It's over. On July 10 we went and signed the papers to destroy the three embryos at Big Shiny Fertility Factory, the last of the Nine.
It was just too much. In the end, my desire for another child was overwhelmed by the sense that the time for that had passed. I'm almost 42. Her Indoors is 50. Small Boy is 6. In the end, I'm unwilling to gamble the time, the money, the sorrow, for an unlikely payoff. I put ten embryos in my uterus. Presumably, if there were a tiny soul that were meant to be part of our family, it would have taken one of the ten fucking chances it had to hop aboard and stay for the ride.
But nope. It's over. It no longer matters how much scar tissue my uterus has. My super-light periods are now nothing but a convenience. Small Boy will never have a full sibling; I feel intensely lucky that we have met some wonderful donor siblings via the Donor Sibling Registry. I will never pee on a stick again, never hold on the end of a phone with blood roaring in my ears waiting to find out a beta number. I will never, ever have another goddamn miscarriage. Sometimes thinking that makes me want to weep with gratitude.
During the last one I held the infinitesimal thing in my hand and thought "welp, this is it, it's over." I then immediately thought "no, no it's not, I'm not at the end, there's still a lot of road left." But my first instinct was correct. Gravida 5 Para 1, that's me, and that's how I shall die. Gravida 6 Para 1 if you count the chemical. Despite a wee Google I can't figure out if you're supposed to count chemicals.
I did not carry these embryos home and burn incense over them. Big Shiny Fertility Factory definitely didn't seem set up for that kind of malarkey. Really, they had a hard time finding someone to witness the forms at all since there was some kind of staff meeting going on; I just wanted to get out of there. Maybe it's because the embryos from Al's were Small Boy's batch. If the embryologist had gone one to the right, one of them would be with us instead of Small Boy.
Or not. Maybe that somewhat crappy-looking embryo, which turned into a perfect little boy, was the only one in the bunch. Maybe it was the only one in both of my ovaries that was fit to make a baby, or whose peculiar chemical balance could overcome whatever clusterfuck is going on in my uterus. Maybe in all worlds it's him or no one. I can't know.
I had to try, though, didn't I?
Showing posts with label Big Shiny Fertility Factory. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Big Shiny Fertility Factory. Show all posts
Thursday, July 30, 2015
Monday, December 22, 2014
the closing of the year
So Al's IVF Shack shut down, or... was shut down, or something. The upshot is that Al's was no longer going to be offering the service of changing the ice packs and playing developmentally-enriching Mozart to my Tiny Frozen Americans. I had to get 'em out, and get 'em out by December 1.
They notified us in November, and it sent me into a bit of a tailspin.I have been moving towards making a decision... very, very slowly. Not with two weeks to decide.
Now here's the point at which this could be a different story. I could say, dear reader, we did a crazy whirlwind cycle, it was all a blur, my lining came up surprisingly well despite the lack of fussing and greymarket drugs, and surprise! I'm pregnant! and I didn't want to tell anyone until I'd seen a heartbeat!
But that's not what happened.
It was unseasonably warm and sunny on November 25. I called the lab and they agreed it was a fine time for me to come over. I went to the lab. I signed papers. They handed me an medical-supply envelope containing five tiny plastic tubes. The tubes were covered in frost when they handed them to me, but by the time I reached my car they were already just cold. I took them upstairs. I sat in Small Boy's room, which I had thought would keep being the nursery, as it's the smallest room in the house. I wanted to sit in the rocking chair but we had already sold it on Craigslist, to a nice couple with three small children who needed it for #4. I sat on the rug instead. I cried. Then I found the pack of wood-resin incense that I burned back when I was pregnant with Small Boy, praying with every cell of my atheist's heart that he would be okay. There was one stick left in the pack. I stuck it in the little bowl incense holder. I snipped open the tubes and emptied them into the bowl. Five straws of embryos made half a teaspoon or so of fluid. I had the urge to swallow it, to at least have it in me that way, but I'd talked about it before with Her Indoors and she reminded me that there are some serious chemicals that go into embryo culture medium, and I agreed that it would be an incredibly fucking stupid way to get sick. I lit the incense, and it burned.
And that was that.
I still have three embryos left at the Big Shiny Fertility Factory, three out of the nine. I'll have to make a decision about them in April or May. Or, more correctly, I'll have to make the decision about them in April or May. The evidence keeps piling up. I know what I have to do. But oh, do I shrink from doing it.
