Shelton & Brandi

Hello! We're Brandi & Shelton Koskie. Since 2006 we’ve been one of the many couples on the In Vitro Fertilization journey. We were the first IVF fundraiser blog, and thanks to the generous help of many, in we had our first successful IVF attempt. Nine months later, we had a beautiful girl, Paisley. You’re invited to follow along on our journey from infertility to parenthood.  Learn more

On the Calendar

As official as typing something in my Google calendar can be, it’s official. I just booked our IVF class, which will take place the afternoon of June 3. This is where we’ll learn to do my favorite thing on earth… stick sharp needles into my thigh! I’m a total friggin’ wuss people. I got stitches two weeks ago (for the first time) and between the sewing and tetanus shot you’d have thought an eight-year-old child were lying on the table with all the crying and screaming. I’m not making that up. I asked if they’d put me under to do the stitches. They did not.

They’ll also teach us some other important stuff, like what to do when the clomid haze turns your wife into a homicidal maniac, and the types of medication you’ll be taking and the ins-and-outs of the process.

We put another date on the calendar today as well. July 15, 2009. This one makes me anxious. I want to cry and giggle right now. Our IVF start date. Holy crap! This is getting very, very real. I feel like we’ve been on that slow incline of a roller coaster for, well, years now and we’re starting to approach that white flag toward that top that signals, “you’re screwed, no turning back now.” Any second we’re going to be hurled over a hill that will put my stomach (and uterus) somewhere between my ears and I’m going to miss that slow, boring ascent.

image

What If?

What if I’m not a good mom after all?

What if our child has a disease?

What if our child doesn’t grow up to love us?

What if our child doesn’t have that perfect combination of our eyes, his red hair, my curls, his diligence and my creativity?

What if I can’t potty train properly?

What if I lose my mind?

What if my kid is a pickier eater than I am?

What if parenthood exceeds my wildest expectations?

What if I forget who “I” am?

What if I lose my nice ass and my hot boobs?

What if I never sleep in again on a Saturday?

What if I never sleep again ever?

What if motherhood isn’t all it’s cracked up to be?

What if I can’t teach my child to read?

What if we lose our first IVF attempt?

What If, What If, What if. These are questions that constantly plague me. Hopefully I’m not alone. More times than not I can’t wait to have a little wriggly body that calls me mom. There are times when I see how my girlfriends are exhausted, haven’t had a break in months and at their wits end – that I think, is it worth it? Maybe I’ve been given a free pass. I don’t have to endure all of this. I get to just be me, just be us. That’s not what I want though. I want to be tired, exhausted, frustrated and out of fresh ideas – the way all the good mommies I know are.

I’ve been reading Dooce.com for nearly five years, on a most-days basis. She’s irreverent, honest, real and on my level. She inspires me to write more candidly and to not think that my odd work-from-home lifestyle is, odd. She makes me want to embrace the good, bad and incredibly ugly of motherhood. This week, her little girl turned five-years-old.

Each month she writes Leta a note. A very public Internet style baby book. Exactly what I’ve always intended to do. This five-year post is why I want to be a mom. I want to realize that I can’t spell things in front of my kid. I want to realize that they are quite possibly smarter than I am. That they resemble the one person I love more than any other in the world. That they changed “the demension” of my life that I never knew possible, and for all the right reasons.

That my what-ifs turn into:

What if I can’t keep a secret anymore?

What if my baby is more beautiful than I imagined possible?

What if Shelton turns out to be the nicer parent?

What if my kid is funnier than I am?

What if parenthood exceeds my wildest expectations?

Octuplets Born, Fertility Treatment in the Hot Seat

In case you haven’t yet heard, a woman gave birth via cesarean to octuplets this week. That’s eight babies. EIGHT!! They could make a human octopus, or a stop sign, or a spider, or any other thing with eight sides or appendages.

All joking aside, it’s a miracle that the brood is doing well. In fact, the two who needed breathing treatments are now off. Their weights ranged from 1 pd 8 oz to 3 pd 4 oz. Unbelievable.

