We are currently beginning work on a chapter about pregnancy loss. If you have ever had a miscarriage, stillbirth, or pregnancy termination due to medical reasons and would be willing to talk to us, please write us directly at thetowncriers@gmail.com. We will then send you a set of questions to answer and send back to us.

Thank you–please pass along this interview request to anyone you think would be helpful for our research.

There are Stirrup Queens out there who bitterly add up the money they spent on birth control pills and other contraceptives back when they were trying not to get pregnant. Hmmm…little did I know that I didn’t need to be quite so careful. But I’m not sad about the money I spent on birth control–after all, it did its job. I never got pregnant. I see it in the same way as insurance–you spend all that money on it whether or not you need it.

The money I would like back are from those damn pee sticks.

There are many urban legends–some true, some false–concerning how cigarette manufacturers place chemicals in their cigarettes to make them more addictive. Though not yet proven, I believe that pregnancy test manufacturers somehow imbue their pee sticks with siren songs that call out to hormone-crazed women as they near the middle of the two-week-wait. My older sister once told me that all grates in Washington, D.C. were programmed to break when I stepped on them–somehow they were constantly updated with my exact weight, height, walking stride. Therefore, being the trusting little sister, I avoided stepping on any grate. I believe that pee stick manufacturers have somehow figured out a way to set their siren songs to only be sung when a woman with certain hormones and hopes coursing through her body steps within a few feet of that bathroom cabinet where the aforementioned pee stick is residing. Unlikely, you say? Well, I never stepped on a grate so I’m not sure if my sister was correct about how I would fall to my death. But I have walked near that cabinet when brushing my teeth and I have heard the siren song…

And I have peed.

Even when it was NOT the first urine of the day.

Yes, I would try to wait, but I sometimes I couldn’t. There was a particularly terrible evening when we were having dinner at a friend’s house and I was being very mindful of First Response’s Early Detection’s (affectionately referred to as FRED in our house) rule about evening pee needing to be held for four hours in order to contain enough hcG to tip the test. I drank sips of water, telling myself that I would not be able to urinate until I got home. I am ready to go, my bladder bursting, determined not to pee until I had my pee stick in hand. And then the friend suggests a walk. And my husband agrees!–agrees even though he knows about that siren song (when it is particularly loud, he can hear it too) because he can’t figure out a way to tell this friend why we have to go home (next time, sweetheart, just try the “we’re tired, but thank you dinner” excuse). I am walking through his neighbourhood, my knees clenched together, pausing on corners while I mentally willed messages back to the pee stick at home. Wait for me. I’m coming. Give me a positive message.

All that bladder pain and the damn test was negative.

I have tested even when I KNEW I was getting my period that day. Even when I was having a beta later that day and would have the results in hand by the afternoon. Why did I waste this money? Because of those evil pee stick manufacturers who forced me to take their tests. Made them addictive to hormone-stressed women.

I once flew out to Detroit to visit my other lady-when-waiting. I did not bring a pee stick with me, but became certain at 5 a.m. that I was pregnant. Only I couldn’t go out to get the pee stick because I had to pee so badly. My lady-when-waiting walked to CVS (bless her heart) and bought one for me. She then sat on the bathroom floor and watched the second line not appear. So much for intuition. And, yes, I am well aware that this trip to CVS goes well beyond the normal bounds of friendship.

At $8 a pop (that was about the average based on the numerous brands I tried), with 7 used during the first cycle and 1 or 2 used in each additional cycle, I figured out that I spent about $328 on pee sticks. This does not count the numerous ovulation predictor kits I also purchased (with often came with a free pee stick–one more piece of evidence that the manufactuers WANT us to be addicted. That’s like throwing in an ounce of cocaine with the purchase of some chocolate chips!).

And that’s probably a low figure.

Add it up and then write and tell us what you would do if you could have your pee stick money back. I would be currently spending it on a roundtrip ticket to the Bahamas. Thanks, First Reponse, for robbing me of my Caribbean vacation.

There is a tradition in IF chat rooms and bulletin boards to mention in the subject line of a post whether or not the post contains certain information. You will often see people post things such as “pregnancy mentioned” or “miscarriage mentioned” with the understanding that if you are not in a good mental space to read about these things, you should skip the entry. It’s a courtesy that recognizes that sometimes there is a time and place for information–and the speaker recognizes not only their own need to speak, but also the listener’s state to hear. This is an IF blog. But the repercussions of IF do not necessarily end with pregnancy or birth. There is parenting after IF. There is secondary IF. So sometimes I will discuss these things in the blog and I will place a note in the subject line. Feel free to skip. Or skip the entry now and come back later. Because some of these things are ideas that I wish people had discussed prior to this point in my journey.

