Our Misconception: Chris and Candace Wohl

Posted on October 20, 2016 by admin

Our Misconception: The Story of Candace and Chris Wohl
by Jalen Smith

Earlier this year we had the pleasure to sit down with The Wohl Family as they shared their story and long journey to parenthood through gestational surrogacy.

Candace and Chris are a married couple living in Virginia that has struggled to conceive. Candace underwent 5 IVF cycles between a 2 year period, after 6 failed IUIs.

“Each bead represents a shot,” Candace told ART of Infertility’s Maria Novotny, when showcasing a piece of her artwork. The process of having a baby has been a process hard physically, emotionally and financially for the family.

Chris and Candace chose to string a bead for each shot Candace endured.

“We were judged and told by family and friends to not fundraise, that this issue should have been kept private, we were even told to just adopt.” said Chris. The couple’s story is a popular one within the infertility community and was featured on an episode of MTV’s “True Life” in 2013. “It was such a seesaw of emotions, from hope to despair from hope to despair,” said Candace. “There was point where we wouldn’t let ourselves get our hopes up just to be let down again.” MTV did a good job of capturing and telling the emotional heartache involved with infertility. “It was hard for us to watch as we had to relive our last failed IVF.”

The Wohl family eventually found hope in surrogacy. In March 2013 the couple began to start the process to pursue other means of child birth. After finding a surrogate in June 2013 the couple then began the contract signing process and had to wait an additional six months for pregnancy insurance clearance. “The waiting was hard for us, the not knowing if it would work out this time.” In October 2013, they transferred their two remaining embryos to their surrogate. The following month, the couple received the news that they were pregnant, the beta was positive.

Candace wanted to tell her husband the good news that they were pregnant in the best way possible. She shared with us the story of the dusty onesie. “After my first IUI, I was confident and I went out to buy this onesie and card to share with my husband that we were pregnant.” Similar, to those other vulnerable yet monumental moments in life like marriage, she wanted this moment to be special. She wanted it to last. After 6 failed IUIs, Chris had still not seen the onesie, not until that celebratory day in November 2013. “It was one of those things that I held onto, I couldn’t let it go, I’m glad I didn’t because I was fortunately still able to share it with him.”

“It brought it all home to me that she really has endured so much” said Chris after hearing and seeing the dusty onesie story for the first time. The fact that she had kept it for so many years and had taken so many “beads” was a telling story of their struggle for him.

Chris and Candace with the dusty onesie.

“What people don’t understand is we were trying to adopt, there were a lot of people that didn’t agree with surrogacy when it first came out,” said Candace. “We realized early that we had to get tough skin.” To share their story of surrogacy was at first difficult, while the Wohl family can be considered well known members of the community now, the option to choose this route to start their family was troublesome for them.

“If you would have asked me 7 years ago that we would be doing this, I would have not believed you,” said Candace. At the time the couple was in full belief that they would be able to carry a baby to term but years of surgery and failed treatments denied these hopeful parents time and time again.

When the parents to be accepted surrogacy it did come with lots of doubts and concerns for the future. For Candace is was like watching a quarterback play football and she was watching from the sideline. “You hope they can break the tackles, you hope nothing gets in their way on the game winning drive but all you can do is cheer them along.” Candace said. It was a very vulnerable place for her to be, in one in which all she could do is watch and place her hopes for motherhood in the hands of someone else. Chris and Candace were in the room with the surrogate while she was giving birth. Candace held her leg while she pushed and Chris cut the umbilical cord. While their daughter’s birth certificate did not initially feature either of their names, they immediately bonded with her.

Many forget to mention the struggles infertility have on men or many feel the struggles of infertility are not a man’s right to feel bad. The couple briefly talked about this in their sit down with us. After all, it was his wife’s body. But Chris during his sit down with us shared his thoughts on the process. “I was the parent too” Chris said. “My gender is a strong yet vulnerable one, I could never know her full pain but I was there for her the entire ride.” Chris felt that taking a back seat was not an option for him.

Ultimately the couple’s fears of lack of emotional connectivity, lack of compassion from doctors and guilt were lost once their daughter was born in 2014. “All of the worries I had were lost once she was here, I never felt closer to anyone,” Candace stated.

The Wohl family fought a lot on their journey to parenthood, it was never easy, but what they want to do now is educate others. Educate hospitals, doctors and lawyers so that the next couple does not have the complications they did. “It all starts with education,” Candace closed.

To learn more about the Chris and Candace’s story read their blog at ourmisconception.com

#startasking About Parenting After Pregnancy Loss and Infertility – Lauren’s Perspective

Posted on April 28, 2016 by admin

Lauren of Rainbows & Unicorns, a site about parenting after pregnancy loss and infertility, reflects on mothering her daughter who was born after donor egg IVF. This story does include an image of parenting. Thanks for sharing your story with us, Lauren!

I scoop up my toddler and carry her upstairs to begin our bedtime routine. Diaper, pajamas, teeth, goodnight Daddy, books, and then — my favorite part — songs and cuddling.

