Well, folks. I sure do know how to pick 'em. For the back story on this acupunturist, see the post below this one.
After sending the acupuncturist a politely-worded email just voicing my concern, this is what I got back in response:
"Dear S:
Good Luck on this journey and your opinion was received. My intention was to inform and perhaps spare more suffering down the road.. My belief is that knowledge is Power..
I am viewing your situation from a different paradigm and world view.. The cause and effect from Functional medicine points out very clearly the relationship between a mothers metabolism directly effects the baby's.. The IVF specialists may not talk about this because essentially it is about pumping up the body to whatever degree is needed to get the job done so to speak..If the drugs overload the organs and cause toxicity that is what the baby ingests as well. allopathic medicine only registers toxicity at life threatening levels but the science of functional medicine is looking at the toxicity coming from the mothers placenta at birth.. The stats are startling and I think in mainstream we don't "register or acknowledge these stats.
This is why I was so forthright in sharing my opinion Because I am deeply disturbed as other professional colleagues.. again the argument about genetics is not really looking at the environmental stressors that cause the genetic mutations.Anyway I think you got my point. I hope this was helpful and not more disturbing for you.. actually is not easy for me to inform you but I felt as practitioner it is my responsibility..
best to you"
If that isn't the most full-of-herself crapola I've ever read! It's almost laughable. Almost. Except for the bulging, pulsating vein in my forehead and sky-rocketing blood pressure. Thoughts?
Monday, June 11, 2012
Maybe I'm Overreacting?
Nothing brings out the hypersensitivity than infertility for me. I forget that not everyone exists on the plane where using the term 'implanting' for embryo transfers or suggesting that relaxation cures all makes them homicidal as it does for me. And as I get closer to my cycle, this becomes more so (and no, I'm not even on meds yet!)
So, keeping this in mind, I have a hard time viewing my recent acupuncture appointment with objectivity. Perhaps you can help me with this...
During our session, I mentioned that my son, G, who is of course an IVF baby, has allergies. Just to clarfiy, they're seasonal allergies and they get pretty pronounced during spring, with runny eyes/nose when he's outside. I don't know about you, but it seemed like EVERYONE had allergies this last season. He also seems to have some minor rashes that crop up from time-to-time, all of which have subsided since the summer has approached. OK, so with that being said, do you know what her response was?
He has allergies because he was the product of IVF, because, as you know, she shares, IVF babies are more likely to have allergies. This was said without any consideration that we have allergies in the family or that we live against an overgrown hill or that perhaps many women needing IVF have more autoimmune issues and therefore are likely to have heritable allergies, thus increasing the numbers of IVF babies with allergies.
Then, as I'm reeling inside from this (but too much of a pussy to call her on her logic that is pointing out a long string of correlation rather than causation in research), she also indicates that I still have toxins in my tissues from IVF...three years later.
I am not here to argue whether any of the above points have basis (although it sounds like it). I think IVF is too young of a technology for us to have all of the answers, but so far what we've seen is what I mentioned--there can be any number of exlplantions for the conclusions she's hung her hat on and announced to me as I embark on another cycle.
But that's still beside the point.
My point is this: if you have an IVF soap box you wish to share, let me give you some advice. Do not pick the moment when you have a paying customer full of needles who is about to embark on a cycle and already has a child conceived via IVF laying in front of you to share it. You with me?
In a way, I felt like she was demonizing the process and, indirectly, me. Your child, her words suggested to me, is less healthy because of something you did. And now you're about to do it again, possibly to another child. Would I have loved to conceive my child without medication? You bet your sweet ass I would, but that wasn't in the cards. Maybe that makes me sound hypersensitive and paranoid, but even after years of developing thicker skin, I guess this infertile lady still needs to treated with kid gloves because these subjects--infertility and my child, will always be close to my heart.
So, keeping this in mind, I have a hard time viewing my recent acupuncture appointment with objectivity. Perhaps you can help me with this...
During our session, I mentioned that my son, G, who is of course an IVF baby, has allergies. Just to clarfiy, they're seasonal allergies and they get pretty pronounced during spring, with runny eyes/nose when he's outside. I don't know about you, but it seemed like EVERYONE had allergies this last season. He also seems to have some minor rashes that crop up from time-to-time, all of which have subsided since the summer has approached. OK, so with that being said, do you know what her response was?
