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Inconceivable: A Woman's Triumph over Despair and Statistics (Anglais) Broché – 9 octobre 2001

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Description du produit

Extrait

1

Diagnosis

Oh, if there were in me one seed without rust . . .

--Czeslaw Milosz, The Song

I love teaching. After twenty years of working in the theater, I recently got a master's degree and was lucky enough to land a job teaching Russian and musical comedy in the hottest junior high school in Manhattan.

But Kathryn, our daughter's baby-sitter, has quit. Now Ellena wants to have nothing to do with any of the possible replacements. Except one. Me. She is only ten months old, and every time I leave the room her wailing reels me back in. There is only one thing to do: stay home until she becomes more comfortable with new people.

After a couple of weeks at home, I realize Kathryn's sudden departure was a gift. I would never have dared to choose full-time motherhood over work. Never found out how much I enjoyed the preciously unhurried hours with my daughter: cruising with the baby backpack through our morning errands, walking around the Columbia University campus just north of us, or savoring our raisin bagel in the nearby bakery. We live in a fifteen-story prewar building across from Riverside Park, and if I lean far enough out the kitchen window, I can see a patch of green. It's not unusual to meet up with a cluster of park-bound strollers in the lobby. Within a week, Ellena and I are part of a neighborhood play group. As long as we can manage financially, I will teach in the evenings and continue being a full-time mom. Thankfully, my husband, Ed, supports my decision.

There is an added bonus to all this. With no teaching schedule to consider, the second baby could come anytime. Let's see, if it arrived nine months from now, my two children would be only nineteen months apart. Lying in bed at night, I take a deep breath and imagine movement under the slope of my belly. I see myself lean against the weight of a double stroller and wonder whether it will fit through our front door.

Three months later, I'm still a full-time mom, now a part-time teacher of English to speakers of other languages at Hunter College. It seems Ellena's sibling is taking a little longer than we anticipated. I'm not really concerned. After all, the last time I got pregnant on the first try. Three months is not very long. But I'm forty-two. A consultation with my gynecologist might be in order.

"We should take an FSH test," suggests Dr. Y. "It's one of the first things we look at in women over forty." A week later I call for the results.

"Oh, yes," reports the nurse, "your numbers are fine, within normal range." A sigh of relief, a phone call to Ed, all is well. In a few days I call to schedule further testing. I am stunned to find out that, although the numbers are not "abnormal," all is not well.

"The follicle-stimulating hormone helps the follicles inside your ovaries to develop into eggs. If the level is--over 20--" Dr. Y pauses--"your ovaries are not working as well as they should be. With an FSH of 42 there is not much I can do for you. You'll need to see a fertility specialist."

I sleepwalk through the rest of the day. How could I have been so arrogant, ignoring my age? Did I think my biological clock had stopped ticking just because it took me so long to find the right man? We should have started trying sooner. And what is my problem? Why does this hurt so much when I already have the most wonderful daughter in the world? How dare I lament with all those childless couples out there? Yet I can't undo the feeling of despair. I know how much Ed wants to have another child and how much we would love Ellena to have a sibling. Dr. Y refers me to a specialist. That must mean a specialist can help.

Dr. N strikes the first blow.

"I'm sorry," says the receptionist. "Dr. N will not accept you as a patient. Your FSH is too high. He doesn't feel he could help you." A decent man, he is saving me money. Yet all I hear is that it's so bad, he doesn't even want to try.

"What happened? You look sick," says Ed as soon as he opens the door. Of course, he's shocked. Last week there was nothing in our way except a few months of practice until we got it right. My impulse for self-flagellation wins out once again: "If only we had started right after Ellena's birth. They say that's the most fertile time. We should've known!"

A line of fear cuts across his face, but he is enlightened, as always: "We couldn't have moved any faster, we were not ready. Everything will work out. Do you remember when we first held Ellena? How tiny she was? How easy it was to love her? We'll love this baby no matter where it comes from."

Ed is right. I mustn't for a moment forget how lucky I am. Ellena, Ellenka. Her name combines the names of her two grandmothers (Edita, Helen) for double protection. In return she carries sparks of them in her blue eyes, the color and texture of her sun-bathed hair. I must be there for her. I can't give in to the feeling of defeat that sneaks up on me when I least expect it.