She lies on my belly, her head against my chest. “Saaah!” When one song ends, she looks up and asks for another. And another. And another. Eventually my little ball of energy goes limp in my arms. I hold her for a few minutes, treasuring her chubby cheeks and the smell of her sweet, malty little head before kissing her goodnight until she wakes up to nurse at four in the morning.

Lauren with her daughter at bedtime.

Although singing the same limited repertoire until my throat hurts and not having more than a five-hour stretch of sleep for almost two years grate in different ways, I remember how it wasn’t always like this. In the tough moments — like trying to console a teething child having an hour-long exhaustion tantrum at 3 am — I somehow find inner strength. I get to do this.

I am a mother thanks to many people, including a younger mom who donated her eggs so that I could experience the same joy she felt when she held her son for the first time.

It wasn’t joy that I felt when I met my daughter. By then, I’d been through too much to let myself feel anything so big. After miscarriage, infertility, being told I would never have a healthy genetic child, and a high-risk pregnancy requiring me to deliver via planned cesarean, I couldn’t allow myself to believe that I was finally a mom. Not until I heard my daughter’s first cries. Not until I held her. Not until she was furiously suckling did it dawn on me that I was out of the trenches.

But am I really a regular parent now? Parenting after infertility is a strange place to be. As I like to describe it, “I’m no longer in the trenches, but I’m covered in mud.”

The grief of infertility is hard to remember. Like the face of someone you loved a long time ago, it’s hard to recollect its features in detail. That is, until a whiff of their perfume, or a pregnancy announcement, or an innocent remark from someone who has no idea why the question “When are you having another baby?” causes your heart to quietly crack a little.

“I’m no longer in the trenches, but I’m covered in mud.”

For many parents like me, we’ve left Infertility Island but we’re moored offshore somewhere else. Play dates with other parents — so many blissfully unaware of everything that can go wrong before, during, and after conception — can have moments that are hard to navigate. How do you relate to another parent who casually announces she plans to get pregnant in March so the baby is born before Christmas? What do you say when someone asks when you’re having another baby? How do you casually explain egg donation when asked where your daughter’s red hair comes from? In time, the answers come.

Don’t misunderstand; none of this is as hard as trying to have a baby. But when you’re a graduating member of a club you never wanted to join, you’re caught between two worlds: the one you had to leave once your child arrived; and the other everyone else assumes you’re in.

I have my “rainbow unicorn” (if a “rainbow” is a baby born after loss, I surmised one born after infertility would be a “unicorn”) and she fills my days with more joy than I thought possible. But joy and pain aren’t mutually exclusive. What a lot of people don’t realize is that having a baby resolves childlessness — not infertility.

You’re caught between two worlds: the one you had to leave once your child arrived; and the other everyone else assumes you’re in.

Even though we’re parents, we’re still infertile. Unless we fall into a small lucky statistic of spontaneously conceiving after infertility, if we want a second or third child we will have to submit to the invasive, sometimes painful, and always expensive tests and protocols we endured a few years before — this is equally true whether you do infertility treatment or adopt.

If we want a second child, we’re lucky to have eight chromosomally normal frozen embryos to choose from. All we have to do is pick a date for transfer. Most of my infertile comrades don’t have leftover embryos, either because they didn’t do IVF or, if they did, they didn’t have any embryos left over. It struck me the other week that some of my friends are going to have to go through the whole TTC thing all over again. They have my full support and admiration.

For me, parenting after infertility has given me some unexpected blessings. First and foremost, I have this amazing little girl in my life. She’s affectionate, smart, talkative, mischievous, and healthy. We might not share DNA, but we share a sense of humor, a love of Marmite, a dislike of tomatoes, and we’re both pretty tall with big feet. Most importantly, she’s here, and she couldn’t have been created any other way. My journey to motherhood was filled with more pain than I thought I could bear, but I’d do it all over again to have this sweet child that I get to call my daughter.

Eighteen months into this parenting gig, I am more or less at peace with a whole lot of stuff that I never thought I’d be able to accept.

I have a chromosome disorder which means genetic children aren’t possible, so I chose egg donation to build my family. I can say that openly and joyfully now that I’m a parent. I can be open about the way my daughter was conceived because the irrational shame of not being able to reproduce has dissipated.

Breastfeeding has been tremendously healing in this respect. I wasn’t expecting much, so I was surprised that it came to me so easily. Being able to feed my daughter they way I hoped has restored faith in my otherwise broken body. My body can’t make a baby that will live, but it’s pretty damn good at growing and feeding them!

Over the last year and a half, I’ve spent days looking into my nursing daughter’s beautiful eyes fixed on my face — the same eyes I admired in our donor. Not recognizing any of my family of origin’s features in my daughter was, at first, strange. Sometimes she looks like her dad, sometimes she looks like our donor. To my surprise, I like seeing our donor’s influence. It’s reassuring to see something of the special woman I chose to replace my DNA reflected in my daughter.