They notified us in November, and it sent me into a bit of a tailspin.I have been moving towards making a decision... very, very slowly. Not with two weeks to decide.
Now here's the point at which this could be a different story. I could say, dear reader, we did a crazy whirlwind cycle, it was all a blur, my lining came up surprisingly well despite the lack of fussing and greymarket drugs, and surprise! I'm pregnant! and I didn't want to tell anyone until I'd seen a heartbeat!
But that's not what happened.
It was unseasonably warm and sunny on November 25. I called the lab and they agreed it was a fine time for me to come over. I went to the lab. I signed papers. They handed me an medical-supply envelope containing five tiny plastic tubes. The tubes were covered in frost when they handed them to me, but by the time I reached my car they were already just cold. I took them upstairs. I sat in Small Boy's room, which I had thought would keep being the nursery, as it's the smallest room in the house. I wanted to sit in the rocking chair but we had already sold it on Craigslist, to a nice couple with three small children who needed it for #4. I sat on the rug instead. I cried. Then I found the pack of wood-resin incense that I burned back when I was pregnant with Small Boy, praying with every cell of my atheist's heart that he would be okay. There was one stick left in the pack. I stuck it in the little bowl incense holder. I snipped open the tubes and emptied them into the bowl. Five straws of embryos made half a teaspoon or so of fluid. I had the urge to swallow it, to at least have it in me that way, but I'd talked about it before with Her Indoors and she reminded me that there are some serious chemicals that go into embryo culture medium, and I agreed that it would be an incredibly fucking stupid way to get sick. I lit the incense, and it burned.
And that was that.
I still have three embryos left at the Big Shiny Fertility Factory, three out of the nine. I'll have to make a decision about them in April or May. Or, more correctly, I'll have to make the decision about them in April or May. The evidence keeps piling up. I know what I have to do. But oh, do I shrink from doing it.
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
Where do we go from here?
Merciful things: my hcg is below 5. I did not have to use my DIY Uterine Evacuation Kit. It is over, and was pretty painless.
That was my last shot on insurance. I have no idea what comes next. Crazy Al's IVF Shack? He has a clutch of my embryos from when I was a mere slip of a girl at 34. They're probably in better shape than my creaky miscarrying 38-year old eggs. Although it's possible the uterus is just broken. On the other hand, Al froze them in a second-hand popsicle maker, so the thawing attrition is likely going to be ugly. Al's documented success rate with frozen embryos is like 13%. If I wait until January I could have one more cycle covered at Al's, and out-of-pocket cycles are likely to be cheap because hey, Al.
From the clutch of 9 at Big Shiny Fertility Factory, I have three left. I could do at least one more cycle with them. It would be out of pocket, and expensive. I'm a bit resentful about how expensive, considering that I now know exactly what the insurance reimbursement they received for the same cycle was, and believe me, it's less than half the amount I'd be shelling out.
Search terms recently typed into google
secondary infertility g-
Google helpfully supplies
secondary infertility guilt
secondary infertility grief
secondary infertility giving up
I don't know what's next. I didn't honestly believe that I'd be here. I somehow trusted in the narratively satisfying ending of my third attempt succeeding. I am beginning to suspect that my uterus is not all that invested in my narrative satisfaction.
I would like to tag this with "moving on" but I'm not at all sure where I'm moving on to.
That was my last shot on insurance. I have no idea what comes next. Crazy Al's IVF Shack? He has a clutch of my embryos from when I was a mere slip of a girl at 34. They're probably in better shape than my creaky miscarrying 38-year old eggs. Although it's possible the uterus is just broken. On the other hand, Al froze them in a second-hand popsicle maker, so the thawing attrition is likely going to be ugly. Al's documented success rate with frozen embryos is like 13%. If I wait until January I could have one more cycle covered at Al's, and out-of-pocket cycles are likely to be cheap because hey, Al.
From the clutch of 9 at Big Shiny Fertility Factory, I have three left. I could do at least one more cycle with them. It would be out of pocket, and expensive. I'm a bit resentful about how expensive, considering that I now know exactly what the insurance reimbursement they received for the same cycle was, and believe me, it's less than half the amount I'd be shelling out.
Search terms recently typed into google
secondary infertility g-
Google helpfully supplies
secondary infertility guilt
secondary infertility grief
secondary infertility giving up
I don't know what's next. I didn't honestly believe that I'd be here. I somehow trusted in the narratively satisfying ending of my third attempt succeeding. I am beginning to suspect that my uterus is not all that invested in my narrative satisfaction.