This is something I was never told in any of the dozens of IF books I have read: parenting after IF is such a balance between the bitter and the sweet. I’m sure that there are similar emotions that breakforth for any couple when they know they are parenting their last child. But I think that people who parent after IF find themselves struggling with those transitions on the first child. Perhaps because you never know if you will get to hold another one.

I can’t give up the bottle.

My children can give up the bottle. My son, in fact, waved at his bottle tonight and said, “bye bye ba-ba.” And I looked at him in horror and said, “no, no, there’s still one more bottle! Tomorrow night! This was not the last bottle.”

I truly can’t give up the bottle.

It could be the simple idea that we don’t know if we will be able to have more children. There are the medical considerations and the financial considerations and they come together to create the perfect storm of childlessness. Even if we were to have more children, they may come into our lives at an older age since many international adoptions do not take place at the moment of the child’s birth. There are waiting periods. And we may choose in the end to adopt a child that is closer in age to our existing children. In which case, we would miss their babyhood all together.

So no more bottles.

My mother was over two weeks ago when we mentioned that she should really enjoy the bottle she would give the following weekend. It would probably be the last bottle she would get to give. She looked wistfully at them playing and told me how she couldn’t give up my crib. She had such a stumbling block when it came to moving me into a toddler bed. I think many parents who haven’t gone through IF would have heard me talking about giving up the bottle and would have focused on the fears of the average parent–that the children would refuse to give it up, that bedtime would become difficult, that they would stop sleeping through the night. But my mother, a fellow Stirrup Queen, heard the catch in my voice when I mentioned the last bottle and she immediately knew what I was thinking. That it could be the last bottle I ever give since I don’t know if there will be more children. It was the same struggle my mother faced when she had to move me to the toddler bed. There may not be another child no matter how badly she wants one. She was lucky and had my brother. She got to go through those milestones one more time.

I’ve had trouble with other transitions from babyhood to toddlerhood, but this one is the hardest. Maybe it’s because it’s tied to cuddle time. Or because it was so hard to get them to take a bottle in the beginning (our premature babies took 45 minutes to finish one ounce of milk) that it seems most unfair that we have to give up the skill once we’ve gotten really good at it. Maybe it’s residual hurt from the fact that I couldn’t breastfeed–a reminder that we had to do formula and bottles because the fertility drugs damaged my ability to produce prolactin. They gave me two babies and no ability to feed them–how is that for irony? Anyway, I’m not sure why I’m having such trouble with the bottle. All I know is that we need to give them up tomorrow night.

People who are parenting their last child, but who haven’t gone through IF, may think they feel the same way. They may be holding onto their last child’s babyhood. It’s probably similar. I have a feeling that it’s still slightly different.

Any other people parenting after IF out there? Do the transitions get easier? Does it just become more bittersweet?

The financial aspects of IF was actually what kicked this book out of our heads and onto the page. No, we’re not writing it to finance IVF or adoption (okay, so we all know full well how we’re planning to spend the advance–it’s nice to know that our writing has financed our entire parenting journey. The birth of a written piece truly equal the birth of a child in our case). This is how it began…

I came downstairs one morning and Josh was angrily writing a response to an advice columnist. He had followed an intriguing sentence from the “front page” of the online newspaper to read a question about adoption. This is the original question from Ask Amy (complete with her title to the question):

Couple should adopt new plan, not plea for cash
Published June 24, 2006 Dear Amy: My brother-in-law and his wife are adopting a child from another country.The couple has created a Web site about the impending arrival of their child. They are planning a baby shower.What seems strange to me and my husband about the excitement surrounding this adoption is that the couple also has requested financial donations from friends and family, including setting up a PayPal account to expedite these donations.We are aware of the costs associated with an international adoption, but such donations to finance it seem something of an affront to us.My husband and I are proud of their decision, as they are unable to conceive. Nothing is more life-affirming than providing a stable home for a child, regardless of country of origin. I suppose it is the request for money that has us concerned.As the parents of two children, we understand how much it costs to feed, clothe and educate a child. How can we relate this to them without squelching their excitement about the adoption?– A Concerned Relative

It’s funny; I have a different definition of “concerned” than this person.