Eighteen months into this parenting gig, I am more or less at peace with a whole lot of stuff that I never thought I’d be able to accept.

You might say I had a crash course in comfort levels, though. My daughter’s hair is a deep red, and every time we’re out three people, on average, stop us to admiringly ask if red hair runs in my family. At first the question made me wince. I didn’t know how to answer the question without also sharing the circumstances of my kid’s conception. I’ve got good at saying, “Nope! But isn’t it beautiful?” When pressed, I explain, “Red hair is a recessive gene, which means both genetic parties have to carry it.” In this way, I’m able to acknowledge my daughter’s genetic origins while not divulging too much to a stranger if I don’t feel like it.

I guess that’s what parenthood is about: constantly being surprised and having to readjust expectations, all the while practicing patience, kindness, and even finding the funny side when something’s gone wrong.

And in that sense, my infertility journey prepared me well.

Lauren is a mother via egg donation, after miscarriage, infertility, and a massive postpartum hemorrhage. She is a writer, editor, and designer at Rainbows-Unicorns.com, a community blog for parenting after pregnancy loss and infertility. Originally from London, Lauren lives in San Diego with her husband and their toddler. Follow her on Twitter at @DEIVFmama.

Art through the Infertility Poetry of Michelle Baranowski

Posted on April 13, 2016 by admin

There are many different forms of artwork that brings people comfort. While some enjoy painting or music, many enjoy poetry instead. Michelle Baranowski is one of those people who find comfort through writing poetry. Poetry is yet another way for people to vent out their frustrations and let the world know how they really feel in a creative way. It is a way to express the pain and sorrow that one is feeling and give people the chance to read and relate to it in a completely personal way. In her poem “The Middle Place”, she explains what it is like to be stuck in between utter happiness and devastating sorrow.

While other kids were saying they wanted to be an astronaut or a princess, Michelle always wanted to be a mom. She could have never guessed at that age that she would not be able to accomplish her lifelong dream of conceiving a child. As she grew up, her childhood innocence was shattered and she realized that it was never going to be as easy as she thought it would be.

When Michelle was a young adult she came out as a lesbian so she knew that there was going to be a less “organic” way for her to conceive. She just knew she was going to have to go about becoming a mother in a different way. Still, she believed that it would happen and couldn’t foresee the struggles that she was going to face in the future to accomplish her lifelong dream.

She is now 30 years old and, after years of trying, she has still not had the ability to get pregnant. It has been a long journey of pain and sorrow, as well as constantly getting her hopes up only to have them smashed by each negative result. She feels as if she is just coexisting in the middle place between pure joy and devastating pain, which is something that many people dealing with infertility can relate too. She decided to share her poem with others so that they can catch a glimpse of what she is feeling as she continues on this journey to having a child.

You can listen to Michelle read her poem, or read it yourself, below.

– Danielle

Michelle, right, with her wife Mandy on their wedding day.

The Middle Place

by Michelle Baranowski

I often talk about the middle place.

The waiting space.

It’s where I find myself most.

Weighted down by time, suffocated by hope.

Not moving forward, not falling behind.

Just walking in circles.

Convincing others “I’m fine”

Incarcerated by a love that burns through the skin and seeps out through weepy eyes.

Anchored by a financial hole I’ve fed, pleading the promised success isn’t a lie.

Like trying to fly a kite, teeming with bricks.

Like a bird, dreaming to fly, with it’s beautiful wings clipped.

Like trying to breathe underwater.

Only to learn you’ll survive.

drowning on the inside, yet seemingly alive.

When the house seems too big

but the accounts are too small

when we learn about families growing

with an anxious, happy call.

Like a bullet to the chest, but with my smile on tight.

My soul defeats and decides whether to fight or to flight.

Sometimes I can get out “I’m so happy for you”

And other times, a nod and a smile is all I am able to do.

The weight of sadness and worry follow me all of the time.

Fretting over savings accounts, credit cards and counting each dime.

Not knowing if our efforts will take flight or be in vain.

Its enough to make even the soundest person insane.

I wish that I was brave.

I wish it was easy to decide

Weather to move on from all of this

Pushing lifelong dreams aside.

I wish I knew for certain that one day I would hold in you in my arms and not just my heart.

It would make the fight all worth it.

Knowing we would never be apart.

So the middle place is where we continue to be.

Waiting, and saving in painful hope.

Waiting for you to set us free.

Male Factor Infertility – Cindy, Paul, and Max’s Story

Posted on March 28, 2016 by admin

Today we’re sharing just a tiny bit of Cindy, Paul, and Max Flynn’s story. After three years of infertility, repeat semen analyses and a testicular biopsy, Cindy and Paul received a definitive answer that Paul had Azoospermia, or no sperm count. They made a decision to try using donor sperm to conceive and Max was born. Paul reflects on the experience below. The post does include images of a child and parenting. Thanks, Cindy, Paul, and Max, for sharing your story!

