On the advice of someone whose opinion I trust implicitly, I went to see a therapist this week – the first of many such encounters, I’m sure. Though the whole IVF thing is not the driving force for sending me into therapy, I felt it was relevant to tell her that we’re actively undergoing fertility treatment and that, in fact, the very week that therapy had been suggested to me, was the same week I had learned that IVF#2, Take 3 had not been successful.
There was a piece of me that really didn’t want to tell her about the IVF thing at all. Because people make a thing out of it. People ascribe emotional significance and stress to IVF or any infertility treatment that may or may not really be there – without really considering that every individual responds to these sorts of things differently. For me – returning to fertility treatment was returning to my “normal” – returning to my comfort zone in a weird and strange way.
But, still, I knew that it was something that needed to be mentioned, both because this particular therapist is a psychiatrist, so if the question of medication came up she’d know that right now may not be the optimal time to try that route, and because although I may not consider IVF to be a primary stressor in my life, and certainly not the driving force sending me into therapy, it definitely is a contributing factor.
And all that background brings me to the point of this post. While I was talking to Doc P. about the whole IVF thing, I told her that we would likely be attempting IVF #3 in August, but that I don’t know specifics, because I have my consult with SuperDoc on July 6th to figure all that out. And I told her that our August attempt would likely be our last IVF attempt. “And I’m okay with that,” I quickly added.
I hadn’t really thought about those words before they came out of my mouth, and I’m not really certain where they came from. Why was I saying them? What was my thought process? Did I even have a thought process?
While it’s true that technically once I run out of covered attempts with my insurance, we can switch me back to my husband’s insurance and I can do two IVFs at the clinic at his hospital – the fact is, it’s unrealistic to consider that. It’s very expensive to go that route (the coverage isn’t nearly as good), and the logistics are nearly impossible … the clinic is an hour in the wrong direction, they batch their IVFs, leaving very little flexibility on schedule, they do ALL monitoring appointments between 8 and 9am during the week, which means that I would never make it in to work before 10 or 10:30 on monitoring days during a cycle, which is impossible. So realistically speaking, it is unlikely that we’ll ever be able to go that route.
So the first part of my statement to the shrinkiedink was likely true – this next attempt is likely our last, unless one of us changes jobs again and finds ourselves with kickass coverage again.
But – am I really okay with that being it if it fails, as I expect it to?
I’m not so sure I’m really there yet. I know I said it in large part to keep the therapist from going down a long road of exploring “how I feel” about this particular thing. I don’t want to go there. I don’t want to focus on this issue. I’m not ready to discuss it. I’m not willing to share that part of me.
I was always so sure that IVF#1 would just be a breeze and we’d just be done and voila! our family would expand and that would be the end of it! Worst case scenario was that IVF#1 didn’t work, but an FET would – it had never occurred to me that there wouldn’t be anything frozen for an FET. But here I am, looking down the barrell of our last IVF and wondering whether anything will come of it.
I’m petrified of what will come of my meeting with SuperDoc July 6. A large piece of me thinkst that SuperDoc is just going to say that he wouldn’t change a thing and this is all just bad luck and we’re just going to have to hold our breath and hope for the best – but … while I know that’s probably all true, I guess it would ease my mind to hear that a different approach would yield a better result.
Mostly? I just want to move on.
And I’m quite certain that I won’t ever be okay with having my options cut off before I was really done.
ChezPerky 