I would like to tag this with "moving on" but I'm not at all sure where I'm moving on to.
Tuesday, November 13, 2012
Well, that's done.
Accomplished in the past week:
1) Re-elect President Obama;
2) Pass marriage equality legislation in my state;
3) Transfer embryos to uterus.
As you can see, I've been busy.
All kidding aside, it's been an odd few weeks. I've been tied up in knots upon knots about the election. It's not something I like to think about, but for the past 15 (fifteen. FIFTEEN) years we've been coping with the fact that Her Indoors is not an American citizen. We've patched temporary visas together legally so far, but with very little sense of security. If Obama manages to do something about DOMA during his second term, things could change for us in an earth-shattering way. I knew there was a zero percent chance of anything like that happening under a President Romney, so... I was pinning a lot of hope on this election. Not to mention the whole marriage equality thing which was/is incredibly important to me. So between one thing and another, the past few weeks have been a blur of anxiety and hopefulness.
On that subject: I have had major lining-related setbacks in the past, so I was pretty nervous about my lining check on Nov 5. I was delighted when they found my lining to be 8.79mm -- this is not rockstarish (back before Asherman's, I used to produce 11-14mm) but it's comfortably above the 8mm cutoff that my clinic uses. Previous cycles had settled down around 6.5mm. I know there are a couple of others out there struggling with lining issues, so here's a summary of what might have made a difference for me. There are details regarding vaginas below, but I figure anyone grossed out by that probably isn't reading my blog.
Transfer was smooth. The receptionist said "Good luck, ladies!" as we walked in, which pleased me. We may be lesbians, but we're still ladies, dammit. Gauged the water/bladder fullness pretty well; I was uncomfortable, but not in agony. Was not offered a picture of the embryos, which was a bit disappointing, but which I have to admit is sensible. Blastocysts were fair quality upon thaw; I've not too fazed, though, considering the fact that my only take-home baby has come from the worst-quality embryo I ever transferred. Pretty is as pretty does, you know?
So now... we wait. And I eat pineapple, out of a sense of tradition and ritual. And bathe in the knowledge that, positive or negative, BFN or BFP, come Jan 1 we can get freaking married, and come Jan 20 we'll be watching President Obama up there on the podium. I've gotten two out of my three wishes for November. I'm hoping for a hat-trick, but no matter what happens, it's been a stonking good month.
1) Re-elect President Obama;
2) Pass marriage equality legislation in my state;
3) Transfer embryos to uterus.
As you can see, I've been busy.
All kidding aside, it's been an odd few weeks. I've been tied up in knots upon knots about the election. It's not something I like to think about, but for the past 15 (fifteen. FIFTEEN) years we've been coping with the fact that Her Indoors is not an American citizen. We've patched temporary visas together legally so far, but with very little sense of security. If Obama manages to do something about DOMA during his second term, things could change for us in an earth-shattering way. I knew there was a zero percent chance of anything like that happening under a President Romney, so... I was pinning a lot of hope on this election. Not to mention the whole marriage equality thing which was/is incredibly important to me. So between one thing and another, the past few weeks have been a blur of anxiety and hopefulness.
On that subject: I have had major lining-related setbacks in the past, so I was pretty nervous about my lining check on Nov 5. I was delighted when they found my lining to be 8.79mm -- this is not rockstarish (back before Asherman's, I used to produce 11-14mm) but it's comfortably above the 8mm cutoff that my clinic uses. Previous cycles had settled down around 6.5mm. I know there are a couple of others out there struggling with lining issues, so here's a summary of what might have made a difference for me. There are details regarding vaginas below, but I figure anyone grossed out by that probably isn't reading my blog.
What I did
- Delestrogen shots instead of estrogen pills. I think this made a big difference for me. With my last two FETs we piled on the pills in hope of fattening my lining. This gave me a pounding headache, constant nausea, and a skimpy lining, though my E2 was >1000. Delestrogen, on the other hand, has given me physiologically reasonable level of 294, no side effects, and a decent lining. Totes worth the butt-shot every third night.