“I was thinking about donor sperm, adopting. I would have loved for the child we had to be biologically mine and Cindy’s together. I don’t have any feeling that the Flynn line should be extended. There’s no pressure there. We don’t need anymore generations of biological Flynns.”

“My biggest fear, honestly, and I felt this with Max, is that I want to be this child’s daddy. In my mind, I would never be the daddy unless it was biologically my child. I realize now that that’s not (the case). I wake up every morning and Max says, ‘Hey, Daddy’. I come home from work or on lunch and he exclaims, ‘Daddy!’ and it warms my heart.”

“I thought somehow that I wouldn’t have that connection and that even scares me now. I’ve become a lot more comfortable. I’m so happy to have him and I just feel so blessed, but it’s the feeling that somehow he’s not going to consider me his dad. There are no words to describe that. This is kind of an irrational fear I have but that’s that. It’s not on my mind as much these days but it still is on my mind.”

An LGBTQ Journey with Surrogacy

Posted on February 16, 2016 by admin

Here at ART of Infertility we strive to share a diverse community of stories including those that feature LGBTQ experiences. This past July, at a hotel in California, Maria and Elizabeth met with Rob and Scotty, a couple trying to conceive a child by using an egg donor and a gestational carrier. A gestational carrier, or gestational surrogate, is a woman who carries a baby created using a donor egg, not her own, while a traditional surrogate both provides the egg and the womb. Together for five years, Rob and Scotty have tried multiple times to conceive and are sharing their story in order to educate those about the journey and struggles that they have been through. We are proud to showcase Rob and Scotty’s journey to have children together.

Lauren

Rob has always wanted children. He can remember being a member of the online community, “Surrogate Moms Online” for almost ten years, looking for egg donors and surrogates to carry his child. At this point, he doesn’t even remember how he found the group, it has just always been a resource to utilize.

Jump to October 2009, when Rob met Scotty and they began dating. At this point, Rob had already been trying to have children for quite a while with a traditional surrogate and Scotty was still a student trying to finish up his degree. Early in their relationship, when Rob was still in the process of working with a traditional surrogate, Scotty realized that he wanted to have children too.

Scotty and Rob waiting in the lobby at the site of the egg donation.

“When we were dating, he was doing that process and in our relationship I didn’t feel that the kid was going to be mine if it did actually become successful, it would just be, I’m dating this person and that’s their kid.”

Scotty explained that that was the moment when he realized he wanted to have kids with Rob. He didn’t know when but he knew that eventually, that would be the right move. Because he was still in school, it wasn’t quite the perfect time but he pitched the idea to Rob and proposed that their kids be at least half-siblings by using an egg donor and a gestational carrier. Scotty confirms, “That’s how I always wanted to approach it and I was glad he was on board.”

Rob agreed and they did plenty of research. After going to a surrogate “get-together” in the area, Rob and Scotty realized that it would be perfect to use a gestational carrier in order for all of their children to have the same maternal DNA through an egg donor.

According to Rob, it made sense to utilize the same maternal DNA and then use a separate gestational carrier, “Because we’re having two or three kids” and a traditional surrogate might not want to undergo another pregnancy.

When the time was right, Rob and Scotty began trying to conceive with the help of Doctor Aimee, their reproductive endocrinologist. After securing both an egg donor and what Rob and Scotty call an “oven” they were ready to begin the process. When asked what an “oven” is, Rob laughs and explains that an oven is a gestational carrier who does not provide the eggs, she just acts as the carrier.

After plenty of blood tests and paperwork, both men provided sperm samples in order to have multiple embryos. When determining whose embryo would be transferred to the donor first, it was clear to Scotty that Rob had been waiting a long time to have a child. “I’m going to love our kid the same, it doesn’t matter, it’s the same. We’ve talked about having them one year a part.”

Scotty fills out paperwork before one of their appointments with Doctor Aimee.

Rob and Scotty seem to have it all strategically planned out but they still have some concern for what the future might hold. They’re cautiously optimistic about their future children and take everything one step at a time.

“We don’t tell anybody where we are in the process. My parents are both passed but my sister knew we wanted kids.” Rob explains that it is difficult to update friends, Facebook acquaintances and everyone else on their quest to have a baby when their situation is so precarious. “It sucks but it sucks more when you have to start telling the world, ‘Oh yeah, that didn’t happen.’”

When it comes to Scotty’s family, things are a bit more difficult. His family isn’t even aware that they are trying and according to Rob, “We don’t know how she’s [Scotty’s mom] going to react either because of their Latin culture and he was brought up Mormon but his mom does accept me, she likes me.”

Scotty knows that he’s going to wait a bit to tell his family when the time comes. “I mean, my siblings know that I want to be a parent one day but like he said, they don’t even know where we are in that process.”

Rob and Scotty planted a tree on the day their embryos were created.

