twenties, with plans to give birth a couple times and then adopt a couple times. We bought a little house with a painted nursery, I babysat in exchange for baby items, my husband (21 at the time) worked hard at obtaining and keeping a great job in the corporate world, and we plunged ahead on forming our family, happily announcing to all that within a year they'd be welcoming their new granchild/niece/nephew/friend's kid/etc. That... was not smart. Only 6 months in we KNEW something was wrong, and tests on my husband proved it. We were early twenty somethings with a nursery ready to go and no baby coming along to fill it.
For us, though, the choice was easy. We'd always, ALWAYS wanted to adopt as well so we simply moved ahead with those plans (I say simply because it all seems simple looking back on it, but really, even though it didn't take long to make the choice it wasn't an easy choice at the time). The fact that we hadn't tried fertility treatments actually worked against us in the homestudy process and we had trouble being taken seriously.
It took over a year of heartache, rejections, social workers changing their minds, supervisors yelling at me on the phone, a country starting to change it's laws and a lot of uncertainty. Right after our second wedding anniversary we brought home our oldest son, on his second birthday. That's not to say happy ending started there. We had issues. Lots and lots of trauma induced issues. But we worked through it, the bulk of it anyway. And now we have a smiling, happy, talkative, intelligent and well adjusted 4 year old who tells me every day that I'm his best friend.
Our story continued this past year with another "just over a year" process that should've taken far less time. Again, rejections and problems and second guessing and heart ache and lots of "will it ever happen? I mean, it happened once already, should we just be happy with that and not even hope?" I'm so glad we hoped. So glad we tried. I have a 3 month old dozing on my nap at this very moment. So worth it.
So now that I've put my life story in a comment... Again, yes, worth it. Absolutely, unfailingly worth it. The time preparing for a biological baby when we'd ultimately bring home an Ethiopian toddler? Worth it. The OPKs and HPTs and timing and praying and hoping and crying? Worth it. The crap some of the people we dealt with along the way threw at us? Worth it. If it all hadn't happened EXACTLY as it happened we might not have our wonderful, incredible, most beloved sons. And they are so, so, so worth it.
Only you can decide how much you can stand to try. It really helps to have a line in the sand about when you will stop. The only thing worse than having infertility be part of your life, is having it be your whole life.
I have a hard time saying what a human life is worth, even when talking about infertility treatment. I just don't even know what scale you would use to measure that.
Some interesting comments here.
I - still - feel that here I stand; I could have done no other. I looked neither to right nor left whilst attempting to carry a child to viability. Parenthood was a driving, visceral imperative for me; I never felt compelled to cognitively examine the issue of its worth. At the time, I simply couldn't see beyond, or evaluate anything other than, my own reproductive failures. I was focussed, blinkered, and the notion of ever taking my sights away from my someday-child was anathema.
And then Harry, when he finally arrived, nearly died. When I look back now, the terror of the NICU blots out so much of the agony of failing to have our own child. I'm sure I'll rediscover it only too soon with the forthcoming attempt at number two - but the thought of a failed conception attempt or an early miscarriage does not, at present, deter me. As you wisely say, I'm not living it, except vicariously through other blogs. The thought of another premature birth and a return to NICU, on the other hand, quickly makes me hyperventilate. I am questioning - have been questioning very much indeed for 2.5 years - whether a second child of my heart is actually worth the heavy risk of another trip there and the loss of my fragile sanity.
My breastfeeding Magic 8 ball says 'Ask again later.' Preferably when you've weaned.