My friend Lisa and I went to college together. Our relationship has gone through its ups and downs, but still my hand automatically dials her number in times of crisis. She and her husband, Gary, have been members of the infertility subculture for the past four years, having gone from specialist to specialist to finally adopting their son, Sam, three months ago.

"This is the worst part, when they tell you something's wrong. It gets easier after that," says Lisa.

On Lisa's recommendation I call Resolve, a national organization for people with infertility problems. They might have some new information. I'm hoping for a recent breakthrough in research, someone to discount the FSH alarmists.

I leave a message briefly describing my situation. The woman who returns my call, Shelly, is only thirty-seven. She has an FSH problem as well. Like me, she has one biological child, though she had trouble conceiving the first time. Our hormone levels create an instant bond.

"I know how you feel," Shelly says sympathetically. "Our doctor suggested IVF, but it's not an option for us. We can't go through it again. We're in the midst of the adoption process."

I ask her if she ever tried alternative treatments. "Like herbs? No, not really," she replies. "I guess you never know, do you?"

Across a haze of information, a list of doctors and IVF clinics, I hear a certain resignation, a weariness I fear might be contagious.

The complimentary Resolve newsletter arrives a few days later with an entire page filled with information on support groups. I am not ready to join one, but it's comforting to know they're there.

I'm surprised no one mentioned the effect of a high FSH on your environment. Seemingly overnight the entire Upper West Side of Manhattan swells into a giant, mocking belly. The playgrounds are invaded with mothers expecting their second or third child, or cradling newborns against their breasts. It seems almost daily there is joyous news of yet another one of Ellena's playmates becoming a big brother or sister. Each time the news feels like a humiliating betrayal to me.

Dr. C is at the top of Lisa's list of referrals. Getting an appointment is surprisingly easy. His office is on the street level of a lovely brownstone in Greenwich Village. Ed takes a late lunch hour to meet me for a two-thirty appointment. Finally, my first specialist.

A young woman with two screeching bundles is holding court in his waiting room. That's what I call a good omen. "They're Pergonal babies," she says to no one in particular. "We worked hard for them."

I imagine her gravely injecting her thigh while staring at a Gerber baby taped on her refrigerator door for inspiration. She walks out energized by her new motherhood and proceeds to load her car with the precious cargo.

Dr. C is an elegant, gray-haired man in his late fifties. On his desk sits a photograph of a beautiful woman holding twin girls. His daughters? Maybe his very first Pergonal twins? Nothing's sacred anymore.

Unaware of my silent indiscretion, Dr. C begins to take a brief medical history. He asks me about first menstruation, first pregnancy, Ellena's birth, and the regularity and duration of my ovulation cycles, all of which he finds satisfactory. Prior to this visit, Ed was asked to get a sperm count, and it's comforting to know we're not lacking in that department.

Dr. C looks at the lab report with my FSH. "Forty-two is high. Very high," he says, sounding concerned.

"Doesn't the number fluctuate? Couldn't it just drop on its own?"

"Of course it could, but the fact that it even once went up this high is discouraging. Ordinarily, I would recommend Pergonal. It's a fertility drug that helps you release more mature eggs. You could administer it to yourself by daily injections into your buttocks. Only, I don't think with these numbers it would do much good. I wouldn't want to give you any false hope. The prognosis is poor. In vitro fertilization is an option. Of course, you would have to get an egg donor.

"I still think we should run all the basic tests," he adds. "To make sure everything else is all right. And you'll need to have them if you elect to go the IVF route. One more thing: before we schedule the tests I'd like you to meet with our staff psychologist, Dr. R.

"Hope we can help," he says, shaking hands. Later I hear him repeat the phrase to another desperate, smiling couple.

Three weeks later, as we go through subsequent visits and discuss lab results and additional options over the phone, it becomes quite clear Dr. C has no idea who I am. Literally. I have a feeling he loses track of his patients in the maze of sonograms, biopsies, sperm counts, and referrals. Maybe he doesn't need to know me, as long as he knows his trade. As long as he updates my chart. Knows not to give me too much or too little of anything. Knows how to take a snip off my uterine wall and not hurt me more than he has to. So what if he thinks I'm the tall blonde instead of the short brunette?

The next step is our appointment with Dr. R, the psychologist.