- Viagra. The doctor at Big Shiny Fertility Factory doesn't believe in Viagra to improve lining. I do. Rather than attempting to argue the point, I just quietly procured a passel of off-brand 25mg pills from an obliging Indian pharmacy and tucked one Up There four times a day from the start of estrogen to the first day of progesterone. Since the relevant study was done using suppositories, I first tried an elaborate scheme to construct suppositories with a pill-crusher, microwave, and cocoa butter inserts. This was tremendously messy and tremendously tedious. The next thing I tried was simply stuffing one into the relevant tract. Worked beautifully, with minimal muss or fuss. A tip to anyone trying this at home: it worked even better when I inserted it with 1ml of Preseed, the kind that comes in the tube with the applicator. Most effective method was to draw up 1ml of the Preseed, turn the applicator with the open end facing the ceiling, draw the plunger back a bit more, and balance the pill on top of the lube.
Incidentally, I chose the Preseed not because I was afraid of some other lube damaging embryos or whatever, but because Preseed is pH-neutral, has no glycerin, and (most importantly) had just the right applicator to fit a Viagra pill into. $20 at Target. - Vitamin E. For this I didn't actually follow the study protocol of 600 mg/day; I used Dr. Marsh's protocol of 1000 mg/day. Dr. Marsh is an Asherman's expert who's seen a lot of scrawny linings. I really believe this made a difference for me, maybe as much as the Viagra -- when I had my post-surgery hysteroscopy during an unmedicated cycle I had a pretty great lining (9 mm) and I wasn't taking anything but the Vitamin E then. But I typically do worse on exogenous estrogen, so I am glad I did both the Viagra and Vit E.
What I didn't do
- Acupuncture. I totally believe it can be helpful, but I was so busy that I just didn't get to this time round.
- L-arginine. I started out taking 6g a day (12 pills!). After 4 days I had rotten heartburn and decided to just give it up. Plus, its mechanism is basically the same as Viagra's (although it's taken orally), and I was afraid of Overdoing It.
Transfer was smooth. The receptionist said "Good luck, ladies!" as we walked in, which pleased me. We may be lesbians, but we're still ladies, dammit. Gauged the water/bladder fullness pretty well; I was uncomfortable, but not in agony. Was not offered a picture of the embryos, which was a bit disappointing, but which I have to admit is sensible. Blastocysts were fair quality upon thaw; I've not too fazed, though, considering the fact that my only take-home baby has come from the worst-quality embryo I ever transferred. Pretty is as pretty does, you know?
So now... we wait. And I eat pineapple, out of a sense of tradition and ritual. And bathe in the knowledge that, positive or negative, BFN or BFP, come Jan 1 we can get freaking married, and come Jan 20 we'll be watching President Obama up there on the podium. I've gotten two out of my three wishes for November. I'm hoping for a hat-trick, but no matter what happens, it's been a stonking good month.
Monday, April 30, 2012
Day 4 embryo report
We have:
9 morulas (morulae?)
1 "9+ cells"
2 8 cells
1 7 cells
1 3 cell
1 2 cell
1 eager-beaver early blastocyst (the nurse thought this was a good thing, so maybe I'm wrong? but my research says too fast, man)
1 no change for one day, on probation
1 no change for two days, discarded
So, the wee ones are still dividin' like champs. Now is the time I'm super grateful for being at Big Shiny Fertility Factory, with their Big Shiny Excellent Embryology Lab. Although I loved Dr. Stewart's Discount IVF Shack, I just can't be confident in their lab. And from here on in, it's all down to the lab (and the embryos, of course).
We'll see how this batch turns out, but I've thought a bit about the "ugly duckling" stage that my embryos went through last cycle, when they slowed down mightily between D3 and D5. I've since learned that a lot of labs aren't particularly good at blastocyst culture. Blastocysts have different needs than embryos, and between days 3 and 5 the labs have to make a lot of adjustments, I dunno, give them different food, plump up their tiny pillows, something, stuff, do I look like an embryologist? It's also an awkward and trying time chromosomally, so it could very well be that my embryos weren't/aren't good at making the transition... but a different lab may help.
So! 9 morulas, full speed ahead!
9 morulas (morulae?)
1 "9+ cells"
2 8 cells
1 7 cells
1 3 cell
1 2 cell
1 eager-beaver early blastocyst (the nurse thought this was a good thing, so maybe I'm wrong? but my research says too fast, man)
1 no change for one day, on probation
1 no change for two days, discarded
So, the wee ones are still dividin' like champs. Now is the time I'm super grateful for being at Big Shiny Fertility Factory, with their Big Shiny Excellent Embryology Lab. Although I loved Dr. Stewart's Discount IVF Shack, I just can't be confident in their lab. And from here on in, it's all down to the lab (and the embryos, of course).