Despite the caution and waiting, Scotty already knows how he would tell his family of the news. He plans on testing out the news with his siblings while out to dinner, featuring an ultrasound image. After that, he’ll tell his parents. I want to have them come over for dinner. I want to make food that I cooked with my mom and my dad that they taught me. I could tell them ‘Hey you guys passed this down to me and I know how to cook this and that.’” Scotty’s idea is that he would pass those traditions on to his own children in order to honor his parents.

To some, it may seem like a lot of planning and strategy to tell the family something so exciting. For Rob and Scotty, it’s everything. They know that their situation isn’t necessarily traditional and that is why they exercise so much caution when it comes to the subject of growing their family. They’ve had some success but endured quite a bit of pain along the way and it is difficult to take a step back and admit that things didn’t work out.

It’s been a long road for Rob and Scotty–an even longer one for Rob. For now, they’ll continue to document their journey and share their story with others who are experiencing the same struggle. Rob excitedly showed Maria and Elizabeth some photos of their experience. As he flipped through the images, he explained each detail. “So this is in the car before we left to go do the egg donation. That’s Starbucks when we got the newspaper and then driving there. This is outside there. This is where the donation is. And then this is in the lobby area.”

A cute little stress reliever while driving to an appointment.

The two are still working on the process and hope that something good will happen soon. Although it’s difficult to always be patient, they’re working toward their goal and they’ll remember every step of the way, thanks to modern technology. Hopefully one day, they’ll be able to share their pictures with their kids and enlighten other LGBT families with their experience. We here at ART of Infertility wish them all the best.

From Infertility to Fatherhood – My Journey So Far

Posted on September 30, 2015 by admin

This week’s blog is a guest post by Fred Harlan. We want to disclose a trigger warning, which is something we will do from here on out when we feel it’s needed, that this post does include images of a baby and of parenting. Fred and his wife Andrea are ART of Infertility project participants who we met in Southern California. They shared their story with us via an interview and also attended our pop-up art exhibit and workshops in Calabasas during National Infertility Awareness Week this year. Thanks, Fred, for sharing your family’s story!

From Infertility to Fatherhood – My Journey So Far

I am going to tell you something that I always hated to hear. At least, I used to at a point in time in my life. My wife and I were far along down that lonely path we were traveling in the midst of our infertility journey. The meandering road had become increasingly dark and dank. It was becoming more apparent that the chances of a successful IVF cycle using my wife’s eggs and my sperm was unlikely. Some people in our lives would say the obvious thought to them, and insensitive comment to us, that we could “always adopt.” Even the medical and therapeutic people that we sought out had begun to talk to us about “other options” to parenthood. I simply wasn’t ready to hear it, let alone think about it.

As time passed reality crept in. After many failed procedures, buckets of tears and a ton of soul searching, my wife and I eventually came to the realization that some how, some way, we really wanted to have a child. In order to make that happen we slowly began to look into other possible options. Now, after eight plus years of infertility and 10 months of fatherhood what I want to tell you is this: regardless of how long you have been battling or the reasons for your infertility, that if you are resolved in your desire to have a child no matter what, my message of hope is that there is a way. It may not be the way to parenthood that you envisioned but there are paths that can take you there. Not all roads are available to everyone for various reasons – emotional, cultural, religious or financial. But I know there is a potential path(s) available to everyone. You just have to be in a place along your own journey to be open to consider other possibilities.

Fred and Andrea during their ART of IF photo session.

Ten months ago my son, Gehrig, came into our lives. He was born of my wife’s womb, my sperm and a donor’s egg. Being his father is a joy that is incomparable to any other, a reality that I still almost cannot believe and an opportunity, considering the circumstances, which I long thought I never would consider. Like I was saying, my wife and I decided that parenthood was what we definitely wanted. However, with each failed IVF cycle the medical opinion increasing appeared evident that the quality of my wife’s eggs was our challenge. Knowing my wife’s heartache and my wanting to always tackle infertility as a team, I suggested to my wife that our future child should be either “both of ours or neither of ours” genetically. Honestly, I couldn’t imagine how I would feel had the circumstances been that of our future child being biologically hers and not mine, so I didn’t want her to have to imagine it either.

Egg donation seemed so unnatural, so complicated and so not us. We didn’t want to be “one of those couples.” Besides, there were so many questions that came along with egg donation. Would my wife be able to completely accept and love a child that was not biologically her own? Would the donor want to be a part of his and our life? What if he doesn’t look like us, and then what would we say when asked, “whom does he look like?” What would we tell family and friends? And what if years down the road our son had a health issue and would benefit from knowing detailed medical history? And the really big question: what would we tell our son? Although we knew several people who had chosen the egg donor route and were very happy with their choice, it just didn’t feel like the right option for us. So we closed the door on this alternative and proceeded in educating ourselves on the different avenues of adoption, including that of embryo adoption. During this time my wife realized that the concept of being pregnant and carrying a child was extremely important to her, especially considering her doctors believed she would be able to carry a child. So it appeared that embryo adoption was the answer that life was steering us toward. At least that is what we thought until a comedy of errors (a story for another day) resulted in my wife’s sister volunteering to be a surrogate or give us her eggs or whatever we needed, led us to think about egg donation one more time. It was during this period that I realized that having a child who was biologically mine was more important than I had allowed myself to think. Another series of events led us to our eventual donor (another story for another day) and the rest as they say is history.