I really like your thoughtful response to the question about miscarriages and was it "worth" it, partly because I think the question itself strikes at the heart of the mystery of being alive. We have many paths, but only get to take one. Is the one we chose "right"? Is it "worth" the sacrifices we made to get there? It comforts me to think that there are many ways my life could have turned out, or could go from now on. But we only know the path we ARE on and DID take. It's easy to say, yes having children is worth it because I love my children so much. I can't imagine a world in which my children, precisely as they are, didn't exist. And yet I know it's possible for me to have lived without children. People can get very stuck on this idea of "how their life was supposed to turn out" - marriage, kids, a certain kind of job, a certain income level, etc. But there is so much luck and mystery to life, so many possibilities for happiness, contentment, fulfillment, not just one. Because those things are less contingent on material factors (even having children or not) than the meaning one invests in one's life. I would never give such an answer to a woman struggled with IF because I would be worried it would sound glib - I don't mean it as glib. Giving up a dream we have for our lives is excruciating - it took me almost ten years to make peace with something that derailed my plans for my life (though not IF). There's a mourning process, and there's another side, the way out. Of course none of these musings answers the questioners real question (ie "Should I give up or keep trying even though it's excruciating?"), and that's precisely the one that those of us with babies can't answer, because when it works out and you're family is complete, then it's worth all the struggle, in a more straight forward way.
Anyway, just my 2 cents.
(Oh, and it might be helpful to any new readers that Julie wrote about this years ago about why we keep trying. I can't remember the year or post name, but the comments responding were really wonderful.)
"life is its own reward"
I heart chickenpig.
I want this for people who want it, but what I really want is for people not to have raw, gaping wounds for the rest of their lives, whether those wounds are the results of moving on [at a point that turns out to be] too soon or persisting [at a point that turns out to be] too long. I have no idea how to provide any sort of guidance or reassurance to someone else trying to make the right decision.
People ask some weird questions in that formspring.me thang. I have ignored the questions asking "What's the meaning of life?" and "Am I a good person?" Good gravy, don't ask ME! I like the questions that lend themselves to short and humorous answers.
Sign me up for the Generous and Thoughtful Atheists Club. I have donated to four Haiti charities in the last week, and am contemplating just what percentage of our family income should go to charity. I would never, ever tithe money to a church, but is it reasonable to give 10% to charity? Maybe it is. So I will be making more/bigger donations to Haiti as we go on. I am fortunate that I can afford to help others.
Is parenthood worth it? I think the answer varies. One of those really hard days when a child kicks you hard when you're trying to get him in a carseat? Not so much. In general, I say it's absolutely worth it, but the cost (took over two years to conceive, with the help of injectibles) was not so steep. I don't think I could have borne several more years of crushing disappointments with no guarantee of success, though. (What I have is one child, born two months early. I love him dearly, but there's no way in hell I would do another pregnancy that would likely have a worse outcome and would absolutely damage my health. A second kid, I decided, is not worth the effort and risk for me. YMMV.)
Being childless can bring sadness, true, but a childless adult can also have a lot of fun. Easy vacations, sleeping when you want to, going to movies when the mood strikes, having the flexibility to work late without feeling guilty about it, exploring one's own interests—these are good things. The art world has had a number of stories of women who become famous only when elderly—without kids to raise and to clean up after, women are free to develop their inner selves more fully. It's a different sort of life, and raising kids has its personal rewards too. But everyone has to decide for themselves what their limits are and what they want out of life.
We tried for 3 years, suffered one early miscarriage, and finally got pregnant during our self-proclaimed "make it or break it" month. We were on the verge of a 6 month break, to be followed by a big decision: move on to the fertility clinic for the big guns, or give up entirely and live and work for vacations to Vegas, where the free flowing alcohol and 24 hour action made me forget. I had a mostly uneventful pregnancy, 12 hours of labor, 2 hours of pushing, and at this very moment I am holding the most perfect 2 month old boy! Was it worth it? Hell yeah - when he smiles at me, when he falls asleep in my arms, his darling mouth opened just so, oh it was worth it all. I wish this for everyone who wants it, and I would go through it all again, but I know I'm lucky in some ways - we never needed to turn to ivf, and my high risk pregnancy was easily and carefully managed.
As for the breastfeeding? I'm not on speaking terms with my sad excuses for breasts. My perfect baby wound up hospitalized for dehydration when my damn milk factory wouldn't gear up. Breastfeeding indeed. Next time I'll spare myself the grief and my baby the spinal tap.
I have nothing to say on your big question, because in the genetic sweepstakes, fertility is in my plus column. (BTW, I am very glad there are blogs like yours to help me understand what it might be like if that were not the case. Thank you.)