He has allergies because he was the product of IVF, because, as you know, she shares, IVF babies are more likely to have allergies. This was said without any consideration that we have allergies in the family or that we live against an overgrown hill or that perhaps many women needing IVF have more autoimmune issues and therefore are likely to have heritable allergies, thus increasing the numbers of IVF babies with allergies.
Then, as I'm reeling inside from this (but too much of a pussy to call her on her logic that is pointing out a long string of correlation rather than causation in research), she also indicates that I still have toxins in my tissues from IVF...three years later.
I am not here to argue whether any of the above points have basis (although it sounds like it). I think IVF is too young of a technology for us to have all of the answers, but so far what we've seen is what I mentioned--there can be any number of exlplantions for the conclusions she's hung her hat on and announced to me as I embark on another cycle.
But that's still beside the point.
My point is this: if you have an IVF soap box you wish to share, let me give you some advice. Do not pick the moment when you have a paying customer full of needles who is about to embark on a cycle and already has a child conceived via IVF laying in front of you to share it. You with me?
In a way, I felt like she was demonizing the process and, indirectly, me. Your child, her words suggested to me, is less healthy because of something you did. And now you're about to do it again, possibly to another child. Would I have loved to conceive my child without medication? You bet your sweet ass I would, but that wasn't in the cards. Maybe that makes me sound hypersensitive and paranoid, but even after years of developing thicker skin, I guess this infertile lady still needs to treated with kid gloves because these subjects--infertility and my child, will always be close to my heart.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Try.
"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover." -Mark Twain
Years ago, when it became time to face what I knew would be a long haul with fertility treatment, I froze. It was after two years of trying on our own, a clomid cycle from my gynecologist and then an IUI from RE #1, all without so much as a faint line on a pee stick. After moving back to our home state following these attempts at parenthood, I walked into an appointment with an RE (one who would have been #2) and walked out before the front desk could call my name. As much as I deeply longed for a child, something stopped me in my tracks. Six years later, I'm still not sure I can put a name to it, but it would take another year after that before I would walk through the doors of another fertility clinic.
Money, time, or fear of failure. Perhaps all of the above were the culprits. And yet 6 IUIs, one IVF, one child and six years later, and that pause in my chest still lingers.
For Mr. S, it has been a number of things. I think he had a less than successful sibling experience (and continues to), while I had a less than successful only child experience. I was lonely and now that both of my parents are gone, I virtually have no family outside of my husband and child. My only option is to create one. That loneliness seems to be digging even deeper trenches in me as I face the idea of my mortality and being on the front lines of my family. I am standing here as the last generation, watching the people in my life dwindle and I am questioning what I want from this life. Well, I want more. Call me selfish, but don't call me ungrateful. I cherish what I have so much that I long for it to multiply and according to my personal medical statistics, this next year is likely my only chance to see it happen, if ever.
As I said to Mr. S, "We have our whole lives to make money, but this is our only opportunity to make babies."
But again, Mr. S has been less-than-thrilled with the prospect and as anyone fighting the battle of IF knows, if you both aren't on the same page, you're nowhere. And that's where I've existed in the space of family building for a long while-in some far off no man's land. I have two frozen embryos that have been in storage for more than three years and a conversation I've been too terrified to begin for fear of its consequences. I hadn't approached Mr. S on the topic in months. I was terrified that I might learn he was done, for good, and doubly terrified that even if he agreed to push forward, it would only be with the frozens and not a fresh and that they would prove unsuccessful and I would squander my very last chance. So, my fear of failure, of the unknown, stunted me from moving forward, perhaps much in the same way it did that day I walked out of that RE's office so many years ago.
In the last few months of my Mom's life, she and I discussed baby names constantly. It was her hope that she would leave me enough money to pursue treatment. It was my hope that she would live long enough to exhaust that money, but she didn't. So, one of the things that stood in our way was eliminated the day she died. It was her gift, one that I would have given back in a heartbeat for another day with her.
About a month and a half after she passed away, my friend, Sarang, gave me this beautiful necklace in remembrance of my mother:
It's my Mom's initials, VRT, a pearl and an angel wing. Lest you think I'm floating way off topic, take a look at this picture of the necklace in the mirror:
Maybe I'm the only one who sees it, but in the mirror, her initials in this font reflected back spell, "TRY."
Try. It was her whisper to me. When I saw that, I knew. I would no longer sit and be held back simply because of the fear of failure. I have never regretted trying and failing any of my cycles. But if I wait any longer, I will. I will regret deeply letting the opportunity my Mom worked so hard for slip by because of the same cowardice that prevented me from letting her in on the words I had locked in my heart before she died. I know firsthand that the pain from regret is much heavier than the pain of having tried and failed, so in that sense, I have some control over my destiny.
