Barren Bitches Book Brigade (or: I can read!)

Although I have been a fan of the Stirrup Queens blog for several years now, I have never before participated in the book club. Mainly because the books I read are more likely going to be reviewed on this site. But the arrival of my copy of Navigating the Land of IF by Melissa Ford (yes, the Stirrup Queen herself) coincided with the open invitation to read it with the Barren Bitches Book Brigade, so I decided it would be fun to participate this time. Below you will find my answers to three questions submitted by other barren bitches (or sperm palace jester, as the case may be) regarding this book.

Hop along to another stop on this blog tour by visiting the main list at Stirrup Queens (http://stirrup-queens.blogspot.com/). You can also sign up for the next book on this online book club: "Moose" by Stephanie Klein.

Mel weaves the navigating theme throughout the book. How have you navigated your own infertility journey? Discuss some of the highs and lows of your personal journey and ways you saw your story as you were reading the book.

I first got my ticket to the Land of IF in the spring of 2006. Our "natural" attempts at conception had met with constant failure, so my OB/GYN prescribed Clomid. From there we experienced the usual tests as ordered by our OB/GYN and later the RE (bloodwork, HSG, semen analysis, Clomid Challenge Test, post-coital test, laparoscopy) with no concrete diagnosis, although suspected female factor. We collaborated with our RE to determine a course of action; I read books and combed message boards for medical information and personal anecdotes. I felt the need to be proactive, it gave me some sense of control in a situation in which I really had little. We endured treatment after treatment, culminating in our fifth IUI (second one with injectibles) that resulted in a successful pregnancy. Now we are back on the island to TTC a second child. I hoped and prayed -- and dared even thought -- that we would be one of the lucky couples who didn't have to struggle again after primary infertility. That was almost the case, as we had a BFP on Christmas Eve, but it quickly revealed itself to be only a chemical pregnancy. Now we are heading back to the RE for more injections and turkey basting... thank you, sir, may I have another?

The highs for me had to be the few times that I had hope a treatment would work, mainly when starting a new protocol. I got worse and worse at the "hope" thing as time wore on, but it would show up sometimes anyway. It made me giddy at the first round of Clomid (This is all we'll need, the doc said!). The first IUI (Wow, all those swimmers put just in the right spot, how could this NOT work!). The first round of injectibles with IUI (This is hard core... I'll probably end up with triplets!). And when each one of those failed, the lowest of the lows. Other than the constant and unstoppable arrival of AF, two particularly difficult times for me were hitting the one-year mark and being told I would need a laparoscopy to check for endometriosis. When we hit 12 months TTC, all of the milestones I created in my head came crashing down around me (e.g. I'll have the cutest baby bump next Christmas, or I'll be holding my baby on my next birthday, etc.) and I realized that this was going to be more trouble than I thought. Not only could I not count on being pregnant by any specific future date, I could not count on being pregnant EVER with complete certainty. I was -- I am -- infertile. And shortly after that unhappy anniversary came the recommendation of scheduling a laparoscopy. I was so terrified of surgery that I left the RE's office absolutely shaking. I missed my turn on the way back to my workplace, tried to turn around in someone's ridiculously steep driveway, got stuck on an ice patch, had to call a tow truck, and missed a meeting I had with a client. I laughed about it with my coworkers (who didn't know about my IF), but it was not exactly a banner day. On the bright side, when the time came, the surgery wasn't nearly as bad as I had feared.

Reading Mel's book took me back to those early days of IF when I was learning about hormones and treatments for the first time. Wondering how far we'd need to go to get pregnant, hoping it wasn't to the next step (whatever that might have been at the time). Being unsure of many things, especially wondering if I was strong enough to survive this. This time I am much more familiar with the process, and as I read, I was nodding along instead of nervously marking down questions like I did with IF books three years ago. And there's one thing I am certain of: I am strong enough to survive this, even though it will hurt like hell for a while. I overcame a needle phobia and stabbed myself in the stomach for a week. I'm pretty certain I could fly if I really needed to.



Navigating the Land of IF covered many different aspects of infertility. What topic do you wish had been added or expanded on?