When I am asked about whether breastfeeding is worth it, I always say that yes, for me it unequivocally is. Heck, even pumping at work is worth it to me. But that's just me. I tell other people to give it 6 weeks, and they'll probably know whether or not it is worth it for them. And if it is not, that is fine and dandy. I say give it 6 weeks because if it turns out not to be for you, you can easily switch to formula at that point. If you switch immediately and later regret it... well, it is a lot, lot harder to switch back.
@AmyM- kudos for coming back and trying to explain your earlier comment. I kinda get where you are coming from, and I'm not offended. However, I don't think someone who gets to high school without knowing the "true" Christmas story (and I won't even argue with you about whether your version is the true one) is that shocking, except perhaps in the sense of "have you been living under a rock? That story is EVERYWHERE." My kids will be free, even encouraged, to question whether there is a God. They will also be taught critical reasoning and the scientific method. They can then decide for themselves whether to be agnostic like their mother, atheist like their father, or a little rebel who truly believes in God.
i wonder about this question a lot. i have always been someone who has wanted children...ever since i was a little girl. but even in the dreaded two week wait after my IVF i was quelling my own fears of a negative beta with thoughts of diaper rashes, tantrums and just the daily shit that can accrue in the life of a mom. i was a nanny and a preschool teacher long enough to know that dealing with children is hard( for lack of a better word + lots of curses), although almost always emotionally rewarding.
well, we got our BFP, but we didn't get our babies. three months ago today i went into premature labor and delivered two of the most beautiful girls i have ever seen. they were my prize at the end of stage 4 endo, three surgeries, three IUIs and one IVF. it was worth it because it plainly HAS to be worth it. i would never go back and change a thing because now i know what it means to have a child and the searing emotion that it brings. the feeling that no horrible day as a mom could outweigh. i knew parents loved their children, of course, but i never knew the gravity and overwhelming-ness of what that meant until i had my own.
i don't know what the future holds for our little family. i will continue as ghost mom forever. thats easy physically, but excruciating emotionally. i know one day i will feel that rush of what i hate to call love, there has to be a better word than that. i dont think it will matter if my children come out of my womb, though i hope they do because i so selfishly want to be pregnant again and feel every wonderful little movement my child makes. im sorry i forget the question...yes i think its worth it. it HAS to be.
To paraphrase another's paraphrase of Dante, Hell can be other people, but Heaven can be too.
Is it worth it? This is the question my husband and I are asking ourselves right now. We are broker-than-broke. Living with his parent coming up on 5 years now broke. Seemingly unable to have children the conventional way, not eligible to be adoptive parents due to being broke and living with his parents. Unable to afford much in the way of fertility treatments (but I have insurance that does cover minimally invasive help). Wondering if it's even worth it to try, considering I'll be 37 in less than two week's time.
For me? Yes. Unequivocally worth it. After infertility and 3 miscarriages we had our daughter who is now two. And I am so incredibly, embarrassingly grateful for her and the experience of parenting her every day. But because parenting is not easy nor always interesting or joyful, I don't know if the "old me" would have been quite so grateful for all of this. I think I love her and appreciate her differently because of what we went through to get her.
Also - we're currently trying for a second child. I had another miscarriage last summer at 10 weeks. If it hadn't had been so worth it, I wouldn't be putting myself through this again.
Go ahead, get out the blow torches now.
When I saw the comment about "some people believe God can do miracles!" my first thought was "Well, then he really needs a bit of practice, because a BETTER miracle would have been skipping the whole earthquake business in the first place, don't you think?"
Is going through all the treatments worth it? Well, in that I too have my little miracles I say yes. But I also think that I would have forever wondered if we hadn't tried the treatments, so in that regard, even if it hadn't worked then yes, I still think it would be worth it to not have the lingering doubt I know I would have had. A lot of that has to do with personality though I think. I had to try, to know for sure. And I'm not sure how long I'd have tried if it didn't work. I'm the type who might always wonder the "what if's".