Looking back on everything we went through I have one more thing to say that someone struggling with infertility may not want to hear either, and I understand why – I was in your shoes. But now I need to say it, I have to say it, because it is my truth. I would not change a thing. At least not if it meant I wouldn’t have Gehrig today. If you told me ten years ago, “Fred, I have good news for you and I have bad news. The bad news is that you are going to go to hell and back again and again and again in your attempt to become a father. You are going to doubt yourself as a man, a person and as a husband. You and your wife are going to go through heartbreak after heartache, and you are going to have to be the rock that supports your wife all while you can barely stand on your own. You will doubt your dreams, your wife, your faith and life itself. You will sit in the depths of despair that appear to have no escape, no hope and no resolve. However, at the end you will be given an amazing little boy to love!” Knowing everything that I know today, I would sign up for that in a New York minute.

We have all heard some variation of the motivational phrase, “Life is not a destination, it’s a journey.” I always wanted to believe that was true but some how never found a way to make it work in my life. Stress and frustration seemed to win out more than I would have liked. Then one afternoon, after my wife and I participated in a vision board workshop – an activity hosted and encouraged by our infertility counselor – in order to assist us in visualizing the life for which we hoped, I realized my board was not complete. I had one picture with a saying to represent my life’s journey that simply was not ringing true for me. In fact, it was pretty lame. So decided to scour the Internet for an image that would adequately represent my life’s road. Beaches speak to me and as I scanned many coastal images I came across one. As soon as I saw it I know my vision board was complete. It was the picture of foam-crested waves gently meeting the sand in which were inscribed the following words: “The journey is the reward.” That rephrasing of all those old Successories/Sky Mall posters spoke to me differently somehow. I didn’t know it exactly at the time, but now I do. And as I look at that photo posted on my desk as I type, I can say that my journey is indeed my reward.

Fred shares a vision board that his wife, Andrea, made during their journey at the ART of IF pop up exhibit and workshops in Calabasas, CA during National Infertility Awareness Week in 2015. Photo by Chrystal Starr Photography.

I often speak about infertility as a journey. Each couple, each person who is faced with the disease goes through similar experiences and yet at the same time a journey all her or his own. I did not realize it as I was going through it – how could I, it was just too emotional, too raw – but in retrospect, I realize that I was being prepared for what life had in store for me – not just to be a father, but to be a father to this little boy, here and now. I have always wanted to be a dad, and had I become one earlier in life I’m sure that I would have relished it and been a good one. However, becoming a parent at this point in my life I know that I am so much better prepared for fatherhood than I would have as a younger man. I am more grounded, more secure emotionally and less anxious. I am not missing as much time with Gehrig as I am sure that I would have years ago while building a previous business. I am home more and with Gehrig frequently despite building a new practice. I’m often the lone dad in the “Mommy and Me” new parent classes.

The dad I am today is not solely because of the length of time it took to become one, but also as a direct result from my infertility journey. For example, I am more patient and flexible than I used to be. This is a benefit to Gehrig but also to Andrea as we parent him together. Also, the perfectionist that I am has been able to let go of having to do things in a specific “right” way and being tied to specific outcomes. When Gehrig didn’t nurse right away I didn’t panic (don’t ask me about my wife), rather we sought help. He turned into a nursing machine. When Gehrig didn’t crawl when he should have we enjoyed what he was doing (rolling everywhere) and asked for advice. Now Gehrig is on the move. Had I been a parent years ago I would have been looking at the situation thinking: “what is wrong with my kid!”

Once we found out that Andrea’s pregnancy was viable I made up my mind that I would “take it all” – I would change every dirty diaper, listen to every cry, dry every tear and wipe up every spit up with a smile on my face. I laugh when I fly Gehrig over my head like Superman and he drools on my shirt, my glasses or even my mouth. I do not care. No, that is not true – actually I care a lot, in fact I love it. He is my son and I waited too long and tried too hard to have him to not enjoy every moment. And I have learned that some of the best moments are the simplest, such as at the end of the day when I am rocking him to sleep. His head lays on my shoulder and has he surrenders to sleep his neck gives way to the weight of his head which nestles into the nape of my neck. I continue to rock him for another ten minutes or so to ensure he is asleep, but mostly because that time is priceless to me. Each and every night I think to myself how life prepared me those moments, and I’m so grateful that I’m not missing a second of it by simply hurrying to get my son to bed.

Fred, Gehrig, and Andrea during their ART of IF photo session.

