The end of the Dark Ages

For the rest of my life I’ll refer to these last few years as the “Dark Ages.”  I was laid off from the biotech company in July of 2010 and subsequently drew unemployment while looking for jobs from Chicago.  2011 brought the move to Milwaukee and then there was the 4.5 months or so at the BloodCenter that turned out to be the single worst work experience of my entire life.   I’ve spent the last 8 (very humbling) months as a freelance writer and part-time Bed Bath and Beyond associate.  Its been tough.  So many life decisions were put on hold and we really had to scale our lives down to subsistence levels for an extended period of time.  

I recently was offered a long-term contract position with Harley-Davidson, though, and I’m really excited about it.  The job sounds neat and seems like something I’d be particularly good at.  And it pays well.  And its Harley-Frickin’-Davidson!!  How cool is that???  Its not a permanent position, so its not totally ideal, but I have faith in my abilities to win them over enough that – at the least – they extend the contract indefinitely.

This is where I bring this back to IVF.  We spent the first few months of 2011 looking into different IVF docs.  By ‘we’ I mean Jill because she did most of the work.  After identifying a doctor in late spring, we were about ready to start the process in July, but when my job became untenable and I left BloodCenter we were forced to put the process on hold.  Making the timing of this even more awful was the fact that nearly every woman in Jill’s office (of child-bearing age) was either pregnant or had just had kids.  It was like Mommy-palooza there and she was left as only a hopeful observer.  That period was probably the most stressful time in our marriage, but we agreed holding off would be the best option.

A few months passed and after a few more conversations, we decided that waiting for the sake of waiting wasn’t really getting us anywhere.  We had saved for it so we had the money and as we approached our 35^th birthdays, we knew we couldn’t wait forever.  So we took a risk.  A risk that I would have a better job by the time they were born.  One of the things the last few years have taught me is that – as long as you have your priorities straight – you can find a way to make difficult situations workable.  Not necessarily fun or enjoyable, but workable.  And I/we were determined to make this particular situation work.

As the IVF process unfolded we consistently got good results.  Honestly – at every step along the way things have very much gone in our favor.  Still, though, seeing those two little heartbeats brought on a definite sense of anxiety.  I was so afraid that I wouldn’t be able to provide for them.  There were nights I would wake up anxious at 2am.  You carry that anxiety with you as well – I’m sure anybody that knows me well could probably pick up on that.  There is a tension of both mind and spirit that inhibits you from ever achieving any real sense of comfort and peace.

That is what this job has given me – comfort and peace.  Money is money.  It doesn’t mean anything.  The ability to provide for my family, though, means everything.  We’re able to talk about cribs and car seats and high chairs and day care.  Today we bought a stroller – something we couldn’t have afforded without this job (thankfully I was still able to use my BBB discount ---20% gets pretty awesome when you’re dropping $500!!!).

Mostly I’m able to enjoy these next few months.  I’ll be able to provide for our little guys.  And Jill – Jill won’t have to carry us nearly single-handedly anymore.  After five years of marriage and seven years of being together I have definitely learned that life will give a couple plenty of opportunities to share the load.  And Jill has been carrying more than her fair share for entirely too long.  This job provides both of us with a level of comfort I think we’re entirely due.

I have no idea how the rest of the pregnancy will unfold and I’m 100% ignorant when it comes to parenthood.  We’ve made it through the Dark Ages, though, so I’m entirely confident we’ll make it through whatever is next as well.

Friday the 13th

It’s interesting how the notion of ‘fear’ changes as you get older.  When you’re a kid, fear is generally the result of something that you don’t understand, but haven’t yet learned to dismiss as nonsense.  Things like ghosts and monsters and such.  As an adult, though, fear is more often the result of instability – of something taken away from you that leaves you with an uncertain or unpleasant future.  As opposed to when you were younger and fear lasted long enough for Scooby or Shaggy to pull the mask off of the evil-doer, fear as an adult is more pervasive and long lasting.

Ironic, then, that the scariest day I can remember happened on Friday the 13^th.