My head explodes, in much the same way as yours. I try not to think about it. My mother asked me the same question during treatments and I responded that she'd have to tell me, and the conversation kind of dropped. (What could she possibly say? Keep torturing myself, dear, even though it might never work out? I would never have gone through this for you, you just aren't special enough?)
Having never walked the other path(s), it's impossible to draw a firm conclusion, so, nothing gained from musing.
I do firmly believe, however, that if things had gone differently, I could have been just as fulfilled in the end. I despise the viewpoint that having kids is the only true happiness, or being genetically related to you kids, etc, and some have found this out in no uncertain terms (or if they're still uncertain, they are just too deeply stupid to be concerned about).
Bea
There were times when I was up in the middle of a night--for the 47th night in a row--with a colicky baby who would not sleep or when the kids were crabby and bickering over nothing or when I was desperate to have just 5 blessed minutes to myself to set up the goddamn computer that I thought that it was not worth it. But thinking that felt almost unthinkable. And certainly unsayable.
And yet now, 99.9% of the time, I feel it was worth it. I feel it on such a primal level that it surprises me. But that doesn't mean I think it all unfolded in a way that it was meant to or in a way that had to be.
Turning to question no. 2 as I have zip to say on no. 1 -- I hate, abhor, revile the "is it worth it" question. And I have to add that this questions spans across the fertility/infertility spectrum. On some level, every woman can ask this. I am quite certain that my friend that almost died in childbirth because of a previously unknown clotting disorder probably wonders this sometimes. As does the friend with the child with spina bifida. Or, like you, the woman that comes close to critical condition/death because of pre-eclampsia.
On the most basic level, yes, it is, for the simple reason that you want a family. What I hate is this idea that you have to be fucking happy, happy, joy, joy about the fact that you almost died or just had a painful birth or whatever. I love and cherish my child (especially as it seems she may be the only one I ever have) but I am not going to fucking sugarcoat it. Pushing her out (and the associated after-effects) sucked.
I guess I think often of the "is it worth it?" question. I have one IVF 3 year old, and and a freeby 8 month old, (yes I turned out to be one of those women who the hated "now you've done IVF it should work naturally a friend of a friend of mine" people talk about and I still spit with rage to be the proof of that cliche)
But it gives me the perspective of the hard & easy way, and at the end of the day I don't think the bitterness of IVF is "worth it", and yet I wouldn't hand my son or the time or the tears back for anything.
I don't think that the outcome of the joy children bring is a reward for pain endured, I don't love my IVF boy more than his brother, his tantrums are not more rewarding, his kisses are not more lovely. Any childs love is a gift that no-one can deserve or not deserve just by an accident of fertility or stamina to endure pain.
I guess "worth it" implies to me that if you work hard enough you get what you deserve, and I just can't agree with that line of thought. What doesn't kill me makes me stronger whether it yields the desired outcome of children or not. And quite frankly while I like being a person proved stronger & more compassionate by IVF I could have much more happily done without the life lesson & enjoyed my life too.
I guess the proof for me lies in the fact that my original (naive maybe) game plan was 3 kids, but now if it means having to redo IVF for number 3 I will live with the incomplete family plan, and never regret the loss of the 3rd for a minute. Even though I ache for another baby every other day.
But I guess I must admit that if I had never had son#1 then this may have been a very different much more bitter perspective - so as a way of exploring all options, and saying you've tried all contingencies, then IVF has value for sure, but as a comparison a childs life vs the pain of IVF - its apples & oranges, not even worth comparing in my opinion.
This one is tough for me, too. And it's tough because, as much as I truly, madly, deeply love my children, I now realize how much of my own life--a life I really loved--I gave up in being a parent. I miss that life. And I sometimes think that if I didn't get the diagnosis "Infertile," if it had felt like a free choice and not a need to prove something to myself (I'm classic overachiever; having children was the one thing I couldn't 'get right'), maybe I would have made the decision to be childless. And maybe I would have been equally happy, or even happier. That's a hard truth to face.
"...I cant believe it's even possible to go through life not seeing some proof of something greater than yourself..."
