Chugging Along

There are days where it seems no big deal, that this is just the path we've got to take, that it will all work out eventually.

There are other days when the chances that it won't work are overwhelming, days when the dark cloud just sits on my shoulders and the chance that we'll pay all this money and suffer all this indignity and still end up without a child just hurts.  A lot.

Today at the grocery store, a woman wearing a newborn baby in a wrap seemed to be following me everywhere.  I know logically she was just doing her own grocery shopping, and the logical version of me wants to give her kudos for venturing out on her own with a newborn to get her errands done, but it felt (to my infertility brain) like every time I picked up a bell pepper or a can of tomato sauce and turned to put it in my cart, she was waiting behind me to grab the same item right after me.  And I couldn't even look at her, I couldn't make eye contact.  I wanted to just run far away, find a corner and curl up in a ball and cry.

Then we ran into an acquaintance who has an adorable baby belly, which was another kick to my empty womb.

When my husband and I were discussing our treatment plan, and how we'll do two cycles of Femara and Follisim with an IUI before we take at least a two month break to recuperate financially, physically, and emotionally before making future decisions, the idea that we've got more than a 50% chance of having to take that break to reassess our plans with a still empty womb is heartbreaking.

Sure, on my more positive days, thinking that we've got probably at least a 40% chance of getting pregnant in the next two months is incredibly exciting, thrilling, uplifting.

On other days, the idea that we've got such a huge chance of having to decide whether to continue with IUIs or save up and make plans for IVF.

And knowing we'd still have at best a 60% chance of success with our first IVF, if we get to that, is similarly uplifting and heartbreaking.  Because each IVF cycle would involve me living away from home for around a month, though I'm not sure exactly where we would do an IVF cycle yet - the cheapest programs for us are likely either DC or upstate NY, and both are places where we have family that I could stay with. And it would be a huge financial burden.

I also had to admit to my husband that I don't feel like I am emotionally ready to move on to IVF if these two cycles fail.  I want a baby so badly, but I am not quite ready to take on the financial and emotional burden of that process.

So many people seem to think the only burden to IVF is the money.  That it's an easy answer.  I don't quite know why I also feel the need to explain why I don't want to inflate my ovaries like balloons with dozens of shots to my belly, be covered in bruises and bloat from the medicated shots, have my eggs surgically removed by a needle through my vaginal wall while I'm under anesthesia, have my eggs fertilized in a petri dish, and then grown in a lab as I bite my nails to hear how many have matured and fertilized, and have an embryo implanted back into my uterus.  And pay between $5-10k for the privilege of all that and then waiting anxiously for a 40% chance of still failing to have a baby.  And then having to decide if we do it again, or if we move on.

My aunt needed 3 fresh IVF cycles for her first baby.  While I'm sure it was incredibly emotionally taxing, they had insurance coverage so they did not need to worry about the financial side.  I can't imagine the financial burden that would be part of our decision whether to move on to even a 2nd IVF cycle.

It's the chance of failure that's so overwhelming.  It's the financial cost, the emotional toll of having to live away from my husband and puppy and our home during the cycle.  The idea that we have probably still a 20% chance after all this of having spent thousands of dollars and still be empty handed.  And then what?

Sure, it would be nice to believe we'll end up in the positive percentile.  It's likely, for sure (oh please, oh please, oh please).  But it was likely that we would have gotten pregnant already, and we're already in the 5-10% of people our age who have not conceived by this point.  What's to say I won't end up in the 20% of people in my diagnosis (or rather, lack of diagnosis) and age group who never conceive?

I try to live in the moment, trying to just think of this as the process that we need to take, just one step at a time.  Not to delve into the "what ifs" and "what thens" of what may come next, or after that.  Because even day by day can be overwhelming.

Oh, and back to the moment, I don't have any cysts. So it's full speed ahead for this cycle, which is exciting and awesome and scary!  I took my 3rd pill of Letrozole this morning - there are two more pills and then I do two days of Follistim before I go in for an ultrasound.  They're beefing up the Follistim this time to 50 iu (which is most people's starting dose, but it seems like a lot after last cycle's 33.3 iu per day).  Here's hoping for perfect follicles and a nice thick lining!

We decided that if these two cycles fail, we'll take at least two cycles to regroup.  We'll reassess. Right now, I think we'll probably do two more cycles of IUI after that before moving on to IVF and starting the process to become foster parents at the same time.  But honestly, after rushing so hard for so long to just get to my baby that I know is somehow at the end of this journey, I don't want to push too hard before I'm ready for each step.  It's a grieving process, and I have to be kind to myself through this process and understand that it isn't a race.  Taking some time to be fully ready for the next step is smart, I believe.  We don't need to rush, and stopping to breathe for a bit before we finally get pregnant (or adopt) is brave, not weak.

Two months ago, the idea of having to do this with medication and IUI was painful.  I was so sad that it hadn't happened, and I didn't want to have to go through all this to get a baby.  Now, it seems like no big deal to take the pills and the shots and do the IUI.  It's almost like how it's supposed to happen, just what we have to do, no big deal.  And the cost of it seems manageable at the moment, affordable even.

IVF is still overwhelming in so many ways.  I'm just not ready to take that step.

So for now, two IUIs, two months of full on break (and I plan to drink like a fish if it comes to that), and we'll use that time to figure out what's next.  No assumptions, no baggage - just figure out how to move forward with fresh eyes.

Let's hope it doesn't come to that.  Today is a pessimistic day, I hope tomorrow is more optimistic.