A few days after seeing the reflection and building up the courage, I approached Mr. S. It wasn't easy. I had no idea the outcome and was prepared to begin grieving a child who would never be born, as so many of us are faced to do on this journey. After consideration, he agreed we should go forward with our frozens. And so, the wheels have been set in motion once again. This summer I'll climb right back into those stirrups and give it at least one more last shot.
While I might never give birth to another child, I will look back and know that at least I tried, that I didn't let fear stand in my way this time. And that my Mom made this possible and just the opportunity alone is one of the greatest gifts I have ever received.
Years ago, when it became time to face what I knew would be a long haul with fertility treatment, I froze. It was after two years of trying on our own, a clomid cycle from my gynecologist and then an IUI from RE #1, all without so much as a faint line on a pee stick. After moving back to our home state following these attempts at parenthood, I walked into an appointment with an RE (one who would have been #2) and walked out before the front desk could call my name. As much as I deeply longed for a child, something stopped me in my tracks. Six years later, I'm still not sure I can put a name to it, but it would take another year after that before I would walk through the doors of another fertility clinic.
Money, time, or fear of failure. Perhaps all of the above were the culprits. And yet 6 IUIs, one IVF, one child and six years later, and that pause in my chest still lingers.
For Mr. S, it has been a number of things. I think he had a less than successful sibling experience (and continues to), while I had a less than successful only child experience. I was lonely and now that both of my parents are gone, I virtually have no family outside of my husband and child. My only option is to create one. That loneliness seems to be digging even deeper trenches in me as I face the idea of my mortality and being on the front lines of my family. I am standing here as the last generation, watching the people in my life dwindle and I am questioning what I want from this life. Well, I want more. Call me selfish, but don't call me ungrateful. I cherish what I have so much that I long for it to multiply and according to my personal medical statistics, this next year is likely my only chance to see it happen, if ever.
As I said to Mr. S, "We have our whole lives to make money, but this is our only opportunity to make babies."
But again, Mr. S has been less-than-thrilled with the prospect and as anyone fighting the battle of IF knows, if you both aren't on the same page, you're nowhere. And that's where I've existed in the space of family building for a long while-in some far off no man's land. I have two frozen embryos that have been in storage for more than three years and a conversation I've been too terrified to begin for fear of its consequences. I hadn't approached Mr. S on the topic in months. I was terrified that I might learn he was done, for good, and doubly terrified that even if he agreed to push forward, it would only be with the frozens and not a fresh and that they would prove unsuccessful and I would squander my very last chance. So, my fear of failure, of the unknown, stunted me from moving forward, perhaps much in the same way it did that day I walked out of that RE's office so many years ago.
In the last few months of my Mom's life, she and I discussed baby names constantly. It was her hope that she would leave me enough money to pursue treatment. It was my hope that she would live long enough to exhaust that money, but she didn't. So, one of the things that stood in our way was eliminated the day she died. It was her gift, one that I would have given back in a heartbeat for another day with her.
About a month and a half after she passed away, my friend, Sarang, gave me this beautiful necklace in remembrance of my mother:
It's my Mom's initials, VRT, a pearl and an angel wing. Lest you think I'm floating way off topic, take a look at this picture of the necklace in the mirror:
Maybe I'm the only one who sees it, but in the mirror, her initials in this font reflected back spell, "TRY."
Try. It was her whisper to me. When I saw that, I knew. I would no longer sit and be held back simply because of the fear of failure. I have never regretted trying and failing any of my cycles. But if I wait any longer, I will. I will regret deeply letting the opportunity my Mom worked so hard for slip by because of the same cowardice that prevented me from letting her in on the words I had locked in my heart before she died. I know firsthand that the pain from regret is much heavier than the pain of having tried and failed, so in that sense, I have some control over my destiny.
A few days after seeing the reflection and building up the courage, I approached Mr. S. It wasn't easy. I had no idea the outcome and was prepared to begin grieving a child who would never be born, as so many of us are faced to do on this journey. After consideration, he agreed we should go forward with our frozens. And so, the wheels have been set in motion once again. This summer I'll climb right back into those stirrups and give it at least one more last shot.
While I might never give birth to another child, I will look back and know that at least I tried, that I didn't let fear stand in my way this time. And that my Mom made this possible and just the opportunity alone is one of the greatest gifts I have ever received.
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