She greets us in the waiting room. "Don't worry, I have everything under control," says her neatly tailored dark suit and her breezy smile. For a moment I'm reminded of those flawless faces one sees behind the make-up counters at Bloomingdale's. A dab of color, a stroke of a brush and you're as good as new. Instead of glamorous photographs, the walls of her office are covered with colorful diagrams of the female reproductive system; on her desk lies a plastic model of a uterus and ovaries, and a couple of syringes.

The first order of business is to reassure me I'm not going through menopause. "Women seem to think a high FSH means menopause is just around the corner," she says, "but of course it doesn't mean that at all." She is pleased to be the bearer of such good news, happy to clear up a foolish yet understandable error.

"Does that mean I can have another baby?" I ask.

"Unfortunately," she continues, "it does mean your ovaries are no longer producing fertilizable eggs. Now there are a number of procedures to compensate for this, various fertility drugs to boost the production of eggs and to improve their quality. In your case, however, the FSH is too high to merit the use of any of them. The only thing Dr. C recommends is IVF with an egg donor or, if you want guaranteed results, adoption, or surrogacy." She hands Ed a business card of a therapist specializing in adoption, and another of a lawyer who helps couples find surrogates.

Before we leave, Dr. R gives us a description of ovaries enlarged by doses of Pergonal. If I elect to do IVF, taking Pergonal is part of the process. "You would be closely monitored, but it's a powerful drug.

"And no," she says in response to Ed's last question, "there is no documented case of anyone conceiving with these numbers."

A quiet moaning starts up at the base of my abdomen, and I reach for Ed's hand. His fingers wrap around my palm. I need to get out of here, but it seems Dr. R is waiting for some sort of, preferably emotional, response from the two of us. Something to justify our presence in her office. Otherwise why would a consultation with her be part of the routine? A prerequisite for the rest of the tests? To provide us with a professional shoulder to cry on? In case, after fifteen years of analysis, I might not be aware of needing a therapist? Or was it to hear Dr. C's diagnosis produced by a different set of vocal cords? Or could it be that this conference was dictated largely by the rising cost of commercial real estate?

One thing is clear: the fertility roller coaster is in motion. And like it or not, I'm on it.

Présentation de l'éditeur

A memoir of hope for the thousands of women struggling with infertility, from one who beat the odds by simply tuning in to her body and tapping her well of sheer determination.

At a time when more and more women are trying to get pregnant at increasingly advanced ages, fertility specialists and homeopathic researchers boast endless treatment options. But when Julia Indichova made the rounds of medical doctors and nontraditional healers, she was still unable to conceive a child. It was only when she forsook their financially and emotionally draining advice, turning inward instead, that she finally met with reproductive success. Inconceivable recounts this journey from hopeless diagnoses to elated motherhood.

Anyone who has faced infertility will relate to Julia’s desperate measures: acupuncture, unidentifiable black-and-white pellets, herb soup, foul-smelling fruit, even making love on red sheets. Five reproductive endocrinologists told her that there was no documented case of anyone in her hormonal condition getting pregnant, forcing her to finally embark on her own intuitive regimen. After eight caffeine-free, nutrient-rich, yoga-laden months, complemented by visualization exercises, Julia received amazing news; incredibly, she was pregnant. Nine months later she gave birth to a healthy girl.

Unlike the many infertility books that take a clinical “how to” approach, Inconceivable simply professes the wisdom of giving expert status back to the patient. Julia’s self-discovery, and her ability to see her body as an ally once again, yield a beautiful message about the importance of honoring the body’s innate powers, and the power of life itself.

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Commentaires client les plus utiles sur Amazon.com (beta) (Peut contenir des commentaires issus du programme Early Reviewer Rewards)

Amazon.com: 4.3 étoiles sur 5 167 commentaires
4 internautes sur 4 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
4.0 étoiles sur 5 cute story 2 août 2016
Par SNY531 - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format: Broché Achat vérifié
I found this book when my RE told me my fsh was 10.5. End of the world.
The book us a cute story of her journey but she won't tell you exactly what helped her. She tried a whole bunch of alternative remedies to lower her FSH which eventually went down from 42 to 21, but the month she conceived it was 30 if I am not wrong. This I believe is to prove that you can get pregnant with a high fsh.
When she got pregnant finally, in the book I just started crying, not from happiness but from despair because that is not me.
I am glad it worked for her and I wish it was as "simple" as that and I wish everyone had a happy ending like she did.

