How Would You Like Your Eggs?

FOREWARD

“So, when are you guys going to have kids?” It is a question usually asked with nothing more sinister than friendly curiosity. But I’ll let you into a secret – for some of us it’s a question that can cut like a knife and can trigger feeling of self-blame, guilt, shame, loss of control and anger.

It’s one of many. We’ve all heard them. Some of us have even asked them:“Don’t you want kids?” “What’s wrong with you?”...the list goes on. They seem never-ending and there is no easy answer.

There might be many reasons why we have waited to start a family –to set ourselves up financially, moving cities, buying a house or only just finding ‘Mr Right’ (or ourselves for that matter). But when you are desperately longing for a baby, wondering whether you will every hold one in your arms, the questions sting.

It’s not like you don’t have a whole list of questions of your own; “My friends all seem to be able to get pregnant immediately, so why isn’t it happening for us?” “Is it my fault?” “How many more disappointments can we take?” “Will we have to give up on our dream?” It can become all consuming and impact on every aspect of your life and relationships.

Some people prefer to keep their experiences to themselves, feeling safer trying to lock themselves away from the fertile world.

Me? I was more likely to enlighten those who asked insensitive questions – and give details. We’re talking charting cervical mucus, sex on cue, wooden fertility dolls, swallowing foul tasting Chinese herbs. It was definitely enough to make most people think twice about asking me anything ever again.

Even though one in six Australian couples experience some kind of fertility problem, it can be an incredibly isolating condition. I, like many other women, found solace in connecting through online forums – where you can pour out your heart to virtual strangers who cannot see your tears, but can feel your pain.

Looking back on my journey, there were a few pivotal moments although I didn't recognise them at the time because my vision was often clouded by grief and blinded by my deep longing to have a baby. The red polka dotted dress; the kind stranger, a flight to Singapore and the persistent owners of the little B & B we escaped to in the midst of our IVF treatment. All of them piece together a long line of dots throughout my years of struggling to conceive.

I was immersed in my secret life – my perpetual state of PUPO (pregnant until proven otherwise) – repeatedly promising myself that the furtively purchased pregnancy tests would only be used if completely justified, then sneaking off to pee on a stick ... and then another one just in case.

Robbed of the enjoyment of planning for a baby, everything became covert – a conspiracy shared with my husband and my mother.

Then came the emotional rollercoaster of IVF, while putting on a brave face for a continuous line of baby showers for other people.

My journey took me from almost losing all hope, to the joy of finally becoming a mum. It was such an unexpected, unpredictable story. And it is one I now feel compelled to share – to try to shine a light on a common but misunderstood condition and to be an advocate for other women still isolated in their own infertility bubbles. To start a conversation in a world that appears to prefer to ignore the issue of infertility.

I promise to expose the full myriad of emotions and share heartbreaking experiences, as well as offer hope when it appears that all the statistics were lined up against us.

Everyone’s experience of infertility is different and we all have our own unique journey. Different doctors have different approaches. But I feel, as patients, infertility is uniting and my sole purpose for writing this book is to provide support and guidance no matter what the outcome is.

My experience saw me embark on treatment at two different fertility clinics, with very different approaches. As time passed, I realised there was no greater power than education. I informed myself about the subtle differences in treatments and armed myself with as much knowledge and research as possible.

Sometimes, it takes more than two people to make a pregnancy and it can take time. It doesn’t always mean the diagnosis is infertility. Make an appointment to see a doctor and discuss any concerns you may have. Being well informed is the key to knowing what options are available to you.

I’m approaching this book like a journal so I can keep it open and honest. I’ll share with you the good, the bad and the funny side of some of the hurdles I encountered. Heck knows we all need a good laugh from time to time. It’s often been the only thing to get me through.

I realize infertility is not a laughing matter, so I have worked with Genea, World Leaders in Fertility to include some of the more technical details – which I hope you will find very helpful .

If this book can help lighten the load of the grieving process you experience on your own personal journey, or be a reference for someone close to you, then together we can help others understand. Best of luck and enjoy.

Debora

Debora Krizak

CHAPTER 1 – Where did the time go?

“Each human being has exactly the same number of hours and minutes every day. Rich people can’t buy more hours. Scientists can’t invent new minutes. And you can’t save time to spend it on another day. Even so, time is amazingly fair and forgiving. No matter how much time you’ve wasted in the past, you still have an entire tomorrow.” – DENIS WAITELY

Year 1, August – Time flies when you’re having fun

I was emptying out my bedside drawers the other day when I stumbled across a half empty box of oral contraceptives. It seems like a lifetime ago since I took them. I flipped the packet around to have a look at the issue date – five years ago. That’s how long I had been off the pill. I’d never really thought of it before that moment.

My husband Fez and I have enjoyed a normal sex life and, like most couples, have taken a few risks from time to time which eventually resorted to us doing away with contraception altogether. We have been in the mindset that we would let nature take its course and not think about things too much. ‘Let it be a surprise if we get pregnant,’ we said, relishing all the romantic notions that go along with the idea. Five years later and nothing. Where has the time gone?

Of my 15 closest friends, nine were pregnant and expecting within six months of each other. I sighed as I said goodbye to the long ladies’ lunches and the designer clothing which would soon make way for 10am brunches in the park, glasses of maison (alcohol-free wine, God forbid) and baby Dior.

I engrossed myself in sourcing impractical, original baby shower gifts and discovering the world of baby products that await expecting mothers. Watching others around me go through motherhood certainly made me curious to get started. I didn’t want to be left behind. But five years? We weren’t ‘trying’ to get pregnant, but it was puzzling why we hadn’t accidentally got pregnant. The self doubt reared its ugly head again, and I started to worry.