What does that have to do with religion? People have died fighting for things they deemed larger than their own life; democracy, equal rights, freedom and so on.
We've been a military family for 20 years and my husband is a combat veteran. We choose to live our lives in support of ideas and ideals that are larger than us as individuals. We have no religious beliefs.
I'll echo the above. If God is giving away miracles, then why did the Earthquake happen in the first place? Why were some people killed and others spared? When I see the hope in Haiti, I see human beings.
"Is it worth it?"
The baby that we had to get through infertility to get is leaving for college in the Fall, so I've got some time and distance.
For years I would have said, "Yes! Absolutely! Do whatever it takes!" Now I say, "Maybe."
Not because my love for my child or my experience with motherhood has gotten more difficult, in fact, it's just the opposite. We have a great kid with a bright future and I suspect that being a mom will be the best I'll ever do.
However, I've seen the long term toll that infertility takes on people and marriages. I found out first hand what it meant to run out of options when we were turned down for adoption (I want to clarify that I was already a mother, this was for a second child. which is completely different than having no children, I understand that.)
Wanting something is not always enough, no matter how many people might claim it is.
I've also seen how parenting can unfold and it's not the series of daydreams I had when waiting to become a mother. It's taboo for parents, especially mothers, to speak of it but some women do regret having become mothers. Not because they are bad mothers but because it is hard and painful in a way that cannot be properly described.
Our bumps in the road have been minor but they have been heartbreaking and consuming to a depth that has stunned me.
The last thing I've observed over the years is that something else happens. I do not mean that in a flip or sarcastic way. But something else will happen if a person does not have children. At first those things will seem trivial, small and of little consequence but they are not. The love and time spent doing things you love, with people you love is satisfying and even more so as you age.
That would have been cold comfort to me 18 years ago but I also wish that someone had told me that life keeps going and even when it seems impossible, light start breaking through the darkness.
I also wanted to add that infertility did not make me a better person. It took away the trust I had in my body, it damaged my relationships and it haunts me still.
Hi all,
That question was left by me. Firstly I want to apologise, it was the wrong place to say it and the wrong thing to say. It wasn't really a question but more of an anguished howl from those dark little places that think things one doesn't like to admit..and I howled it at a stranger, a name behind a screen because I knew she would know more about my life right now than anyone I know..I think that is very sad and it feels very desolate. So to Julie and to all that have read and commented, please don't think badly of me.
I fully admit I have been struggling with the emotional intricacies of the story so far which is basically pregnancy only acheivable through IVF and all transfers that have implanted have been lost, the most recent was our 18week old son 6 weeks ago.
I have read all the responses with interest and cannot thank Julie enough for writing such a thoughtfully constructed reply (although not to me really I'm stealing it). I have taken strength, joy and laughter from Julie's blog and all of you that comment here and feel ashamed of being so selfish but also immensly relieved that no-one has found me and forced me to surrender my ovaries because I'm such a terrible person. So thank you and sorry for hijacking this into a pity party, I'm not this much of a douche irl.
Right, now I'm going to go and crawl into a hole and hope by the time I get out I will have stopped being so much of a hormone wasted train wreck.
I was reading the IVF Connections board a month or so ago, the board where gals have been doing IVF for ages with no success. One of those women posted about trying to focus on what good things have come out of her infertility. The responses were heartbreaking: most of them said nothing at all good has come of it, and in fact, now they're more broke, with fewer friends, and more tension in their marriages than ever before. I think it's hard to consider the question without considering the outcome.
Here is the link, but you have to register with IVF Connections to see it:
http://www.ivfconnections.net/board/showthread.php?t=131076
SAM! NOW HEAR THIS!
YOU ARE NOT A DOUCHE AND NO ONE THINKS SO. DO NOT FEEL ASHAMED. DO NOT REPEAT DO NOT GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOOD HOLE.
Caps intentional. I hear you and hurt for you and like you, hormonal or not. And am even sorrier now knowing what you've been through.
On second thought, after re-reading the thread, I guess people did mention some positive things, but the tone got more negative as the thread went on.
