May 17, 2013 -- I met with my
second opinion Friday and it was like meeting the face of the baby
reaper. I knew from sitting through Dr. M's seminar that he doesn't
put pretty bows on the realities of trying to get pregnant in our
40s. I appreciated that. I want the facts regardless of how painful
they are to accept. So I braced myself for bad news. And he
delivered.
I told him he was
my second opinion, and I gave him the lowdown on my stats. Good
health otherwise, but nightmarish AMH numbers and barely countable
follicles.
He was blunt and
straight with me. He didn't think egg freezing was the best plan for
me, unless of course I wanted to go through the process multiple
times. If I'm only retrieving one to three or four eggs in a cycle,
he didn't think it was worth it at my age. Each cycle costs $10,000
to $15,000. To have even a decent chance of a successful pregnancy
from egg freezing (excepting a lucky miracle), I'd need to have 20 to
30 eggs in the freezer. As Dr. M said at the seminar, 80 to 90
percent of 40-plus year old eggs are abnormal, meaning even if some
of my eggs fertilized and actually implanted in my uterus, they would
spontaneously abort. If by chance an abnormal egg hung in there,
growing into a fetus, chromosomal tests during pregnancy would detect
those genetic abnormalities and I would be faced with whether or not
to abort my problematic baby.
But he was not
encouraging. In fact, reading between the lines of his tough love, he
was trying to tell me that my chances of getting pregnant are not
good. He did not want to give me false hope. Nor did he want me
clinging to it in ignorance or, let's be honest, denial.
I was resistant,
saying that I had heard follicle counts can vary month-to-month. His
face scrunched up a little as he shook his head. “Not by much.” He wanted me to
look at the facts before me: low AMH numbers and low follicle counts.
I jumped in
excitedly to tell him about the AMH study I discovered, the one that
gave me so much hope a month ago. I told him that the fertility
field's accepted belief that low AMH is a good predictor of low egg
production was wrong when it involved women past 42-year-olds. “The
whole picture changes after 42,” I exclaimed, nearly leaping out of
my chair. I was gonna educate this doctor too! I told him the study
showed that women over 42 with low AMH numbers but normal FSH
actually produced “excellent” eggs! Egg counts comparable to
women much younger with normal AMH. And and and...
He heard me out,
but then shrugged. “Yeah, but the proof is in the pudding.” He
reminded me that I only had one follicle, and then a total of three
tiny ones even after stimulation drugs. In other words, You're not
producing “excellent” eggs, dear. My almost undetectable AMH
was a good predictor that my ovarian reserves are tapped.
That brutal fact I
had yet to fully face. I had been clinging to that study as a life
raft, and I was unable to see the big hole right in the middle of it.
Looking into that big hole now, I knew I was close to drowning.
Sounding a little
weak and confused, I asked why then did Dr. P want me to move forward
with egg freezing. Dr. M did not bring up the lucrative profit
factor, he simply said “because no one wants to be the one to tell
you to stop trying.”
All doctors know
sometimes people get lucky. Unexpected things happen. Sometimes,
“there's a good egg floating around” in a 42-year-old's body and
by lottery winning like odds, it becomes a baby. No doctor is going
to tell a woman who is willing to put herself through prolonged hell
to get that miracle baby that she should give up. Perseverance
sometimes pays off. The question is how much money and other
sacrifices are we willing to expend to make a miracle.
Dr. M said his best
advice for me was to try to get pregnant with the few eggs I have
left now rather than go through the process of trying to freeze them
first. He even suggested we try insemination with a sperm donor
first before moving to IVF.
Whoa. He takes my
false hope away and now he just yanked away that year or two I was
hoping to give myself by freezing my eggs. Someone stop the room from
spinning.
“Now” really is
the moment of truth. If I want a baby, I need to get fucking serious
and do it. No more delaying. No more waiting for a better situation.
No more hoping I'll have a man in my life who wants to be my partner
in it. The imperfect situation is what I have, and if I want a baby,
I will have to bring the baby into that imperfect situation. If I
think the imperfect situation is too imperfect for me to raise a
child, well, then maybe it's time I face that fact and kiss this
dream good-bye.
I've heard
countless times from friends, family and strangers: “There's never
a right time.” People have babies because they want babies
regardless of their life situation. They make do. The desire to make
a family overrides fears or anxieties about a less than ideal
situation.
So I have to ask
myself the question: Is my desire to have a child that strong? Is my
impulse for it so powerful that I don't care what the consequences
are? Am I willing to just leap for what I want regardless of all the
other things I DON'T want that will come along with it? The answer, I
must admit is still, I don't know. I simply do not know if I can do
it. I'm not sure I have the strength, the energy and the necessary
patience in me.
I have to be
prepared to raise this child on my own. I have to be prepared to care
for a newborn ALONE. God help me if the process gives me twins, which
regularly happens in fertility treatments. One of my 40-year-old
friends is pregnant with twins from IVF. I fear it. I really do.
It would be easier
if my financial and career situation were more stable. I gave up a good career as a
newspaper reporter several years ago and moved across the country to pursue
a new career as a writer for film and TV. It was a wild
leap of faith, especially since the odds of success are so miniscule.
The average time that it takes working writers to make their first
sale in Hollywood is 10 years, but most never do. I sold a small
project to a small production
company after about a year, but since then I've had to make ends
meet with freelance work supplemented by my dwindling savings. This financial instability is
supposed to be temporary, until I can better establish my new career. But how long that will take, or if it will ever take, is hard
to say.
If I was willing to
give up my professional dreams, it would be easier to take a
steady job doing something else and build a more secure home for a
baby. But I'm not willing to do that, not yet. I want it too much. Plus, I've worked too hard,
put in too much time and am too close to the final bell to throw in
the towel now. Besides, I don't think giving up my ambitions as a writer
to have a child is a wise or healthy choice. It would only breed resentment and create an unhappy mother.
So my question is, can I figure out how to
do both? If I really want a baby and my career, I will have to carve out a baby “room” in my small studio apartment
in the heart of Hollywood, learn to write in between diaper changes and
feeding sessions, and live on rice and beans so I can afford proper baby
food and pediatrician visits. Millions of single moms make do. Some of the best
people are produced from difficult lives, right? Obama. Bill Clinton. John Lennon.
But I'm guessing
that those difficult situations were thrust onto their single moms.
The single women who choose to have children are usually in
relatively stable situations, at least compared to me. They probably
felt ready to do it on their own.
I don't feel ready.
I feel scared. I feel confused and worried I will create a bad
situation for my child and for me. I feel a horrible paralysis in my
chest, locking up my ability to move forward confidently in either
direction. I don't know what to do. I am disappointed and angry with
myself and my imperfect life. I feel totally alone facing the
unpredictable prospects. And I wonder how the hell I managed to so
thoroughly fuck up what seemed like a very promising life not too
many years ago. As Richard Byrne sings, My God, what have I done?
Boo freakin' hoo,
right? Yet, all of this wringing of hands does illuminate the very
real emotional, financial and logistic obstacles that block my path.
I might make a giant leap above them to pluck a baby out of the
clouds, but both of us will come crashing right back down to this
road. Alone.
I hate to admit it,
but my fears and reluctance to walk what will clearly be a difficult
path might make me decide that it's unfair to both of us.
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