You may be saying, “well, that is great for you Fred, you are one of the lucky ones, you were able to have a biological child. What about your wife? What about all the people who are not able to have a biological child?” My response is this: those are fair questions and it is reasonable to ask them. It is important to note that during the process of choosing egg donation, I grieved significantly for the child that I always thought Andrea and I would have together. In the end perhaps I am lucky – I am definitely fortunate – or perhaps we made our own luck to opening ourselves up to other possibilities to parenthood. This is not a commercial for egg donation or parenthood, rather it is intended to inspire hope in infertile couples who have definitely decided or are at least thinking they still want to be parents some how, some way. And as for my wife, she feels pretty fortunate herself. She will tell you, what I will tell you, that Gehrig is 100% hers. She carried him in her womb, feeds him from her breast and is a completely devoted mother in raising him and that is what is important to her. Likewise, I know many people who have adopted newborns, babies, children and even embryos, and all without fail will tell you that their child is indeed their child and was from the moment that child entered their lives. At the end of the day it is the emotional bond that matters, not the means by which the child arrived in your life.

I wholeheartedly believe that Andrea and I were meant to be parents, and once we figured out that part, life opened new opportunities for us to become so. I also believe that my son was meant to be and meant to be in our lives at this moment in time. He didn’t come to us the way we thought he would, but that no longer is a concern. Years ago it was difficult to think about, let alone see, that life’s journey was preparing me, actually all three of us, not for the live we envisioned, but the life we were meant to live.¹That’s my journey – so far.

¹A variation of a quote by Joseph Campbell.

Fred Harlan, MA² is a resourceful Marriage and Family Therapist Intern who works with couples and individuals on relationship issues, and men and couples coping with infertility (theirs or their partner’s). Fred holds Master’s Degrees in Clinical Psychology and Speech Communication. Fred@FredHarlan.net.

Tri-State, NJ Walk of Hope

Posted on July 17, 2015 by admin

Maria and I met when we both attended RESOLVE: The National Infertility Association’s Advocacy Day in Washington, D.C. in May of 2014 and quickly bonded over the fact that we were both peer-led support group hosts for the organization. RESOLVE’s signature fundraising event is their Walk of Hope, which takes place around the country.

The ART of IF will be at the Tri-State walk in New Jersey on September 12. We’ll be a community sponsor, to help further RESOLVE’s wonderful work in advocating legislation that helps those with infertility build their families. Our table will have examples from the exhibit on display and we will be doing mini interviews for that project. We’re also putting together a fundraising team. Let us know if you’d like to join us!

Jenna Marinelli is the chair of the walk this year and we’ve asked her to tell us some more about the walk and her personal reasons for walking through our blog this week. Thanks, Jenna, for sharing your story!

Elizabeth

RESOLVE: The National Infertility Association is hosting the 1^st Annual Tri-State Walk of Hope and we are looking for you to join us!!

The Walk of Hope is RESOLVE’s signature fundraising event. This is a community event that recognizes the many ways in which families are built, supports local support services and programs for the 7.4 million men and women living with infertility. A Walk of Hope event represents the infertility journey—a series of small steps, each one filled with hope and a reminder that no one with infertility should walk alone. One Morning, One Mile, One Community.

Local facts:

More than 992,000 women in the Tri-State area (New York, Connecticut, New Jersey and Pennsylvania) are impacted by infertility.
There are only 30 peer-led support groups in the Tri-State area.
New York, New Jersey and Connecticut have insurance mandates for fertility coverage.

After participating in the Washington, D.C. Walk of Hope for past 3 years, I am honored to be the Chair of the inaugural Tri-State Walk of Hope on September 12th, 2015 at Overpeck County Park – Ridgefield Park Area in New Jersey. This event gives me the incredible opportunity to connect with others struggling with their own infertility, often silently and alone.

Jenna has raised the most for the Washington, D.C. Walk for multiple years. She’s now taking her energy to NJ as the Tri-State walk’s chair.

My story dates back to June 2010, exactly one year after marrying my high school sweetheart, when I was diagnosed with Premature Ovarian Failure at the age of 26. POF is defined as the loss of ovarian function before the age of 40. It occurs in 1 in 1,000, or 1%, of women between the ages of 15 and 29, with the average onset being 27 years old. Currently, there is no cure and no proven treatment that can restore the normal functioning of the ovaries or fertility. Women with POF are recommended IVF with donor eggs or to pursue adoption. POF also has lifelong health implications beyond fertility, particularly with regard to cardiovascular and bone health with greater risks for developing osteoporosis, estrogen deficiency and heart disease.

As of today, my infertility “resume” includes 3 failed IUI’s, 4 cancelled IVF’s using my eggs, and 1 Donor Egg IVF that ended in a Chemical Pregnancy. We do not live in a state that mandates infertility coverage (PA), so we pay out of pocket for everything. This is why we need everyone’s help raising awareness to infertility, so hopefully one day there will be more options & treatments available for couples faced with this disease. We are currently gearing up for our next cycle using Frozen Donor Eggs! I hope that sharing my journey can bring awareness and help even one person. I am a survivor! I will beat infertility!