We'll see how this batch turns out, but I've thought a bit about the "ugly duckling" stage that my embryos went through last cycle, when they slowed down mightily between D3 and D5. I've since learned that a lot of labs aren't particularly good at blastocyst culture. Blastocysts have different needs than embryos, and between days 3 and 5 the labs have to make a lot of adjustments, I dunno, give them different food, plump up their tiny pillows, something, stuff, do I look like an embryologist? It's also an awkward and trying time chromosomally, so it could very well be that my embryos weren't/aren't good at making the transition... but a different lab may help.
So! 9 morulas, full speed ahead!
Friday, April 27, 2012
Holy moly!
My retrieval was yesterday. I haven't posted much because, well, I was kind of dejected.
By stim day 9, my E2 was up to 1400. By day 11, it was up to 2600. I was told that a dozen or so follicles were chugging along. I triggered the night of day 11, making for a ten-day stim period, precisely the same as my first and third IVFs.
By Thursday, Retrieval Day, I was feeling... tender. As in oh-god-I-never-noticed-that-speed-bump-was-quite-so-bumpy tender. I thought maybe this boded well, but I am nothing if not a rugged pessimist.
Retrieval went fine. Cab was eight minutes late, which reduced me to a rage-filled mess, but we got there fine, everything was fine, there was fineness. As usual, I took the anesthesia flawlessly and woke up in a high good humor. I'm just super lucky in that whatever chemical pathways those drugs are supposed to tread are clearly wide open in my body; I go down like a sack of taters, and wake up like a sack of giggly taters.
I woke up, and eventually my doctor came by to say that he'd retrieved 27.
Whaaaa ---
My peak E2, the morning after trigger, was 3100. The most follicles I'd be told about was 13 or 14. My doctor had decided to switch from the Lupron trigger to the regular hCG trigger, airily saying "there aren't that many follicles, you'll be fine."
Where the hell were all of them hiding, is what I want to know?
It seems I may owe an apology to Dr. Stewart. For my third IVF, he counted 14 follicles and ended up retrieving 23 eggs. I attributed this mismatch to his rather ancient ultrasound equipment. But the ultrasound at Big Shiny Fertility Factor does everything but insert the wand itself. I'm going to have to form some theory that my ovaries are just coy little beasties, and sometimes they don't like to show their eggs until they absolutely have to.
When I heard "27 eggs" I immediately tamped down my expectations by reasoning that, with the E2 so low, most of them couldn't be mature.
Well. Of the 27 eggs, 24 were mature, and 18 of them fertilized.
This is, in technical terms, awesome.
So why was the E2 so low? Who knows. This cycle I took an antagonist, which various sources hint can lower estrogen levels and/or make estrogen tests less reliable. All I know is that a lousy cycle, my worst ever, suddenly turned into my best cycle in terms of mature eggs, and my second-best cycle in terms of fertilization (on IVF #1, I had one more).
I'm on OHSS watch, but I don't feel too bad -- tender and swollen, but taking it easy and sipping electrolyte drinks. Finally getting around to watching Legend of Korra (I was/am a huge A:TLA fan). Right now just being quiet, grateful, and wishing my best to the 18 little clumps of cells in a laboratory fifteen minutes down the road.
By stim day 9, my E2 was up to 1400. By day 11, it was up to 2600. I was told that a dozen or so follicles were chugging along. I triggered the night of day 11, making for a ten-day stim period, precisely the same as my first and third IVFs.
By Thursday, Retrieval Day, I was feeling... tender. As in oh-god-I-never-noticed-that-speed-bump-was-quite-so-bumpy tender. I thought maybe this boded well, but I am nothing if not a rugged pessimist.
Retrieval went fine. Cab was eight minutes late, which reduced me to a rage-filled mess, but we got there fine, everything was fine, there was fineness. As usual, I took the anesthesia flawlessly and woke up in a high good humor. I'm just super lucky in that whatever chemical pathways those drugs are supposed to tread are clearly wide open in my body; I go down like a sack of taters, and wake up like a sack of giggly taters.
I woke up, and eventually my doctor came by to say that he'd retrieved 27.
Whaaaa ---
My peak E2, the morning after trigger, was 3100. The most follicles I'd be told about was 13 or 14. My doctor had decided to switch from the Lupron trigger to the regular hCG trigger, airily saying "there aren't that many follicles, you'll be fine."
Where the hell were all of them hiding, is what I want to know?
