Sandra Glahn - When Empty Arms Become a Heavy Burden: Encouragement for Couples Facing Infertility

WHEN
EMPTY ARMS
BECOME A
HEAVY BURDEN

E NCOURAGEMENT FOR C OUPLES
F ACING I NFERTILITT

SANDRA GLAHN &
WILLIAM CUTRER, MD

When Empty Arms Become a Heavy Burden: Encouragement for Couples Facing Infertility

1996, 2010, 2011 by Sandra Glahn and William Cutrer Second Edition

Published in 2010 by Kregel Publications, a division of Kregel, Inc., P.O. Box 2607, Grand Rapids, MI 49501.

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For all who feel wounds
that only the Great Physician can heal.

With love and gratitude to
Gary and Jane.

I think I just need to relax, I told the doctor, who looked at me with kind eyes. Id just had my annual gynecological examination. Were putting in long hours with our youth group, I work full-time, and my husband just finished seminary. Weve probably been too busy to hit it right.

How long have you been trying? he asked quietly.

About eighteen months.

He rolled his chair closer. No, I think maybe its time to stop just relaxing. There are a few simple things we can try. The pace is up to you.

I had bought into the myth that helped me remain in a state of denial: If you have trouble conceiving, you just need to relax and youll get pregnant. It would be several years before I would learn the definition of infertility as the inability to conceive after one year of unprotected intercourseeven if the couple is paying no attention to the monthly cycle. Infertility also includes the inability to carry a child to term. Ninety-five percent of those who fit one of these descriptions have diagnosable medical problems that no amount of relaxing will help. But the good news is that, with treatment, over half of those diagnosed as infertile will go on to celebrate a live birth.

I never thought I would join the one in six Americans of childbearing age who have fertility problems. I had sworn I would never take my temperature every day, nor would I become obsessed with getting pregnant as some of my friends had done. I had never considered myself a baby person. So I left the doctors office and didnt return for another eighteen months.

Finally, we decided to seek further help. Dr. William Cutrer came highly recommended. Not only was he a competent physician, he was also pursuing a masters degree in biblical studies. He had a reputation for being a kind and loving man of God. I wish I could say we hit it off from the beginning, but our doctorpatient relationship got off to a rocky start. This was mostly due to the fact that many of my friends saw him, and I rebelled against what I felt was their doctor-worship. I also felt angry with the process of infertility treatment, and Dr. Cutrer seemed like a safe place to direct my negative feelings. My husband, Gary, had been loving throughout the entire process, so I didnt want to focus my rage on him, and I knew better than to be mad at God because, as I told myself, He can do lightning. So Dr. Bill, although I liked him, often served as the dart-board catching the arrows of bad feelings that I hurled in his direction.

Dr. Bill began by testing Gary, who appeared to have no problem. Most people assume that infertility is the womans problem, but only between 30 and 40 percent of infertility problems reside exclusively in the woman, 30 to 40 percent in the man, and approximately 30 to 40 percent are shared between husband and wife.

The doctor also suspected I had a structural problem that he felt could have been caused by in utero exposure to DESdiethylstilbestrol, a medication sold for about thirty years beginning in the 1940s, which physicians often prescribed to reduce chances of miscarriage. The FDA banned its use after discovering it sometimes caused some structural abnormalities, even cancer, in the children (known as DES daughters and sons) of women who took it.

So I had a laparoscopy. This outpatient surgical procedure confirmed no major structural problems and only minimal endometriosis. I spent another year charting my morning temperature, watching my ovaries on the ultrasound screen, taking medication for a mild hormonal imbalance, redefining spontaneous, and paying multiple medical bills.

Over this period, too, Gary and I experienced a host of emotions. We began to feel hurt and annoyed at people who said the wrong thing. We felt helpless in our ability to make long-term plansI couldnt even buy a pair of jeans without wondering if they would fit in three months. I felt like I was less of a woman. I enjoyed my editing/public relations position with a financial services corporation, but I wanted to stay home. My career goals became uncertain. Our pride was injured, our privacy invaded, and our love life a chore at times. We asked God, Why us? and Why does this hurt so much?

For the first time I found I could think of little else besides succeeding in this battle. During those early difficult days, I asked Dr. Bill if he had a support group for his patients. He told me he didnt, but that one of his patients served as a volunteer with a national consumer group for infertility patients. He asked Jennifer to call me. She and I met at a restaurant one day after work, and I found myself laughing more than I had in months. Finally, Id found someone who understood why I felt somewhat insane.