Please join me for this walk so that no one struggles alone. Registration is free and all are welcome to attend. Both teams and individuals may register. The Walk of Hope also offers fun and activities for all ages. All funds donated will go directly to RESOLVE to further its work. Visit our website today at resolve.org/tristatewalk.

The walk will be held at the beautiful Overpeck County Park.

The walk will be held at the beautiful Overpeck Country Park.

Other ways to help

Follow the Tri-State Walk of Hope on Facebook and Twitter.

We need talented, dedicated, and hard-working volunteers to plan, promote and implement the Walk of Hope. For more information, please contact Jenna Marinelli at njnywalkofhope@gmail.com for details. Volunteering for the Tri-State Walk of Hope is a great way to support the hundreds of thousands of people diagnosed with infertility and have some fun! Each year we rely on the generosity of dozens of volunteers to create a very successful event for the infertility community.

To sponsor the Tri-State Walk of Hope please contact Jenna Marinelli at njnywalkofhope@gmail.com or Jenlene Nowak at 703.556.7172. Our sponsoring partners are very important to RESOLVE’s Walk of Hope. Your support of this event will allow RESOLVE to create a great day for all those choosing to walk with us. Plus you’ll show your clients and customers that people with infertility matter.

Jenna

The Stories We Tell: Reflections from Northern California

Posted on July 9, 2015 by admin

This week has been another busy moment for The ART of Infertility. We are in Northern California, reaching out to local infertility support groups and meeting local infertility professionals to help us host an art exhibit in 2016. These meetings have been going well and we are excited about how the project has been received so far.

Maria got this great shot of the Golden Gate Bridge from the plane.

In preparing for this trip, we finally made a “FAQ” sheet. This sheet provides a bit more detail about the project, our history and future goals. We encourage you to download it and share it with those who may be interested. And if you are interested in having us come to your city to either interview you, host an art/writing workshop, or an exhibit, please reach out to us!

Some of the participants at our cigar box collage workshop busy at work.

Some of the participants at our cigar box collage workshop in Citrus Heights busy at work.

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, we have been (yet again) reminded of how powerful all of our meetings can be during our travels. For example, this past week, we met @Brave_IVF_Mama. She shared with us a bit of her story. Talking to her, we were reminded of the continued need for infertile wo/men to be advocates and resources for each other. @Brave_IVF_Mama embraces her infertility identity and serves serving as a resource for those in the infertile community. We were particularly struck when she told us about a comprehensive book review she did on children’s books about egg donation. This blog post posted a complete list of relevant books on the topic but also — pretty honestly — examines their positives and negatives. We encourage you all to check out this blog and @brave_IVF_mama as a useful and relevant resource.

Most of all, in talking to @brave_IVF_mama, we were reminded of the importance of stories. Of how having your infertility story is important. But in finding your own individual “resolve”, there are multiple stories. Stories about how you frame your decision to your friends/family. And, perhaps most significantly, stories about how you talk to your future children about their own conception story.

We left leaving this meeting feeling empowered about the ways that The ART of Infertility continues to teach us – Elizabeth and Maria – the multiple ways our own infertility network can teach us and serve as resources for honoring our own stories. We leave this blog post asking all of you, how has your infertility story evolved and changed over the days/months/years and who now is a part of this story? For Elizabeth and I, our infertility story includes all of you – our loyal and supportive followers. Hearing and sharing your stories have helped us heal and cope with our own infertility stories. We are thankful and grateful for all of your sharing. We hope that we continue to learn and grow from these experiences throughout our years.

In gratitude,

Elizabeth & Maria

Our first night in the area, in Nob Hill.

Angela’s Advocacy Day Interview

Posted on June 29, 2015 by admin

Maria and I had the pleasure of documenting a bit of Angela’s story when we were in Washington, D.C. last month. Angela did multiple rounds of IVF with both her own eggs and donor eggs before adopting her son domestically. Thanks, Angela, for sharing your story with us so others will know they are not alone!

Elizabeth

Angela talks about her experience with open adoption and the frequency with which she has contact with her son’s birth mother.

For more information on adoption, the Creating a Family website is a great resource. They even have a radio show that can how information on the different types of adoption and how to decide which one is right for you and this quick comparison chart on the different types of adoption.

Angela is a RESOLVE: The National Infertility Association Ambassador and a peer-led support group host. You can play the audio clip to hear about how Angela got involved with the organization. (She references Redbook’s Truth About Trying campaign in this clip. You can check out some of the videos from the campaign at this link but will have to scroll to the bottom to find them.)

Click on this link to find a RESOLVE support group near you. If there isn’t one in your area, you can email info@resolve.org to talk to someone about starting one. There’s no substitute for in person, “real life” groups and the support they provide. It was through a RESOLVE support group that I became comfortable with my diagnosis, sharing my story, and ultimately wanting to do infertility advocacy, resulting in ART of Infertility!

ART of IF

The official blog of the traveling art exhibit and oral history project, ART of Infertility.

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