I spoke with Dr. Beautiful today. It went as expected. She doesn't know why, she would like to see me try again. She mentioned many times how well I respond to the meds. She kept saying "you have no idea how well you respond, and I don't mean for 40 year olds, you get great response for women in their thirties"
She went on to say, "I'd like to see you try it again. There are no guarantees. We don't know why it didn't work, but you sure do respond well enough to give it another go."
To my surprise, she never mentioned donor eggs.
She told me that I was an excellent patient, she wished all of her patients were like me and she also said: "you would be an amazing mother and it would be so wonderful if we could get it to work for you".
I asked her if she would change my protocol. Her answer was "no".
I wanted to ask about her not checking my E2 level but thought that would be something to request during IVF#3.
She said that I did not need to waste a month on BCP's for "ovary rest" and I could begin injectables after I start my period in a week.
She mentioned that they know that from all of the studies and research, age is a factor.
I asked about getting brownie points for a 3.4 FSH and because I get so many eggs, or because all of my tests were above normal....... do I stand a better chance?
She was silent. Awkwardly silent.
As much as doctors make a big deal about all of these tests and how you have to pass, their tests are only for the Grade of F - you never get an A.
YOU WILL NEVER MAKE AN A.
In 4 years, I have subjected myself to so many tests that it actually is making me sob right now just thinking about it. I am sobbing silently because my husband is in his office and will hear me if I really let it go like I want to.
As long as I am silently weeping, he won't poke his head in here while I type this.
Every single test that I have subjected myself to has resulted in flying colors and accolade on the lab slip but has done little to impress my doctors.
I'll tell you a secret. There is a huge statue of the Virgin Mother off of the 101 Freeway on my way to Stanford and every single fucking time I had an appointment, I took her roses from my garden. I wrapped the bottoms with wet paper towels and I would lay them at her feet and say a prayer. I felt a bit unworthy because I am not Catholic and I thought she would know that I was never raised to pray to her, but I needed her help. I would place the wet paper toweled roses in a baggie for the commute. One time, I noticed a drop of blood inside the baggie and I took that as a sign. Back then, I took it as a good sign but now I see it as a warning. A metaphor of wasted blood, sweat and tears that might as well have been leaked into a baggie and thrown away.
I had a dear family member die suddenly last year. Her name was Mary and I cannot talk about everything yet, it is too much. I flew back to South Carolina for her funeral but she miraculously stayed alive when everything in her body had shut down. I sat with her family and mine at the hospital for two weeks as she fought death. I always thought people succumbed when it was time, that they found peace, but she made it clear that "it sucked" and she was not ready to go. She told me many times "don't give up on your babies, keep trying,....DON'T give up".
The last thing that I talked to Mary about was our upcoming IVF and I promised her that if I ever had a daughter I would name her "Mary Elise" or "Mary Anna Elise" and Mary said that she thought they were both "pretty".
Oh Lord. This is hard.
I just told M. about my conversation with Dr. Beautiful.
He said, "I can't see us doing IVF again. Not now. Not anytime soon."
I said, "It is now or never, I don't have time on my side anymore."
He said, "I don't see it happening."
I don't think he has noticed how much I am blowing my nose or how silent I am trying to be. I think it may be time to go to bed.