The hospital is being very respectful of the parent’s wishes to not disclose their identity, nor how the babies were conceived. I’m no expert, but I can’t imagine this was natural. The critics are of course coming out of the woodwork, fertility treatment be damned and what not. This story here in the LA Times even, without saying so exactly, suggests that selective reduction should have taken place (or at least that was my personal interpretation). “Doctors should be making efforts to curb these higher-order multiple gestations,” said Dr. Geeta Swamy, an assistant professor of obstetrics and gynecology at Duke University. Whether you’re pregnant with one or ten, that’s a choice left to the parents, not the medical community at large. That’s a choice I hope to not ever be in a position to make. If fertility treatment was involved, I’m sure these people were finally able to achieve a pregnancy, and come hell or high water were having all of them. I don’t blame them.

“When we see something like this in the general fertility world, it gives us the heebie jeebies,” said Michael Tucker, a clinical embryologist in Atlanta and a leading researcher in infertility treatment. Tucker added that in his opinion, “if a medical practitioner had anything to do with it, there’s some degree of inappropriate medical therapy there.” We’ve had countless conversations between ourselves and Dr. T about the number of embryos to transfer. One is the number that everyone comes back to time and time again. It’s safe, in our case it will be effective and it’s attainable. I can’t speak for these people and I’m in no position to point fingers, but I can’t imagine what the conversations sounded like in which it made sense to transfer enough embryos to produce eight babies.

I’m thrilled that this couple can now call themselves parents and that they have eight children to call their own. I pray that each and every one of those 80 toes, 80 fingers, 16 lungs and eight tiny hearts make it home healthy, safely and prepared to deal with a lot of hair pulling!

UPDATE: Obviously, we’ve since learned that Nadya Suleman did this genius act of fertility acrobatics without a spouse and with the consent of her doctor. Awesome.

Waiting for Daisy, an infertility memoir

Thanks to Jennifer P. for sharing the title ”Waiting for Daisy.” It looks like the type of infertility book that’s right up my alley. The full title is: A Tale of Two Continents, Three Religions, Five Infertility Doctors, an Oscar, an Atomic Bomb, a Romantic Night, and One Woman’s Quest to Become a Mother. It’s the story of a 35-year-old woman, Peggy Orenstein, who decides to get pregnant and then becomes “hope’s bitch,” her description of the infertility joyride. I’m going to check it out… and if you do…. drop me a note and let me know what you thought.

An expert from the book at Amazon.com:

Clomid was my gateway drug; the one you take because, Why not—everyone’s doing it. Just five tiny pills. They’ll give you a boost, maybe get you where you need to go. It’s true, some women can stop there. For others, Clomid becomes infertility’s version of Reefer Madness. First you smoke a little grass, then you’re selling your body on a street corner for crack. First you pop a little Clomid, suddenly you’re taking out a second mortgage for another round of in vitro fertilization (IVF).”

I Heart Juno!

My favorite new movie is Juno! It’s the quirky, smart and funny movie about a 16-year old girl (the AMAZING Ellen Page) who gets pregnant on her first time. I know, sensitive subject. If you’re anything like me, you’ll fall in love with this character and film immediately. I was thrilled to hear Juno received a Oscar nod for Best Picture. I’ve never experienced a movie that engaged me and made me laugh this hard- all while hitting one certain nerve in me and dropping me to tears. Brilliant! Kudos! Love it!

Instead of trying to see it through and handle high school with a baby, or abort the baby, she chooses a couple unable to have babies of their own to adopt it. Jennifer Garner plays the adopting mother and shines as this warm and loving woman. Although she has a little one of her own in real life, I think she played the part of an infertile woman very well. That vulnerability, the constant hope and desire.

Aces all around. Go See Juno!

British Man Too Fat to Adopt

This is ridiculous! As I was chatting with a fellow infertility friend that this is such an injustice. This man is overweight so London won’t approve his ability to adopt. Are you kidding me? He’s probably far more qualified to be a father than the skinny people I see driving with their kids out of a car seat or seat belt, smoking with their kids in the room, who beat and abandon their children. UGH! Down right infuriating.

You can read the whole story about the man Britain says is too fat to adopt here. I hope for his own health he’s able to lose the weight, and even more so, I hope he and his wife are able to become parents.