I don't find the question that meaningful. Children take so much money and time and energy *anyway*. Anything you didn't use up trying to get them you'll use up after having had them. I say this a little facetiously, but I sometimes think about this question, as someone who overcame infertility long enough to have a child, who turned out to have special needs. And I have to admit there are time when I hate my kid, when I wish I had never had him. But I'm not thinking about infertility when I'm thinking that, and of course it always passes. The me who suffered from being infertile and the me who is now a mom don't seem to have that much to do with each other, if that makes any sense. I suspect it's also like this for people who adopt kids who turn out to have special needs; anyway I hope so.
I'm in the minority here (as I usually am), as my husband & I have been living childless/free after infertility & loss for the past 8 years. You can read my story on my blog, but it includes (among other things) stillbirth, three IUIs with injectables and a near-nervous breakdown before we decided to end treatment & continue to live without children.
I can't quite seem to wrap my head around the question "Was it worth it?" I find it easier to think about whether I have any regrets. Well, obviously, I would have preferred not to go through any of the things I did. I would have preferred to have a family like everyone else's, in the way that everyone else does (or seems to).
I regret that my daughter was stillborn, but I cherish the memory of six all-too-short months of pregnancy (rollercoaster ride though they were). I am her mother, even if few other people see it that way, and I could never regret that. I don't regret stopping treatment when we did, or not pursuing other avenues. I don't regret waiting as long as we did to ttc (just past our 10th wedding anniversary). We did what we thought was right for us & our future family. I do regret not being more persistent with my family dr when we hadn't conceived after a year or so -- not seeking help sooner than we did. I think it may have given us a little more time to play with.
I think part of me will always be sad that my life didn't work out differently. At the same time, my husband & I have a good life together. I look at what's going on in Haiti right now & we have absolutely nothing to complain about. I get ticked off at relatives who make semi-snide digs about how much free time/money etc. etc. we must have (with the unspoken implication that it's all because we don't have kids, of course). They don't realize the price we've paid (& not just financially, of course).
Would having kids have made my life better? I have no idea. I can't say my life is better or worse than a parent's, because who's to judge? It's just different.
Thank you for this post. You hit upon a few things that have been swirling in my head.
I think that most miracles come when someone decides to do something selfless/outside their comfort zone/etc. I am not a religious believer, and haven't been in a really long time. If I were, I would really hate G-d for taking such a crap on my life.
I've been having a little bit of a, "Will it be worth it?" meltdown this week- as we work towards getting donor sperm back up for our first (hopefully only, but I'm not that naive) IVF. Is all the money, pain, etc., will it all be worth it?
I'm looking forward to reading all the comments.
Never had infertility, just problems carrying babies: weird rare 2nd tri. miscarriage, and a baby born at 25 weeks gestation who is great, but has endured A LOT to be here.
Totally, completely worth it, all of it.
This post couldn't have come at a better time. I just finished dinner with my husband where the topic of discussion was the pending baby shower for a friend expecting twin boys. I knew they were pregnant and knew they had been trying for some time but did NOT know about the twins until the invitation arrived this evening. Suspicion confirmed - fertility treatments required - used the same RE as we did for our two local treatments before we headed to CCRM for our "sure thing". Worked for them. Didn't for us. Even after 3 IVFs. My husband knew all along about their "2 for the price of 1" success but didn't want to tell me because he didn't want to upset me.
There ensued a conversation about our decision to stop trying and the consequences of that decision. Which quickly morphed into a conversation about whether we regretted going through what we did. Which sprung forth venom and bitterness from the depths of my being unlike anything I thought I'd feel again.
I mean, hell - we stopped trying well over a year ago. We have gradually begun building back our savings after both being laid off within months of our $20K "vacation" to Denver for our last chance cycle. We have moved on with life. We have no plans to build our family beyond the furbabies I can't seem to stop adopting (can you say "compensating"?). We enjoy our time to ourselves and the flexibilities that our childless life affords us. We know we're never having children and have known this for some time. But when something sparks that rage, anguish and undeniable feeling like I've been denied something so basic and seemingly wonderful - I can't help but be bitter and think that persuing treatments only made my pain deeper.
