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| A pair of hopeful Christmas ornaments, symbolizing my wish for 2017. |
We were supposed to start our first IVF cycle this week. The skin below my belly button should be tender from needle pricks, and I should be even more hormonal and emotional than usual.
We should be on our way to finally, hopefully, maybe making our dream come true.
BUT.
Lest we forget the hallmark of infertility: Waiting. Always more waiting.
For the past two months, since the beginning of November, I have worked feverishly to get everything checked off our pre-IVF to-do list, with the ultimate goal of starting our first round in January. My nurse case manager said that wasn't an unreasonable goal, if I was motivated. And I was.
Aside from the usual blood draws and physical evaluations, the list included watching nearly 2 hours of online education modules to learn about mixing and administering my medication (definitely some cringe-worthy moments there!), attending an in-person injection workshop, reading and signing a stack of consent forms, obtaining price quotes and applying to available discount programs for my medications, and applying for a loan to help fund the whole crazy-expensive process called IVF.
Yet, as we inched closer to our anticipated start date of Jan. 14, it felt like we were racing against a clock that was precariously dangling above my ever-faster graying head. (Those suckers just keep taking up residency in new roots day after day.) I had outstanding questions for my nurses and doctors and responses were not coming in their usual lightning-speed fashion. (Isn't that always the way when you're in a serious time crunch?) And suddenly we were faced with the reality of paying a loan "security deposit," of sorts, on top of loan documentation fees, on top of thousands in medications — all at the same time.
I could feel it but didn't want to admit it; the timing just wasn't working out. We were going to have to postpone. It was a week into January and we were finally taking down our Christmas tree when I spontaneously burst into tears and cried out to Greg: "Is this really going to happen? Are we going to do IVF or not? I just need to know."
I was worried for my fragile emotional state. Preparing to launch into something so huge, so costly, slightly painful, and potentially unsuccessful in the end is enough of a burden without being unsure if you really are going to take the leap... and when. I needed us to be steadfast. Committed. Unwavering in our decision and undeterred. Not to mention I had this nagging feeing of "what will people think?" since I had confided in a few work friends as well as told my managers about our plans.
The straw that broke the camel's back was a phone call from our RE. A bit perplexed by a discrepancy in two test results, she wants us to try something for a few weeks that could, if successful, save us from spending an additional $1,800. This news shook me out of my denial and forced me to concede. We'd have to wait until February.
There are still a few loose ends to tie up and it's not going to be easy, but for the moment I am trying to find the positives in being afforded this extra time (like that optimistic spin?) and I'm looking forward to a productive month of LOVE.
Yet, as we inched closer to our anticipated start date of Jan. 14, it felt like we were racing against a clock that was precariously dangling above my ever-faster graying head. (Those suckers just keep taking up residency in new roots day after day.) I had outstanding questions for my nurses and doctors and responses were not coming in their usual lightning-speed fashion. (Isn't that always the way when you're in a serious time crunch?) And suddenly we were faced with the reality of paying a loan "security deposit," of sorts, on top of loan documentation fees, on top of thousands in medications — all at the same time.
I could feel it but didn't want to admit it; the timing just wasn't working out. We were going to have to postpone. It was a week into January and we were finally taking down our Christmas tree when I spontaneously burst into tears and cried out to Greg: "Is this really going to happen? Are we going to do IVF or not? I just need to know."
I was worried for my fragile emotional state. Preparing to launch into something so huge, so costly, slightly painful, and potentially unsuccessful in the end is enough of a burden without being unsure if you really are going to take the leap... and when. I needed us to be steadfast. Committed. Unwavering in our decision and undeterred. Not to mention I had this nagging feeing of "what will people think?" since I had confided in a few work friends as well as told my managers about our plans.
The straw that broke the camel's back was a phone call from our RE. A bit perplexed by a discrepancy in two test results, she wants us to try something for a few weeks that could, if successful, save us from spending an additional $1,800. This news shook me out of my denial and forced me to concede. We'd have to wait until February.
There are still a few loose ends to tie up and it's not going to be easy, but for the moment I am trying to find the positives in being afforded this extra time (like that optimistic spin?) and I'm looking forward to a productive month of LOVE.
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