Update: On Wednesday I did get a message from a nurse that my E2 is 67 and FSH is 3 (from Estrogen priming? Wtf?) and we are going ahead with the cycle. I needed to have a pity party on Wednesday, though. I am hoping my stupid cyst is hiding some follicles. I also remembered something the doctor doing my scan said. He asked me if I had any surgeries on my uterus and asked me if I’d had an ultrasound to make sure the fibroids are not impacting my uterus. I have not had surgeries and I’ve had several sonohysterograms to make sure my uterus is okay. That worries me though. My uterus is the one thing I’ve got working; I don’t want to have any doubts about it now.
Yesterday I got another message that my HIV test is expired so I had to go to the lab for a blood draw, which was fine because I am getting my AMH retested anyway (at my request.) The lab is at the university health center, which is where my OB/GYN is, and all other non-specialist medical care for everyone on the university health plan.
In the lab, there was a couple next to me whispering excitedly. I kept hearing “cesarean?” I decided my ears were playing mean tricks on me. Then I was called to the desk to clarify what tests I was in for. After having to slightly shout, “HIV!” in front of everyone, I sat back down and noticed the folder the couple was looking at, giggling, before the wife literally skipped into the room for her blood draw.
The folder is the OB info folder you get when you’re pregnant. I have one at home. I told my doctor not to give it to me last year because I already knew I’d miscarry, and she said, “Take it just in case,” and now it resides in a drawer in my dining room hutch. The husband took a picture of the folder and texted it to people. I know that because when his wife skipped back out into the waiting area, she said, “Did you send the pictures?”
At this point I noticed another woman holding the SAME FOLDER but at least she was keeping to herself. I had visions of myself tearing the couples’ folder into shreds and telling them, “I got this folder, too, and then my fetus died. You’re not special.”
I cried in the car on the way back to work. Angry tears and then sad tears.
I am pretty good at compartmentalizing my feelings. This blog is a place where I let out the worst of it. Day to day, though, I tend to focus on the short-term goals. I have a cyst, boo. I am starting stims tomorrow, yay. I also tend to have multiple back up plans and focus on the positives. This cycle may get cancelled, but that’s okay, I have insurance to do more. I might use up all my insurance allotment before I get a baby, but that’s okay, we’ll use our savings on another cycle and then a donor cycle. We might not be able to have a baby at all, but that’s okay, we can adopt from India, where my husband is a citizen.
So, I really do tend to not dwell on the bigger, sadder picture. And that’s not a pat on my own back, by the way, that’s just an autopilot brain coping mechanism that has gradually developed over the years because of many things not related to my fertility.
That’s why the waiting room incident yesterday was a blow. I don’t like to remember how unfair and painful this is.
Part of what makes this difficult is that we all feel like we deserve what we want based on our virtues and having suffered enough. When someone good happens to me, I wait for the other shoe to drop. When something goes well, I look for a catch. When I feel happy (which has not been in a long time) I think about how nothing lasts forever.
When I see great things happening to other people, I wonder how they deserve the blessings that I don’t get. When I think about how I need to approach IVF, I worry that our current plan of 3 day fresh transfers is too much “instant gratification” and that I need to suffer through two years of banking PGS normal embryos. But what if that also didn’t work and we need to use donor eggs? Then I think if I “give up” and switch to donor eggs (as though this is so much easier) then I am taking a short cut before exhausting my body, mind, and finances completely, and that this exhaustion could be what “earns” me a baby.
And all of this is why I look at women who post, “We got 23 eggs!” and I think, that’s not fair. Of course it’s not fair. It’s not fair that they need to do IVF in the first place, none of this is fair. It’s not fair that my ovaries are almost empty before age 35. It’s all just random and sometimes it works out and sometimes it doesn’t.