She got pregnant in the 90s. If she was trying today she would have tried reiki and bodytlak as well.

I know of another woman, one mom in my child's class, who had a similar story. failed IUI then failed IVF. Doctors told her her FSH is too high and her husband's sperm is useless. she tried and tried and tried during her fertile window She gave up. She already had 2 kids, she wanted a 3rd one. She got pregnant randomly, without trying during her fertile time, then she got pregnant again a few years later (was a oopsie) totally unexpected at the age of 46.
There is hope.
2 internautes sur 2 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Her journey gives us hope and the choice to be empowered when we face infertility 6 juin 2017
Par Chimom - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format: Format Kindle Achat vérifié
This book was very helpful to me when I first tried to conceive my first child when I was 37, after trying for 4 years. This book is not a recipe or a miracle pill. What it did for me, was to open the possibility that there was hope beyond statistics and numbers. It helped me have the mindset that I could be empowered in my journey to become a mother, despite the challenges. I ended up becoming pregnant right as I was about to start IVF. Maybe it is a coincidence. Fertility involves many factors. I do believe that feeling empowered in my journey - a tough journey full of challenges - has been key for me. As I now face secondary infertility at 44, trying to have another child, re-reading the book (as well as Julia Indichova's other book The Fertile Female) has been a good reminder as I continue the journey to be empowered and find my own way. I would recommend checking out for yourself Julia's website Fertile Heart as it provided you with a community and additional resources. I wished that I had done it sooner. I don't have a guarantee for outcome. Yet, I know I feel more empowered, more hopeful, less alone.
1 internautes sur 1 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Turning point 20 juin 2017
Par PMM - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format: Format Kindle Achat vérifié
This book was a turning point in my life. My pilgrimage towards my future child truly began after I read the Inconceivable for the first time. But I wanted to know more and I followed up with purchasing and reading the Fertile Female soon after. I finally found the Fertile Heart practice and have stuck with it for more than a year and a half. This time interval included me visiting Fertile Heart Studio in the beautiful Woodstock, NY, not one but two times. It will take me a while to list all the blessing that this book and this journey has brought me. But to the crux is the gift of shifting my thinking from a victim's point of view to someone who has a choice at every step of the way, and a choice of the way at every level. The deeper I go, the more I heal - sometime knowingly and often unknowingly.

When I read Inconceivable, little did I know that it would lead me to this practice, and that this practice would help me in my work life too. But I am grateful that I found this book - somehow while I was desperate looking for someone or something to cure me whatever did or didn't ail me at the time. Thank you Julia for sharing this gem with the world. I don't want to be in the world where there isn't at least one person like you who is courageous and so compassionate.
2 internautes sur 2 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 All women should read 15 mars 2017
Par Kate A - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format: Broché Achat vérifié
Great book, any woman interested in conceiving or trying to should read this book!!! I wish Doctors would read it. They seem to think that Clomid or IVF is the only option - they could not be MORE wrong!! I bought a copy for my friend after I read this so she could enjoy it as well. Spread the word - there are so many more options than what most Doctors will tell you. This book is unique in the health and fertility space in that it reads like a novel. Well written.
7 internautes sur 7 ont trouvé ce commentaire utile 
5.0 étoiles sur 5 Great Book - Gave us Hope 18 février 2012
Par Kat - Publié sur Amazon.com
Format: Format Kindle Achat vérifié
I am a 34 year old woman who has been diagnosed with very low MIS/AMH and normal FSH. We had been trying to conceive for over a year when I had gone to see a FS. Although I am in the medical field myself I refused to believe that my chances of conceiving were low. I scoured the internet and medical journals for information which was not very positive. I came across Julia Indochiva's website (Fertileheart.com) and book. Although Inconceivable is about secondary infertility I still felt her struggles resonated with the core of how I was feeling: Some dispair, sadness, frustration about feeling out of control, and responsible for not giving my husband what he had hoped for. Both my husband and I read Inconceivable and felt like the book helped us take the necessary steps in taking control over our situation. Even though there was no guarantee that we would be successful, for the first time in this process we felt like we were doing everything we could in our power before reverting to western medicine to achive our dream of having a child. I am happy to say that we are now 26 weeks pregnant! This book may have not been an exact duplicate to our situation but it gave us the tools that we needed to renew hope. I highly recommend this book!
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