2/7/2017 0 Comments CatatoniaYou know the scene from Ferris Bueller's Day Off where Cameron essentially becomes catatonic because he realizes his dad is going to find out they drove his car? That's been me the last few days. Especially Sunday.
At our doctor's appointment we learned that I'm not responding to the IVF meds. And we saw the third doctor in the clinic that we've never met before. Surpinsgly she gave an entirely different opinion than the other two opinions we've heard from the other two doctors. Not only did she suggest canceling this cycle but to not even bothering trying a second time. She basically said if we stopped now we could get most of our money back. I really don't remember things in chronological order after that. At some point I started crying and asking questions. At some point she recommended trying the shots for a few more days...until Wednesday (tomorrow.) I've been known to cause a few scenes in my day and I'm quite sure I was a spectacle. I was yelling at Matt. I was angry. I was sad. The level of angry and sad I was on doesn't even have a name. I still had to have blood work done and when I collected myself enough to get that done another patient was already in that room. The nurse saw me and quickly shuffled me back into the room we came from. She hugged me. She tried to console me. She took my blood. When the needle went in my arm I heaved and sobbed. When she got the blood she hugged me for so long and so hard. My mind was racing the whole way home and all day. Matt and I both cried. We sat in the car in the driveway. I don't even remember what we talked about. We went inside. Maxwell (our cat) was on the back of the couch. He did not protest when I scooped him up and carried him to the bed. Our other cat River was already in the bed. All four of us just cuddled. That is a miracle. When your cats get along that's how you know it's bad. My emotions raged up and down all day. I went back and forth between wanting to burn our house down and googling donor eggs. I thought about running away. But where would I go? The ladies in my support group were s encouraging. I got information from two clinics to do a consult. We are paying $180 to a clinic in Texas for a second opinion. Luckily they are calling tomorrow night. We are doing a free consult with a clinic in New York but can't get an appointment until March 8th. Monday was long. Too long. Luckily I reconnected with an old friend and had a nice phone conversation. When I was recalling the story of Sunday it felt like it had literally been weeks. I was stunned at the realization it had only been a day. My emotions had been waxing and waning. At times, I wanted to throw a chair threw our big windows in the dining room. I wanted to break some shit. But I realized I'd have to clean it up and windows aren't cheap. Do you know what it's like injecting yourself with hundreds of dollars of medication on less than an ounce hope that you'll be one of those miraculous stories? I'm pretty sure I have a higher chance of being struck by lightening than this ivf cycle turning around. It's surreal to watch a needle penetrate your skin. When the needle comes out my skin sticks to it a little. Sometimes there's a little drop of blood or even a little drop of medicine that comes back out. It's more bizarre to experience this than can be described. Especially when you think about the dollars. The three shots at night cost over $300. When drug addicts shoot up do they think about the cost of each high? Today I felt somewhat more human. After work a friend took me to get my nails done. That was the kindest thing it feels anyone could have done. Infertility definitely makes you feel extremely unfeminine. Being pampered and having pretty purple nails really did perk me up. It's so good to know how many people I'm able to really lean into when I don't know if I can hold myself up. Tomorrow still feels so far away. It feels like it's the last day of our current life. I have no idea what to expect. I have no idea how I'll react. There's no way to prepare yourself for this not to work. I had tried to prepare myself for this not to work the first time. But I thought we'd get a second chance. When all this fertility stuff started I thought if we tried hard enough, waiting long enough, and spent enough money this would work. But it turns out that is not the case. Sometimes nothing works. Your organs are broken long before they're supposed to be. And there's nothing you can do about it. I wish there was some symptoms of diminished ovarian reserve. But there aren't...not other than not getting pregnant anyway. I would give anything to go back in time. Before infertility the only regret I had in life was not seeing Hair in London. Now, I'm filled with regrets. I feel like everyday I find new regrets. If I could go back in time I would do so many things differently. I know I shouldn't dwell on that, but I can't stop. I feel like tomorrow is going to be the beginning of a new chapter. Not necessarily a good chapter. At least it doesn't feel like it's going to be good. "How puzzling all these changes are! I'm never sure what I'm going to be, from one minute to another." -- Lewis Carroll
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Heather Joyce
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