This is Amy’s response…

Dear Concerned: Your husband should have a discreet conversation with his brother that can start something along the lines: “I’m worried that you and Sandy can’t afford this adoption. Is everything OK?”As you point out, one problem with this is that the expenses of child-rearing only begin once the child is brought home. If a couple can’t finance the mechanics of having a child (whether through the high cost of fertility treatments or of overseas adoptions), then perhaps they should wait for the blessed event until they are more financially secure. Domestic adoptions can be far less expensive, and if this couple hasn’t considered adopting an American-born child, then they should.Raising money in this fashion is a step way above and beyond gathering gifts (financial and otherwise) through a baby shower. Either this couple is very hard up for money or they feel entitled to use their child’s adoption as a way to raise funds.Either answer isn’t good.

Beyond the basic hypocrisy where gift registeries are “tasteful” and asking for money is “tacky” (even if money is what you need more than onesies with ducks–and gifts are suppose to be helpful), there is the basic lack of understanding in her response concerning (1) the financial strain of IF and (2) the concept that you receive the child you’re meant to have.

Amy, sweetheart–how would you have felt if the world demanded that you cough up college tuition BEFORE they would grant you a child. No, you wouldn’t have 18 years to save. You would have to cough it up. Right now. Because the cost of college (astronomical) is very similar to the cost of IF (whether you’re bleeding money through treatments, adoption, surrogacy…therapy…). And how would you feel if your friends could get pregnant easily–for free–but you had to pay out $20,000. Free vs. $20,000. Hmmm…I can see how this concerned relative has a great understanding of who can afford parenthood.

I deserve to be a parent. Even if I’m not rich. And if it takes a village to raise a child, it certainly also takes a village to make one when you’re faced with infertility. And when the opportunity comes along to be a parent, you grab it–regardless of your financial situation. You work it out. We wanted to scream at Amy, “do you think that the baby store will just put the child on hold for you until you can save up enough for payments?”

This isn’t a car. This is a child. And it’s the child this couple is meant to have.

I believe strongly in the adoption philosophy that the children you hold are the children you’re meant to have. That fate brings you together. And to have someone demean that and say, “You should pass on this child because you can’t afford her. Just wait until you’re financially secure and the next kid comes along…” fills me with rage. Especially with the idea that you can’t possibly comprehend the responsibility of parenthood until you are a parent. This concerned relative needs to step in (with Amy’s help) and set this couple straight.

It made us so sad when we saw this lack of understanding between the two sides–as well as how tightly the financial strains of infertility wrap themselves around the couple, suffocating their decision-making, filling them with frustration, stealing away other choices. The couple who now can’t afford a house because they spent their savings having a child. The couple who needed to take on an extra job and never see one another in order to fulfill their dream of becoming parents. Contrasted with the couple who have their child and THEN start worrying about finances.

I am simplifying this. Yes, we all need to make hard financial decision in our lives. We all forego things we want in order to have other things. Most of us live hand-to-mouth without any true savings. But the financial strains of IF are truly like pouring salt into an open, gaping wound. Reading Amy’s terrible advice is like dousing aforementioned wound with jellyfish venom.

Keep the financial stories coming. It’s an area of IF that is obviously fraught with misunderstanding between the two communities.

Heading into the weekend, I thought I’d throw out a nice, light topic that fills all of us with joy–financial considerations. Has a nice lilt to it. You can almost sing it when your heart is completely brimming with love and gratefulness towards insurance companies.

Unless you are a billionaire who drops $20,000 without blinking an eye, finances have probably guided some of your protocal decisions. Infertility is expensive and the financial strain is one of the many salts on the wound. As if it’s not enough that you’re giving yourself injections into your stomach or “depositing a donation,” you also have to make huge monetary sacrifices. Many times, when people are faced with infertility, they can’t even afford to get started building their family due to the astronomical costs involved with fertility treatments, adoption or surrogacy.

The question: how much did finances coming into play in your decision-making process? Did you forego attempting fertility treatments in order to have the financial means for adoption? Did you do many extra IUIs because you couldn’t afford IVF? How would your treatment schedule be different if money wasn’t an option and insurance was covering costs (or adoption was easily affordable)?

Of course, answers will probably differ if you are in the throes of primary IF vs. secondary IF. But how far were you willing to go financially to build your family and how did money figure into your decision-making process?