It seems I may owe an apology to Dr. Stewart. For my third IVF, he counted 14 follicles and ended up retrieving 23 eggs. I attributed this mismatch to his rather ancient ultrasound equipment. But the ultrasound at Big Shiny Fertility Factor does everything but insert the wand itself. I'm going to have to form some theory that my ovaries are just coy little beasties, and sometimes they don't like to show their eggs until they absolutely have to.
When I heard "27 eggs" I immediately tamped down my expectations by reasoning that, with the E2 so low, most of them couldn't be mature.
Well. Of the 27 eggs, 24 were mature, and 18 of them fertilized.
This is, in technical terms, awesome.
So why was the E2 so low? Who knows. This cycle I took an antagonist, which various sources hint can lower estrogen levels and/or make estrogen tests less reliable. All I know is that a lousy cycle, my worst ever, suddenly turned into my best cycle in terms of mature eggs, and my second-best cycle in terms of fertilization (on IVF #1, I had one more).
I'm on OHSS watch, but I don't feel too bad -- tender and swollen, but taking it easy and sipping electrolyte drinks. Finally getting around to watching Legend of Korra (I was/am a huge A:TLA fan). Right now just being quiet, grateful, and wishing my best to the 18 little clumps of cells in a laboratory fifteen minutes down the road.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Yayyyyyyyyyyyyy!
I am bouncing off the walls with gratitude and relief. Big Shiny Fertility Factory, here I come!
(yes, the picture to the right is what I imagine it's going to be like, except that instead of having a star on my belly, it'll be a baby in there.)
I have three big folders of information from BSFF in my desk drawer at work; I haven't wanted to look at them for fear that I'd be looking at what I couldn't have. Gonna take them home tonight.
Wheeee!
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Errrrrrrrrrrrgh.
The good:
Meeting with Big Shiny Fertility Factory doctor went well. I can work with him. He had some good things to say and wasn't put off by my knowing a lot of doctor-words. Some doctors hate it when you use doctor-words.
Not so good:
My insurance has kicked me back as not having IVF coverage, because I am not married and am using donor sperm. Now, I did check with my Benefits department in 2008 to make sure that this insurance plan covered the same as my other insurance plan (i.e., without regard to marital status or donor sperm). I was told that they did, which is why I switched my insurance. Now I'm being told differently. This is, quite literally, the $20,000 question.
If I'm not covered then. Well. I can wait a year, and switch back to my old insurance, on which I have one cycle remaining. Waiting a year is not a great idea when you're 38, not if you actually want to have a baby.
We could take out loans and pay out of pocket. This is, obviously, a major commitment, and not one that Her Indoors and I necessarily see eye-to-eye on.
We could try again at home, using sperm from a different donor. This would make me sad, because I'd love Small Boy to have a full genetic sibling.
I'm kind of in a blind panic about the insurance coverage, angry at myself for not double-triple-quadruple-checking, angry that this, this could be what determines our family size, angry that we are so dependent upon others, angry, angry, angry that the last pregnancy didn't stick around when maybe it was my last chance or close to it.
I've got an email out to the Head Benefits Muk-a-Muk. Until I hear back about that I'm going to be on the knife edge.
Did I mention angry?
Meeting with Big Shiny Fertility Factory doctor went well. I can work with him. He had some good things to say and wasn't put off by my knowing a lot of doctor-words. Some doctors hate it when you use doctor-words.
Not so good:
My insurance has kicked me back as not having IVF coverage, because I am not married and am using donor sperm. Now, I did check with my Benefits department in 2008 to make sure that this insurance plan covered the same as my other insurance plan (i.e., without regard to marital status or donor sperm). I was told that they did, which is why I switched my insurance. Now I'm being told differently. This is, quite literally, the $20,000 question.
If I'm not covered then. Well. I can wait a year, and switch back to my old insurance, on which I have one cycle remaining. Waiting a year is not a great idea when you're 38, not if you actually want to have a baby.
We could take out loans and pay out of pocket. This is, obviously, a major commitment, and not one that Her Indoors and I necessarily see eye-to-eye on.
We could try again at home, using sperm from a different donor. This would make me sad, because I'd love Small Boy to have a full genetic sibling.
I'm kind of in a blind panic about the insurance coverage, angry at myself for not double-triple-quadruple-checking, angry that this, this could be what determines our family size, angry that we are so dependent upon others, angry, angry, angry that the last pregnancy didn't stick around when maybe it was my last chance or close to it.
I've got an email out to the Head Benefits Muk-a-Muk. Until I hear back about that I'm going to be on the knife edge.
