And here we go.

Good:

1. My blood pressure is (after vigorous application of medication) back in a range that will allow me to pursue fertility treatment.
2. At today's CD3 appointment, my antral follicle count was 20, which is pretty great for an old lady like me.

Ungood:
Although my FSH was a fine 7.4, my E2 (estrogen) was an elevated 104.  WTH? Last October, four short months ago, I had perfectly wonderful stats of E2 43, FSH 5.9. What the heck? I mean, I did have a birthday in the meantime, but I was sort of hoping that my ovaries wouldn't notice me sliding into a different age bracket (most clinics have a category of "38 and up"). I guess they noticed.

I just can't help but feel like that last miscarriage kind of broke me.

Waiting.

The good news is that I finally, finally, finally got my period, a cool 65 days after the D&C.

The bad news is that my blood pressure has inexplicably gone crazy, and I can't start an IVF cycle until it's under control again. If my cycle goes back to being regular (please please) then that means probably another 32 days.

Waiting, waiting, waiting.

On the interesting side, apparently two miscarriages and a chemical pregnancy adds up to "three losses", which won me a karotype and a recurrent loss panel.  I had about a pint of blood drawn; we shall see if anything turns up. I'll be surprised if it does. I honestly think it's just been a bit of bad luck. I mean, theoretically I know that for some people the ratio of positive pregnancy tests to babies is 1:1, but... it seems like a frankly ludicrous thing to expect.

I guess I'll spend this month, I dunno, inhaling lavender and doing yoga breathing and drinking pomegranate juice and stuff. I let a lot go by the wayside in order to survive the whole becoming-unpregnant thing:I guess this month is my chance to get as sane and healthy as possible before I get back on the crazytrain.

Yayyyyyyyyyyyyy!

Got confirmation that they've updated their plan description so that gay homosexual lesbians are now covered.

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!

Fingers crossed

The senior director for benefits at {my very large employer} is confident that it's a mixup, so I feel a fair bit better. I know I move to "what if" too quickly, but I'm just crappy at waiting and seeing, you know? Far more important to start freaking out immediately.

So -- there is hope. Everything crossed.


ETA: After the official email, the director wrote me a separate email, wishing us success and a baby in 2012. I'm all verklempt.  I do love my workplace sometimes.

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?

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.

Oh, FFS.

Dear Health Insurance,

I approve of your proactive focus on wellness. It's innovative and no doubt cost-effective to start supporting pregnant women's health from the very beginning of their pregnancy. It's efficient that you don't have to rely upon your members to inform you of their pregnancy. What do you do, wait for something to be billed to the "prenatal visit" billing code? Clever.

But before you send out the glossy welcome material, before you send the box full of pregnancy-friendly snacks and coupons, plastered all over with pictures of tiny multicultural hands and feet and scrumptious pictures of weensy newborn babes --

You might want to check your records a little more closely and see if the person who recently filed a claim for prenatal services has, even more recently, filed a claim for hospital services for a D&C. You could maybe save yourself a little money that way.

Sincerely,
A distinctly unpregnant member.