I think the comprehensive nature of the book is one of its strengths; there is something for everyone, and because you often don't know where the path will take you next, it's great to have all topics available (e.g. male factor diagnoses, IVF, adoption, child-free) whenever you need to reference them. That being said, there wasn't a lot covered on secondary infertility specifically. I think partly because the physical issues are the same as with primary infertility, and the emotional issues greatly overlap as well. I certainly wasn't expecting much on this topic anyway -- I bought the book for a refresher as we head back to the RE -- but I would be very curious to see how a chapter or perhaps an entire book on secondary infertility (especially after primary infertility) might read. I am just starting to navigate this area of the island, so it would be valuable to me to have some idea of what to expect. For example: So far, secondary infertility has been a little bit easier for me than primary. (Although still ridiculously high on the Shitty Scale.) I'm almost holding my breath waiting for the same wave of depression that hit me last time to sneak up and crush me. Although I'm certain it's different for everyone, I'd love to hear what have other women experienced as their journey for subsequent children drags on. Any special emotions or pitfalls I should be keeping an eye out for?


The "From Me to You" section—how did that touch you? Have you ever wished you had a best friend in your pocket to get you through a day? What would you say to your best friend in a note if you thought she was going through the same thing?

The book arrived in my mailbox from Amazon.com the same day we were attending a family potluck held by the moms club I belong to. Admittedly, events like these now are immensely easier than, say, heading to a baby shower while I was experiencing primary infertility. But throughout these sorts of gatherings, even with my son in tow, I have a knot in my stomach watching the other moms wrangle their multiple children, seeing siblings interact and play together, and holding my breath in fear that someone will burst out with a pregnancy announcement as my latest cycle is failing. As we were gathering our food and bag to head out, I impulsively grabbed "Navigating the Land of IF" off the kitchen table and flipped through. My eyes settled on the final page of the "From Me to You" section, where Melissa presents a personal note for the reader to xerox and take to a difficult party, offering moral support and permission to secretly feel crappy until safe at home again once more.

As soon as I read it, my heart sighed in my chest, and tears welled in my eyes. It's what I love about Melissa's blog as well -- she simply gets it. She has had a cry in the bathroom at a baby shower, she has stepped outside for a few minutes to collect herself, she has sneaked into the liquor cabinet for a drink. (I picture her using that gum-like stuff from Mission: Impossible to blow open the lock. Although I guess that wouldn't really be sneaking. Maybe she has a special quiet sort of gum explosive that makes a small blast that no one notices.) I whole-heartedly appreciate the support of all my fertile friends and family, I couldn't survive without them, but the comfort I get from the empathy and encouragement of a fellow IFer is unparalleled for me. And I think that's why the letter immediately spoke to my core. Melissa used her beautiful words, again, to remind me that although IF is major suckage, it's not the lonely island it sometimes appears to be. I closed the book, sniffed, and blinked my eyes so my husband wouldn't see my tears and ask me what was wrong. We packed the car, headed off to the potluck, and my heart was lighter than it had been all day.

I absolutely have wished for a tiny infertile best friend to hide in my pocket to help me get through the day. This imaginary IF BFF would no doubt be saying snarky things about strangers behind their backs, which is of course extremely rude (shame on you, naughty IF BFF!) but she would make me snicker nevertheless.

If I had to write a note to a friend going through the same thing, I would probably say something like:

I am so proud of you for coming to this, even though you'd prefer to stay home in bed with your ice cream and DVRed episodes of Wipeout. (Is there anything funnier than watching people getting knocked on their asses?) You are such a strong woman, even when you don't feel like it, and it is kind of you to attend for the sake of the host. You have my permission to pull yourself away, or ignore a conversation, or daydream about those people getting knocked on their asses when you need a break from the celebration. Even though I am not there now, I am with you in spirit, thinking about how amazing you are and praying the minutes tick by quickly. You can absolutely get through this, and when you do, there's a giant tub of ice cream with your name on it. I hope we'll be celebrating your happy blessing one day very soon, and I'll be the guest with the biggest smile. (And cutest dress.) (But not nearly as cute as yours.)

Lots of love,

Me