So - if I had to answer the question today, I'd say "No". It wasn't worth it for me. Today I do not think it made me a better person. Today I am angry that I focused my life for so long solely on one thing that I could not control. Today I believe it continues to stress my marriage. Today I just can't see the benefits of what we went through. Just can't.
Other days though - I feel differently and that's a whole other talk show.
My now 2.5 year old daughter was born after 3 unsuccessful IUI's and 2 unsuccessful IVF cycles (one resulting in miscarriage). We used donor eggs on the IVF cycle that worked. When she was a year old I got pregnant the old fashioned way and miscarried. Then we used our remaining frozen embryos in a frozen cycle that failed.
I've accomplished a lot in my life, done things I regret, think that I wish I'd done things differently in certain cases. But having my daughter is one thing I don't regret for a second and would do again. But it's easy for me to say that now, I'm on the other side. It's one of those things though that no one can answer for you. Some people can be ok without children and I get it. Some people can't imagine a life without children and I get that too.
I really want a second child but right now can't say that it would be worth all it would take to have another. Infertility made me far more introspective, I had to really question whether I'd be happy without children, if I could handle another loss, if the strain of infertility on my marriage was worth it.
Oh, Sam, please don't feel ashamed. And you have to realize that parents are never, ever, ever allowed to say it's not worth it. The taboo is overpowering, especially in a public forum. But notice how many only children there are. Hmmmm ...
I can say that I don't think it's worth selling your life and soul for, but how you determine whether you're at that point is the tricky part.
Oh, gosh. For me (4 "full" IVFs + 2 FETs + some canceled cycles to conceive my son who was born full-term and healthy), I think it was worth it, but I've long respected Julie's label of, "I've learned a lot ... but I'm not sure it's worth it. So it's interesting to see this post. Er, not that I ever doubted, Julie, that you thought it was worth it, but still ...
A guiding rule I used throughout ttc was asking myself, "If this doesn't work, will I regret having tried it?" The answer (if I tried it) was always no. Still, there was plenty that could have gone wrong, but didn't, and I'm not actually done trying (for #2) yet, so I'm probably jinxing myself just by saying it was worth it. Because I'm quite sure there are paths I could start myself down that wouldn't be.
As to the infertility treatment versus other modes of family building ... we did pursue adoption, but I have (and hate) to admit that it never felt to me like the best/right path for us. And I do, in fact, love "seeing" myself ... yes, my genes ... in my son, and having gotten to experience pregnancy, even as I know that (a) that (at least the genes part) is stupid and it is also (b) luck, as nothing about me and nothing that I did (though it would not have happened -- he would not have happened -- had I not been willing to persist beyond reason) could make that outcome possible.
So, yes ... totally worth it, but easy to say from here. That said, at least on failed cycles and wasted funds, I think I'd have found peace with either outcome. But of course, I cannot know that.
Sam ... I am so sorry about your losses and hope you find a way to achieve the family that you seek.
One of my saddest moments as an English prof has been having a student tell me her life story, which included much pain and abuse at her parents' hands and saying, no, it was not worth it. She told me she would have chosen never to have been born than to have endured what she did.
As the mom of two much-adored, IVF-conceived children, who are growing up knowing how loved they are, yes, it was all worth it. My first grader wrote yesterday, "I love my mom! because she loves me." Is it worth it to expand the love and caring in so many lives? How could it not be?
The post made me think of the folktale about the family that finds a wild horse, and that's viewed as lucky. The son falls off his horse and breaks his let; neighbors view that as unlucky. Then he is spared going to war because of his injury (lucky?). And so on.
Do we consider something worth it only in light of the final outcome? And what do we consider to be the final outcome? The birth of the child? His/her successes or failures? I can't possibly sift through all the what if's. I can only say that becoming a parent was the right choice for me, and that I value my children beyond measure. I wish everyone who desires to be a parent and who is suffering with infertility that joy.