Quiet Hope.April 27, 2012 at 7:42 am | Posted in IVF #6: Quiet Hope | 8 Comments
Charlie and I met with New RE a couple of days ago.
I’ve been sitting with the emotions I felt then and now for a couple of days, because they feel markedly different somehow. And I’m trying to understand where and how I’ve gotten to this place.
Anyway. The meeting was much quicker this time. All our chromosomal tests came back normal. SA was what we expected: low overall count, awful morphology, so/so motility. My FSH, AMH, thyroid, etc are well within normal. On paper, we look like a pretty darn good candidate for IVF with ICSI.
And as such, her recommendation for a cycle stands: change in protocol, not because I’m not responding well but just because the Lupron protocol doesn’t really seem to have worked. Day three transfer of assisted hatched embryos. They do things a little differently there; an intramuscular HcG shot (I’ve always ever done sub-q) and either PIO or crinone for progesterone, but she left it up to me. And antibiotics for the AH, which my old clinic doesn’t do anymore but what I had with the successful cycle which netted us Lucky.
I’ve lucked out and never had to do PIO, so honestly I have no intention of starting now. 🙂
She also didn’t seem to be as nervous about the chance of multiples with my uterus as Dr. HIT was, which is interesting to see. She mentioned a transfer of 2-3 embryos, where we had the discussion that more than 2 is not an option for us. She was perfectly fine with that, she told us. We make good quality embryos so no big deal.
Timing-wise, they put in for insurance approval on Tuesday. I did end up purchasing Massachusetts insurance for me, so hopefully there won’t be any issues with authorization. But we’ll see. AF is due next week and May is super busy, so I think we’re going to wait until June to start the whole cycle thing.
And it’s really interesting. As I drove home, I was sort of shocked by how Zen I felt about the whole thing.
My first three cycles before I got pregnant were all about desperation. I wanted to be a mom, and I really honestly didn’t care what they had to do to me in order for that to happen.
The cycles after Lucky was born, well, they were about anger and depression. I was back into trying, and failing, again.
Now, though? I have very little confidence in the OUTCOME of this cycle. New RE can’t tell me why we’re not getting pregnant. She doesn’t hold the key to why our cycles haven’t worked before now. She’s changing things up because, well, the other stuff hasn’t worked. But it’s a gamble, still. Because honestly, no one knows why we haven’t gotten pregnant before now.
But I DO feel good about the approach. The clinic. My new doctor, who is measured, and has years of medical research to back up her opinions. She hasn’t ONCE mentioned pregnancy, whereas my old doctor was all like “let’s make Lucky a brother!”
Which, I know he meant well, to show us he was confident, but it never sat well with me.
Really, though. With this cycle? I feel like, now, we are doing everything possible in the hopes of attaining the result we want.
I have hope that it will work, of course, but it’s a quiet hope. Muted by acceptance of the fact that I have no control over the outcome. Not even a little bit.
And, you know, that’s okay.
More than that, though?
I think I really have come to acceptance that this might be our family forever – the three of us. And I have a choice in that acceptance. Focus on the heartbreak and grief of missing our second child for the rest of our life? Or move on, and really embrace the notion of the family that we have today?
I have spent SO much time and energy wishing for things to be different for SO much of my life. That pattern keeps me from happiness.
So for this cycle, I choose to move forward with this quiet hope. I have confidence that we are doing everything we can for the outcome we want.
And I am still making plans if it fails, too. Charlie and I are discussing getting a dog, an older one from a lab or golden rescue, this fall. I want to qualify for the Boston Marathon in the next couple of years, so I have a couple of half marathons this fall where, if I work hard, I fully believe I can run in 1:45.
The feelings of hope – and fear- are still here. But they’re not overwhelming anymore.
I have no control over the outcome. What will be will be.
And somehow, that’s OKAY.