So, we have a presently unknown number of little embryos growing in a lab right now. I would love more than anything in the world to just snatch them up and magic them into my uterus, but for various reasons no one else seems to be on board with that idea. As a result, I found myself (once again) in the stirrups this morning spending some quality time with the dildocam.
There is definitely something in my uterus. Something small—soooo small—but as my doctor put it, it’s sitting in the exact spot where she wants to place our embryos as if it’s a target.
The plan is to move forward with a hysteroscopy once I start my next cycle and scrape that little fucker out. Pardon my language, but I am not in a place where I really give a damn if I sound like a sailor at the moment.
After Spot is removed (I’ve decided to call him Spot), it’s back to my FAVORITE thing ever…
MORE FUCKING BIRTH CONTROL PILLS.
Then, we’ll start an FET cycle.
The kicker… and this is a really good one… is that ALL OF THIS CAN BE OURS FOR THE BARGAIN PRICE OF ONLY SIX THOUSAND DOLLARS!
I was holding it all together remarkably well up until that point, but it turns out that being handed paperwork informing you that you cannot have YOUR embryos—that are sitting RIGHT OVER THERE (somewhere)—put into YOUR uterus until/unless you come up with six thousand more dollars on top of the $25,000 you have already spent—well, it turns out that that’s just my breaking point.
And break, I did. Right in the middle of the courtyard outside the doctor’s office as people sat on the patio of the café sipping their iced tea and wondering whether they should call the police.
We are going to figure it out. We always figure it out somehow. It honestly could have been worse, except that the amazingly wonderful woman in the financial office spent thirty minutes making phone calls to the powers that be to get the surgery discounted from $4,000 to $2,500. She was so sweet—repeatedly asking me if I’m okay and just being so genuine and nice.
That’s the trouble right now. I want so much to BLAME someone for this setback. I want to point a finger and say THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT and then walk out and slam a door so hard that it bounces back open and I get to slam it again. There’s just no one to blame.
My doctor was amazing today. If you’re in need of an RE in the LA area, I will gladly share her information because she is wonderful. I am so sensitive when it comes to doctors, and she is the perfect mix of analytical and compassionate. She hugged me as she left the room today. I’ve never been hugged by a doctor before, and it absolutely shocked me how welcome that hug was. It made me feel like she’s in this just as much as we are. She also made it perfectly clear that it’s killing her not to be able to do a fresh transfer because in her words, I have been the model patient. I didn’t hyperstimulate, my lining is absolutely perfect, and other than Spot, everything is JUST RIGHT. She reiterated that Spot is so tiny that most doctors would probably go right ahead and take a chance on the transfer, but she just has a gut feeling that we need to deal with this. I trust her gut.
Lest you think that I am not grateful for what we DO have right now, I assure you that we know how blessed we are. Up until this ($6,000) speed bump, everything has worked. My ovaries worked hard but not too hard. The egg retrieval was successful, and two days later, I feel pretty damn good. We have 9 fertilized eggs in a lab mustering all their strength to multiply their little cells. We are both healthy, and our marriage is stronger than it has ever been.
This is not the end of the world. The door is not locked, it’s just closed for a few months.
And the best part? WINE. I am going home tonight, putting all of the hormones and needles back into the hormone and needle cupboard, and pouring myself a GIANT glass of guilt-free wine.
Happy weekend, everyone. I will drink a glass of wine in your honor. Red or white? Let me know.