Did I mention angry?
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Selective attention
- Everywhere I go I see pregnant women and tiny babies and brothers and sisters clinging to each other. It's okay, it'll fade, it's just such an odd phenomenon.
- Her Indoors keeps dreaming that we lose Small Boy (literally, in a crowd or something). Last night I dreamed that he was kidnapped, but I beat up a building full of thugs and got him back. He ran outside to my getaway car (and old Jeep. I'm not sure what that means) and I worried about the lack of an approved carseat, but threw up my hands and drove away anyway. So in the end, I guess it was an empowering dream.
- The bills from the D&C are rolling in and... I owe nothing! Turns out I hit my out-of-pocket maximum right before all that. It's surprising how soothing that discovery is.
- All quiet on the uterine front. Trying to get my medical records (fruitless so far), waiting for my appointment with Big Shiny Fertility Factory.
- Working up to a post on the subject of Ooops Pregnancies and the Infertile Blogger.
- My health insurance was actually real sweet when I called them. I was armed to the teeth in Sarcastic Mode and they instantly disarmed me. The person at the other end of the phone apologized twice, and said "I'm sorry for your loss." It is amazing just how good it is to hear those words from an outside party. I remember when going over my history with the nurse who was doing our non-stress tests, I had to mention the first miscarriage, and the nurse said "oh, I'm sorry". And I was so grateful to her for just stopping for two seconds to acknowledge that. It really does mean something.
- The last Saturday passed without notice. This is a good thing because it means I've stopped counting. I had to look at a calendar just now to confirm that yes, it would have been 9 weeks. But you know, it wouldn't have. That blast just didn't have what it needed to survive; there's no world where that particular embryo turned into our child. The aberration was that it implanted at all.
I'm on one of those birth-month boards and at least 80% of the posters have a second child by now, or are in the process of building one. Now I'm starting to see the posts from women who got pregnant at the same time I did, but with a happier ending. At first it was acutely painful, but as time goes on and our fates diverge, it starts to feel less personal. I was never on that road. I only thought I was.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
8 days past D&C: the next act.
I hesitated over the title of this post. When TTC, everything has an anchor: so many days since cycle day 1, so many days past ovulation, so many days post transfer. Now? I'm floating. Cycle day nothing, as Dr. Stewart once called it.
Thing're okay. I always underestimate how much of my pain and stress is due to being jacked up on hormones. The frisky hormones are nearly gone now; the line on my pee-sticks is almost invisible, a ghost of a line that only a crazy pee-stick-scryer could ever see. My estrogen and progesterone should have plunged, accordingly. I never had a hard bleed after the D&C, just a week or so of desultory spotting, and very little cramping. I've been lucky. I think Dr. Stewart did a very good job with the D&C, and got everything he needed to get.
I feel good about the medical care I got during the whole debacle. So good that I'm having second thoughts about switching clinics.
See, for the past few years, I've had insurance that only covered a very few practices, including Dr. Stewart's one-man show. We'll call it Dr. S's IVF Shack. I think Dr. Stewart is a very good doctor, and I personally like him immensely (as you can tell by the fact that his nickname is inspired by my beloved Jon Stewart). Dr. Stewart is smart, kind, funny, and listens to me. He treats Her Indoors well, and gives a very gentle pelvic. His practice is literally five minutes away from where we work and live. And Dr. Stewart got us Small Boy.
But. But. But. Dr. Stewart really is a one-man show. If Dr. Stewart is running late or has an emergency, then we wait, sometimes for more than an hour. Dr. Stewart's embryology lab is an unknown quantity, and seems to have uneven results. Sometimes they've done well by me, but then there was the time when it took seven vitrified embryos to get to two to transfer (most places have a 90% thaw success rate with vitrified). Dr. Stewart's ultrasound machine is old and fuzzy. Dr. Stewart does not do ultrasound-guided embryo transfers. All IVF practices have to report success rates to the CDC/SART for public reporting. Dr Stewart's statistics stink. Now, I really believe that this is at least partially because Dr Stewart does not cherrypick patients; I can't imagine him turning anyone away, no matter how hopeless their case. A lot of programs have restrictions so as not to damage their stats; won't treat women over a certain age, weight, FSH... I can believe that Dr. Stewart doesn't care about any of that.
But. But.
