Mom of twins tells her infertility journey

It still startles me that people make babies with sex. Privately. Easily. Fast. Then there's a birth, and no one looks back. For me, like many women, conception was an agonized, un-caffeinated blur of escalating medical procedures, followed by a pregnancy that seemed to last not the actual 36 weeks, but rather the whole 36 months it took to get there. The physical and emotional strain of those years lingers on into motherhood, like an inner mark as real as my C-section scar. Strange as it sounds, I feel more changed by the trials of infertility than by the transition to parenting -- and that's saying something, with my toddler twin boys turning 2 this month. I still identify with infertility, as if it were a chip I'd been given in AA, though in AA, you can stay forever, whereas with the "TTC" community -- "trying to conceive," in online parlance -- you leave the minute you succeed. Parents of multiples flock together and offer tremendous support, both tactical and abstract, and many of the twin moms I know probably conceived like I did, with DNA mixed in dishes and delivered by needle. Nevertheless, issues of post-infertility stress aren't explicitly broached. Most twin parents practice prison code: you don't ask what anyone else did to get there. When I lived in TTC-land, I had a term for mothers prone to excess oversharing: vagina ladies. Into this category fell any woman who used Christmas parties to talk about the details of gory birth or tricky breastfeeding, while childless me wiggled one leg nervously at the dessert table, gobbling a Santa cookie. How much were you dilated? My nipples cracked and bled! Even before I knew the extent of my infertility, I didn't think that baby-driven hardships should be so defining. In reward for my foolish assumption, fate has deemed that I become a vagina lady myself. This is another odd dimension of my post-TTC existence -- becoming someone who would have once greatly annoyed me. I've got my double-wide stroller, the kind that used to make me shudder. Though I consider my twins a miracle, I like the miracle to sleep, and I sometimes complain when the miracle wears me out. Once, I would have considered this akin to whining about how my pile of money was so heavy it hurt my back to lift it. Read more ... Article: 5th January 2013 www.huffingtonpost.com Looking for a sperm or egg donor? search profiles at www.prideangel.com

'First Christmas with our wee miracle baby' a fertility journey story

Janelle Shaw shares the story of her fertility journey. If you have battled with fertility, share your story with us. This year is our first Christmas with our wee miracle, Olive. My husband and I were married in Auckland in 2004 and took it for granted that we would start a family within a few years. We moved to Invercargill, where I am originally from, to prepare ourselves for parenthood by buying and doing up our first house and continuing our careers. After five years my husband and I were termed with 'unexplained fertility'. None of the invasive testing showed us what our problems were or how we could fix them. So we joined the increasing number of couples in the public systemwaiting list for IVF treatment. We were very open about our journey and our colleagues, friends and family offered us plenty of support. Time was needed to travel to Dunedin for scans and treatments on a regular basis. Our house began to look like some sort of science lab with the drugs around. All social engagements revolved around jab timings, which were set to my cellphone. Three years later, after two rounds of IVF and six embryo transfers we were reaching the end of our stamina and courage to continue. Luckily, I found the support I needed to continue in an online IVF group where others were in the same boat. Many of these people have remained close friends. From research provided by my online group we managed to convince our fertility specialists to try a different protocol on our third cycle. I remember the nurse telling me I should 'rattle as I walked' with the number of drugs I was taking. This was the first time we got a positive. The pregnancy was not without its own complications and the angel at the top of our Christmas tree represents our lost twin in utero. At about 30 weeks Olive was termed 'growth restricted' and had slowed her growing right down. We were assigned to the obstetricians who were hoping for me to reach 38 weeks and Olive to grow to 5 pounds (2.268kgs). We lasted until 37 weeks when pre-eclampsia signs set in. Out Olive came the day after New Years 2013, weighing 4 pounds 5 ounces (1.956). I have put together an album for Olive sharing the journey we took to get her here with the inscription 'Never forget how wanted and loved you are, love Mummy and Daddy'. In the album are doctor's letters, ovary scans, blessed stones from well-meaning aunties, along with the scans of her and her twin My online group started up a 'lucky sock' trend. During the egg extraction operation each of us chose a pair of socks to wear. For Olive's first Christmas I have made her her own Santa sock with her initials 'OS' sewn on the top from the lucky socks worn at her egg extraction and the following successful egg transfer. Finally we have our first Christmas as a family. Sod the expensive Christmas presents and blow the scurrying around for weeks beforehand that seems to go with the big day. This year we have been blessed enough to discover the true meaning of Christmas. Article: 29th December 2013 www.stuff.co.nz

Single mum by choice achieves her dream of a family

Four years ago, Margaret Ambrose thought life couldn't get much worse. In the space of a year, she turned 40, her dog died and her long-term relationship broke down while she was preparing to start IVF. The Melbourne journalist who was yearning to be a mother thought she was facing a childless future. ''I thought there goes my dream of having kids,'' she said. ''I was 40 at the time so I thought, realistically, by the time I find someone, date them, decide to commit, how old will I be?'' Not content with her chances of finding a man in time to conceive, Ms Ambrose decided to join a growing band of single women who are using sperm donors to embark on motherhood alone. According to new figures from the Victorian Assisted Reproductive Treatment Authority, single women and lesbians are behind a huge rise in the number of Victorians using sperm donors to conceive children since a new law gave them access to IVF treatment in 2010. Before the change, women had to be deemed medically infertile to use IVF in Victoria - a rule that excluded women without male partners. The change has caused demand for sperm to soar in Victoria. Last financial year, the sperm of 445 men was available in clinics, up from 192 the year before. Newly recruited donors have also surged from 38 in 2011-12 to 64 last year. The number of women who used their sperm has increased from 452 in 2008-09 to 1901 last year, leading to 318 pregnancies. At first, Ms Ambrose said the list of potential donors at an IVF clinic was confronting. Instead of being overwhelmed by profiles of tall, dark, handsome professional men, she found just two out of about 20 who seemed suitable. ''I was so traumatised when I saw the list that I called a girlfriend to come over. She said let's start by you telling me what you don't want and I'll eliminate them. It was so funny, I remember her saying 'I assume you don't want one who can't fill out the form properly?''' But within months, Ms Ambrose had chosen a donor who shared her values and his sperm was being used to create embryos in a laboratory. It took just three IVF cycles for her to fall pregnant with her daughter Greta, who is now three. When Greta was one, she returned for a second baby and had Rori, who is now 15 months old. Ms Ambrose said although being a single mother was difficult in some ways, her mother and friends had helped her raise her two girls who are now ''the loves of my life''. ''In a way being single is harder, but it's also easier. You don't have someone else to factor into decisions and negotiate with. I never have to have conversations about whether we tell the girls about God or Santa. It's like I'm the dictator of my own little world,'' she said. However, Ms Ambrose said there had been some hard times and she still hoped to meet a man who would be a father to her girls. Read more ... Article: 6th November 2013 www.theage.com