It started harmless enough.  I got up early and headed to the gym.  I lifted weights for about half an hour then changed into swim trunks and was earnestly swimming away at the Y pool when a lifeguard tapped me on the shoulder and asked if I was Joe Camp.  When I confirmed my identity, he made what is probably the scariest comment I have ever heard – “Your wife called – its an emergency and you need to get home as soon as possible.”

In the pool, wearing only my trunks, a 15 minute drive home – and knowing that this pregnancy has been incredibly hard on Jill – I was pure panic.  The Y folks directed me to a phone, where I hurriedly told Jill I’d be there ASAP.  Drying off seemed to take an hour, the drive home seemed like a month.  When I got back to my locker I saw that Jill had called nearly 35 minutes earlier asking me to come home immediately.  I just didn’t think to check my messages between lifting and swimming.  I felt awful and guilty and mostly terribly afraid of what might happen to our babies.

When I finally pulled in the drive, Jill was outside waiting for me.  She already had an appointment with the Ob/Gyn scheduled for later in the day, but they had got her in earlier as a result of our emergency.  Again – the doctor’s office is only about 5 miles away, but it seemed like we hit every red light along the way.  We were both too nervous to talk much but through a shared clenching of one another's hand, we made our way there. 

Jill’s usual doctor was out of town and her replacement, while competent, was a bit detached in nature.  She started her examination as if Jill and I weren’t practically melting in front of her.  When she finally got to an ultrasound she – fairly casually – said, “Yup, there they are – two little heartbeats.”  I don’t know how long she had been aware that our babies were ok, but up until that second Jill and I were thinking the worst.  I lost it.  I could not have been more relieved.  The exam wrapped up and things looked fine.  Jill was told to take it easy for a week or so, and also that this was only something to monitor – nothing to be anxious about. 

By this point Jill had been in full-on panic mode for an hour or so.  I’d been in a similar state for over 30 minutes.  Once we knew the episode was behind us, we were finally able to talk through the anxiety of the morning.  In those fearful moments, it’s like you know you’re only holding on by a sliver of hope and so talking about “what might happen” is the last thing you want to do.  Afterwards, though, it’s almost therapeutic to talk through the emotions of the day and say some of the things you had been petrified of only 15 minutes ago.

More than anything else, this episode reinforces to me that we are out of the high risk zone.  We’re past that 12 week threshold.  Now – more often than not – our babies are going to be ok.  I mean – my mom was in a car wreck when she was pregnant with me and I’m here to tell the story.  I’m not taking anything for granted, but I do feel a bit more confident – or maybe comfortable is the right word – going forward.

Uncovering Truths

As part of the process to qualify for IVF, there is a fairly rigorous series of blood work and ultrasounds that need to be done.  The doctor wants to make sure that you are a good candidate for success.  A full blood count was done; we were tested for cystic fibrosis (among other things), vitamin D levels, and thyroid function. When my thyroid results came back it actually showed that I have a mild case of hypothyroidism (underactive thyroid).  There have been several tests that have linked hypothyroidism to the increased chance of miscarriage.  So although that result ended up putting the IVF cycle off for two months while I got my levels back to normal, I was still glad that they found it.

When I was growing up, my mom eventually told my sister and I that she had had three miscarriages besides her two successful ones.  And I’m pretty sure that my grandma had two, so I had always been a little concerned that I might be at a higher risk for miscarriage.  And with the process we have to go through just to get pregnant, I wanted to avoid that at all costs.  I’m sure, when my mom was pregnant in the 60s and 70s, no one thought or knew to test for thyroid function, so it went undiagnosed.  However, when my sister got married and before they even started trying to have kids, she found out that she has the same thyroid condition.  Since it had already been treated by the time she did get pregnant, she never had a miscarriage.  To me that was a huge connection. I was certainly willing to delay if it meant increasing our chances of success the first time around.

I also had a hysteroscopy, which is a scope (with a camera!!) of my uterus to make sure it is healthy and that it will be welcoming of the retrieval and transfer process.  As Joe so delicately put it, we definitely don’t have that channel on our TV at home.  Although it is a little odd to watch your uterus on a TV screen, it was still pretty neat.  And I found out that my uterus is naturally tilted about 45 degrees -  nothing to worry about.  But who would’ve known!!