What to Wear To Fertility Appointments

What to Wear To Fertility Appointments

As we make choices about what to do next after losing the twins, I'm reminded of something that I thought a lot about when we did our first official round of fertility treatments: what do I wear? That might sound silly and frivolous given the weight and emotional intensity of every part of that experience, from testing to treatment and beyond. But, being comfortable and feeling like myself mattered a lot to me during that time; also, being intentional about what I wore helped me to feel empowered in a situation that can feel overwhelming.

Tank via

Here's what I found:

• It helps to wear something special. 
• It's wise to look for pieces of clothing that a woman might wear in her very early pregnancy, and
• Skirts or dresses are better than pants for any procedures below the belt. 

Let's take this one by one, shall we?

It helps to wear something special.

This Gap dress would be perfect since it flows away from the body!

There were mornings going to the fertility clinic before work that I just did not feel like wearing anything special at all. Do not force yourself! But, it did help me to think about this as an incredibly special, and even romantic, time by taking the time to wear a special pair of earrings or a bright color (even lipstick!) instead of what I really wanted to wear (a maxi skirt or PJs) every day.

Above, you'll see a few necklaces that are important to me. I wore them every day during this time, and even on a weekend trip for an appointment I wore earrings-and a hat, which makes me feel just like myself. I really enjoyed the times when my husband came with me (to all longer appointments but not to early morning blood draws) and we set aside time to have breakfast or lunch after the appointment. Dressing up helped me feel like we were having a date, not just talking about egg quality, hence the big fun earrings. 

It's wise to look for pieces of clothing that a woman might wear in her very early pregnancy

A trapeze shirt won't cling or show any swelling.

Now, I am not, NOT, NOT recommending that you buy maternity clothes. I had one maxi dress that was maternity (it was the only cute one at Target at the time), and it depressed me to see the word "maternity" on it when we didn't actually get pregnant. Maybe you'd be fine with that (and of course I hope you do get pregnant the very first time!!), but don't risk it. What I mean is that you should, before you start IUI or IVF, pick out things from your closet or from a friend's closet or from a store that have forgiving waistbands.

Elastic waist and stylish? Do it.

My belly really got swollen from the injections, and it was just not comfortable to wear pants that were at all tight around my waist even a few weeks later. Instead, I wore skirts that sat higher up on my waist, pants with stretchy or tie waistbands, and shirts that did not cling to my stomach at all. I did not want anyone to think I was pregnant (and ask me, and I'd say no). I liked trapeze tops.

Skirts or dresses are better than pants for any procedures below the belt

For the actual internal and external ultrasounds and the procedures, I found that I liked wearing a skirt or dress best because it meant that I didn't have to completely undress from the waist down. I simply pulled it up over my hips. Psychologically, it felt warmer, less uncomfortable and exposed to do this rather than sitting there, sometimes for long periods of time, partially nude. Another key is to wear socks since you can often keep at least those on. The chair/table can be very chilly, and I felt I was more relaxed the warmer I was.

This Gap fold over skirt would be comfy and hide any swelling!

 My husband was very cute and actually bought me several pairs of fuzzy, happy socks. These ship fast and would be a great gift for anyone you know who is doing fertility treatments! As would cotton, dark colored undies. TMI? Sorry, but they would! 

Hope this helps anyone considering fertility treatments or her friends!

Almost a Mother, Not Quite

Almost a Mother, Not Quite

It is from the other side of these feelings that I decided to post something I wrote a few weeks ago. I have had friends visit since then and have put away most of the things we had set up for the twins. I'm mostly doing better, but it felt important to me to share those thoughts I had in the hopes that you will share with a friend or that if you have a friend who suffers a similar loss you might have a better sense of how to help. I'm not ready to have a conversation about this online, though, so I'm closing the comments. If you'd like to share your experience around loss or to share something with me, please send me an email. If you'd like to tell me that "it will all work out," please don't. I do appreciate all of you who hold our hope for us; we'll need it when we're ready to hope again.

 

This is the nursery that we built. These are the freshly painted walls, the star light on the wall. These are the twin cribs, no bumpers, organic sheets, organic mattresses, one borrowed, one purchased. They said that if this happened, it would hurt less that way. That way, the story goes, you can "just" return the borrowed one to your co-worker and keep the other one for "another baby." Insert image of myself carrying the empty, borrowed-but-unused-crib into my office and depositing it with stunned co-worker (mother of three under three, got pregnant on her honeymoon). Nono, I'd say, I'm fine. After all, the story goes, "there's a plan for me" and "I'll be a mother one day." That's the thing, I've found, about the Motherhood Story or the Journey to Motherhood or whatever epic title you'd like to lend it. It's an unspoken club that you never wanted to join, those of us for whom (not) becoming a mother has more to do with ovulation strips and timed intercourse and parenting seminars and homestudy interviews, finger prints and finger pricks, and writing checks than with honeymoons. "Just get really drunk!" they say casually because, I know, I know, they're not sure what else to say.

The story we all learned is far easier to spout off. I lived for more than two and a half decades (you're all calculating my age now and wondering if that's why we haven't conceived. I don't blame you, I'd have done it, too, before) believing, truly believing, what I learned in sex ed: all it takes it one sperm and BAM! You'll get pregnant. The "watch out!" was both implicit and spoken. If that were the case, then my nursery would be full of friends oohhing and ahhing over the stars on the changing pad and the little outfits I sewed from well-loved shirts representing the places we've visited and the sports teams my husband loves. (Yes, we've "taken advantage" knowing that "once the babies come, you won't be going anywhere!"). Instead, these are the twin Bumbos with trays, and these are the preemie hats and socks, and this is the empty nursery where no one visit and no one coos.

"Write your own story," they say, and I do. I write letters in my head that start with things like "Dear Ovaries" and end with the words "F you." Or I find anyone else who has ever suffered a loss and tell them the things I want people to be telling me: You've suffered an enormous loss. You never held them, but those babies were yours. You must be so sad. You must be so angry. And those feelings make perfect sense. Can I take you out to dinner? How about watching a movie, something funny to distract you or something sad so you can cry? How many gluten free cupcakes can I bring you after work? Do you need any help with the things in the nursery? Did you get the flowers I left on the porch?

Because I have my own stories I'd like to tell about what their lives will look like or how they would have laughed at the play mat I was making them. I'd like to show it off, still.

So no matter the story you're telling yourself about her, if you have a friend or a neighbor or a coworker who has suffered the loss of a matched adoption, reach out. Yes, she knew it could happen, but no, she wasn't prepared, and she's not comforted by the stories you want to tell her, that "there's a plan" for her. As much as you might believe it, and one day she might, too, for now it feels like the plan is for her to sit, sad, in a quiet nursery. You could help her leave there sooner, just by sitting there with her truth. She was almost a mother, almost, not quite.