Special Guest Writer: Lisa Matkowsky is an all-around late bloomer, professionally and personally, and proud of it. A law school dropout, Lisa finally found her calling as a writer/editor and psychotherapist. She lives in Riverdale, New York with her hard-won Mr. Right and her two hard-won sons, ages two and four, and she treasures her 12 wonderful nieces and nephews.


As a professional, cosmopolitan woman immersed in New York's vibrant Upper West Side dating scene,  I had no worries. At 25 I assumed that romance, marriage, and children (5, I decided) were a given. I planned to have a lot of fun for 2-3 years, then get married and start a family. And so I began my quest.

Two years passed, then three. A lot of drama ensued, but no Mr. Right. Still, I really didn't worry. The anxiety began when my little (9 years younger) sister got engaged at the age of 22. I was 31. Soon after, I became a proud PANK. I adored my little nephew, but I worried. When would it be my turn?

I worried as my sister made me a devoted aunt several more times. I worried as my 12-years-younger brother got married (imagine the pointed questions and remarks I got at that wedding). My turn for love finally came when I was 35. After a rough, 4-year, dead-end relationship, Mr. Right sauntered into a party - in a tough-guy leather jacket with a flask in his pocket.

When we got married, I was 36, and unsure about my fertility prospects. Popular culture today conveys a rosy picture: glamorous celebrities have children whenever they choose. I gave my new hubby a few months of newlywed bliss, and then I pounced.

I dragged him to a fertility specialist. I will never forget the first of several brutally insensitive phone calls I received on my  fertility journey as a late bloomer: Dr. VB called, matter-of-factly announcing, "My tests indicate you'll never have children. At least without in vitro fertilization."

As a PANK, I was a mother with no children. My yearning  for biological kids was a burning desire. We went to a well-known fertility center where we endured weeks of tests.  The verdict: my eggs were "older." We decided to start with a round of IUI (Intrauterine Insemination). It didn't work. The next month, we tried again. It didn't work. The next month, we tried yet again. It. Didn't. Work.

My nerves were frayed. I was over-hormoned, dejected, and a little hopeless.  I thought Jennifer Anniston could have kids whenever she decided she was ready. Women were postponing childbearing for all kinds of reasons. Didn't that imply that they would ultimately CONCEIVE?

We tried the more advanced and complex IVF the next month. This involved much higher doses of injectable hormones and a surgical removal of eggs. First they tell you how many eggs you've produced (say 15). Then they tell you a few days later how many of the 15 they were able to inseminate. This number is fewer (say 9). A few days after that, you get a call about how many fertilized (say 6). Then they tell you how well the embryos developed (say 3 are viable to transfer back to your uterus). Then you wait to see if any "take."

We waited. I'll never forget the snowy Friday afternoon when they called with the results.  The voice on the other end said "Congratulations!!! You're pregnant!!!" I felt the room swim. Then she added the unexplained "Your HCG is 81. Come in Monday for your next blood test." I walked on air the rest of the weekend.

As a matter of course, I went in for the follow up blood test on Monday, not knowing what it was fo. Later that day I received the following phone call: "Your HCG is 102. So we have to decide whether to end it or wait for the miscarriage to happen on its own."

It seems that the "HCG" blood levels should double about every two days if a pregnancy is viable.The HCG kept going up, but never doubled. I miscarried at 8 weeks. My husband comforted me that we would try again. We waited an interminable 2 months for my body to recover. Then we started the IVF process again.

Again, the congratulatory phone call. I had steeled myself, only letting a tiny bit of hope seep in. But it didn't protect me. Again, the numbers didn't double but kept rising. Afraid I might have an ectopic pregnancy, putting my life in danger, they told me they'd have to give me an injection to end the pregnancy.

Now what? Three failed rounds of IUI. Two failed rounds of IVF. I was 37.

We decided to try a third emotionally and physically grueling round of IVF. We waited for my next period to get started again. It never came.

I took a pregnancy test one day. Taking home pregnancy tests is a frequent occurrence when trying to get pregnant, so it was really just a game. Except it said POSITIVE.

My HCG was 500. Two days later it was 1000. Then there was a tiny, fluttering heartbeat. We had what they called a "spontaneous pregnancy." Which means we got pregnant all by ourselves.

We gave birth to our much-wanted, most wondrous little boy in February 2008. I was 38. It was a "high-risk" pregnancy because of my age. Nevertheless, he was perfect, beautiful, and a mind-blowing amount work. The experience was all I dreamed of.

When our baby was 6 months old, we went to a fancier clinic for IVF round number 3. It failed profoundly: my "older" eggs were so "fragmented' that not a single egg even fertilized. The doctor pronounced my childbearing years over. I was deeply grateful for my son but I was devastated that I could not give him a sibling. I thought, I just got started and now it's over? I cursed myself for "playing around" for so many years and for not being "focused" on getting married.

Determined, we went to a non-traditional fertility clinic. We did IVF number 4 with the highest levels of injectable medications possible.  It failed, again producing not a single transferable embryo. Sadly, our new doctor concluded, IVF would never work for us. But he was as committed as we were, and said he was game to continue the more basic, less costly (but also less effective) IUI every month in hopes of catching one of the few good eggs this former PANK still had left.

I conceived on the first try. We gave birth to our second miracle in December of 2009, 22 months after our first. I was 40.

So now, at 42, we do IUI every month with the prayer we might be blessed one more time. I had one more cutting-edge IVF (round 5) after our second son, but it failed. We have had many ups and downs, but we keep our eyes on the prize. The sons we are blessed to have help us keep the little gleam in our eyes for future blessings.

However, I would not have had to go through all this trouble if it had been clear to me early on that conceiving would not always be easy. If I had known when I was 25 and 30 what I would go through to have my sons later in life, I would have frozen my eggs.  If you know you want children someday, and aren't willing to settle for anyone less than Mr. Right just so you can have kids, that is definitely something I would recommend doing.


Published: November 16, 2011