About 20 minutes away from me is another practice, let's call it Big Shiny Fertility Factory. As of January 1, my insurance will be one that is accepted by Big Shiny Fertility Factory. Big Shiny Fertility Factory has very good stats. I am sure that Big Shiny Fertility Factory has all the latest equipment. Big Shiny Fertility Factory is a group practice, and a friend who goes there says that it's a smooth-running operation with little wait for appointments or scans.
We have an appointment for a consult at Big Shiny Fertility Factory on January 4. Big Shiny Fertility Factory sent me a big, shiny packet of glossy brochures and welcome information. Big Shiny Fertility Factory has patient-appointment liaisons who reach out to you to guide you through the harrowing appointment-making process (I am not even kidding).
I don't know how I feel about all of this. Sorry to be thinking of leaving Dr. Stewart. Excited about trying something new. I guess I don't mind being sucked into the Big Shiny Fertility Factory Machine if I get spat out the other side with a baby.
A strong point in favor of Big Shiny Fertility Factory: I just called Dr. Stewart to make my post-op appointment. I was on hold for a while, and it was awful. The hold music at Dr. Stewart's makes me instantly shaky and nauseated; just thinking of it makes my eyes well up. I've just gotten too much bad news right after hearing that music. The thought of never ever hearing that music again is an uplifting one.
Thing're okay. I always underestimate how much of my pain and stress is due to being jacked up on hormones. The frisky hormones are nearly gone now; the line on my pee-sticks is almost invisible, a ghost of a line that only a crazy pee-stick-scryer could ever see. My estrogen and progesterone should have plunged, accordingly. I never had a hard bleed after the D&C, just a week or so of desultory spotting, and very little cramping. I've been lucky. I think Dr. Stewart did a very good job with the D&C, and got everything he needed to get.
I feel good about the medical care I got during the whole debacle. So good that I'm having second thoughts about switching clinics.
See, for the past few years, I've had insurance that only covered a very few practices, including Dr. Stewart's one-man show. We'll call it Dr. S's IVF Shack. I think Dr. Stewart is a very good doctor, and I personally like him immensely (as you can tell by the fact that his nickname is inspired by my beloved Jon Stewart). Dr. Stewart is smart, kind, funny, and listens to me. He treats Her Indoors well, and gives a very gentle pelvic. His practice is literally five minutes away from where we work and live. And Dr. Stewart got us Small Boy.
But. But. But. Dr. Stewart really is a one-man show. If Dr. Stewart is running late or has an emergency, then we wait, sometimes for more than an hour. Dr. Stewart's embryology lab is an unknown quantity, and seems to have uneven results. Sometimes they've done well by me, but then there was the time when it took seven vitrified embryos to get to two to transfer (most places have a 90% thaw success rate with vitrified). Dr. Stewart's ultrasound machine is old and fuzzy. Dr. Stewart does not do ultrasound-guided embryo transfers. All IVF practices have to report success rates to the CDC/SART for public reporting. Dr Stewart's statistics stink. Now, I really believe that this is at least partially because Dr Stewart does not cherrypick patients; I can't imagine him turning anyone away, no matter how hopeless their case. A lot of programs have restrictions so as not to damage their stats; won't treat women over a certain age, weight, FSH... I can believe that Dr. Stewart doesn't care about any of that.
But. But.
About 20 minutes away from me is another practice, let's call it Big Shiny Fertility Factory. As of January 1, my insurance will be one that is accepted by Big Shiny Fertility Factory. Big Shiny Fertility Factory has very good stats. I am sure that Big Shiny Fertility Factory has all the latest equipment. Big Shiny Fertility Factory is a group practice, and a friend who goes there says that it's a smooth-running operation with little wait for appointments or scans.
We have an appointment for a consult at Big Shiny Fertility Factory on January 4. Big Shiny Fertility Factory sent me a big, shiny packet of glossy brochures and welcome information. Big Shiny Fertility Factory has patient-appointment liaisons who reach out to you to guide you through the harrowing appointment-making process (I am not even kidding).
I don't know how I feel about all of this. Sorry to be thinking of leaving Dr. Stewart. Excited about trying something new. I guess I don't mind being sucked into the Big Shiny Fertility Factory Machine if I get spat out the other side with a baby.
A strong point in favor of Big Shiny Fertility Factory: I just called Dr. Stewart to make my post-op appointment. I was on hold for a while, and it was awful. The hold music at Dr. Stewart's makes me instantly shaky and nauseated; just thinking of it makes my eyes well up. I've just gotten too much bad news right after hearing that music. The thought of never ever hearing that music again is an uplifting one.
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