Cost/Benefit Analysis

September 10, 2009

Hubby and I had our weekly session with the therapist last night.  We talked about how I was done with the Clomid and Hubby voiced his concern that because I said I was done with the Clomid that I was giving up on everything all together.  Would I move on to injectables?  Would I see another RE, maybe someone over at Duke?  He was very upset with me when I said I would but I know they can’t do anything for me.  He thinks I’m being negative and giving up.  I’m not, I swear it.

There is nothing that anyone can do for my translocated chromosome that has a better chance of producing a living baby than us trying to conceive naturally.  IVF with PGD has only a 20% success rate.  We do better than that on our own.  There is egg donation but that is $17,000 and I have no idea how much insurance would cover and what if that doesn’t work?  Success rate there is like in the 30s, I think…That would mean REALLY no money for adoption because we put our whole basket in with the eggs…

That being said, I requested an appointment with Duke Fertility Clinic.  I don’t even DARE to hope that someone there would attempt to think outside the box, using that two hundred thousand dollar education to try and come up with another possible solution.  I have a feeling they are going to tell us, “you can’t change genetics.”  That is, if they are even up to speed with what RBT is…I’m tired of educating people who are supposed to be specialists in this field about what the hell is wrong with me….from now on, I direct them to my blog…I’ll go with an open mind for Hubby.

I guess what I am saying is that I’m finally resigned to sit back and just continue to do what we have been doing.  I can’t see running around trying to make something happen with all of this outside medical intervention when that’s not what got us the boys.  Me and Hubby, we made the boys.  No one else.  Just us.  I’ve accepted that no one is going to make this happen but me and Hubby.  No one has the magic pill, no one has the perfect egg, no one has a check for $15,000.  I have great friends who are supportive and understanding and I’m so grateful for them but in the end, no one is going to hand me what I want – a baby with Hubby.

But do not be mistaken, that doesn’t mean I’m giving up.  In fact, it’s the complete opposite of giving up.  I’m doing an emotional cost/benefit analysis.  I can throw my hope behind Hubby and I.  I can’t throw it behind Dr. S, UNC, Clomid, IVF, egg donation, Duke  or anyone else….I’ve got limited amounts of hope and there is just not enough to go around…

I choose me and Hubby.

Have you ever woken up and wanted to beat the crap out of your husband for something he did in your dream?  Yeah, me too.

I took a nap Sunday afternoon (because it was a long weekend after the State Farm, the Farmer’s Market, and it was cold – I’m allowed) and I had a dream.  I dreamed that I went into the living room, picked up my adorable 18 month old little GIRL with curly dark hair and big blue eyes (it could actually happen – both my mother and my SIL have black hair) and noticed that she had a tattoo on the back of her neck (oh wait people, that’s not even the reason I got mad).  The tattoo was her name in that cursive script that you see in a lot of stereo-typical images on Mexican gang-bangers (maybe it’s true, I don’t know any gang-bangers personally).  But it wasn’t the name that Hubby and I had agreed on or had been calling her for the last 18 months.  Hubby had our little girl tattooed with the name, “Lucia Marie.” 

WHAT!!??!

First, he tattooed our child.  His reason was so that he could find her on the playground.  And I was mad about that, of course.  But more importantly (to my dream self) was that he named her “Lucia Marie.”  When we were deciding on baby names (in real life), we agreed that no one’s middle name would be “Marie…”  Sorry on all you “Maries” out there, it’s just a middle name that I don’t enjoy.  I personally think there are more creative middle names than “Marie” or “Lynn” or “Jane.”  And “Lucia?” I mean really, it’s a nice name and all but we are Polish.  It’s a little off.

So just to recap, I was angry about the tattooing but I was livid about the name he tattooed on our child.  Very funny.

Needless to say, when I woke up, I punched Hubby in the arm and told him if he was going to tattoo our daughter’s name on the back of her neck so that he could easily locate her on the playground, it had better be a name that we both agreed on and for Christ’s sake, her middle name had better not be “Marie” or he was a dead man.

He just looked at his nutso wife and smiled and said, “what’s for dinner?”

Brown Chicken, Brown Cow

October 14, 2008

It’s that time again.  It’s time to try and knock up this Giant Panda.*  Under the watchful eyes of Freda the Fertility Goddess, we are backing to baby-making this week.  I wonder if my poor hubby thinks, “crap, I gotta put out like every night this week…jeez, that’s a lot of sex…”  Nah.

Have you ever gone on the Internet and looked up the phrase, “trying to conceive”?  It’s amazing the advice that comes up.  “Don’t ‘do it’ every day” vs. “do ‘do it’ every day and sometimes twice a day unless you have sperm issues and then don’t do it every day,” or “it’s not necessary to put your knees up” vs. “you should put your knees up for at least 30 minutes.” And my favorite, “don’t think about making a baby while having sex” vs. “you should be picturing your perfect little baby while having sex, inviting that baby to come and be a part of your lives…”  Really? 

And then there is the drink water-don’t drink caffeine-swig Robitussin-don’t take decongestants-no junk food-only veggies (great so I am blotted and gassy for sex…fun!) advice sites.  And let’s not talk about the sites that have decided if you are anywhere in the neighborhood of 35, you are screwed (literally and figurative) in terms of making a little bundle of joy…What’s a girl to do (besides have sex)?

You already know that OPKs make me nutso so I have decided to put a moratorium on myself in terms of searching the Internet.  No more.  Every time I start to go for the mouse and click my way into crazy, I am putting a dollar into a jar.  I must stop the madness.

The only thing I need to have a baby is my husband and my eggs.  Everybody here?  Present and accounted for?  Good.  I have everything I need.

Happy Brown Chicken, Brown Cow to the rest of you.

* You a little concerned about all the animal references?  Yeah, me too.

Time Travel

August 12, 2008

There are some days that I just wish I could speed up time.  I wish I could go forward in time to where this doesn’t hurt so bad.  Forward to when we are trying for another baby and then past that to when we can take a HPT and get a positive result.  I just want to hit all the happy spots in my life right now.  I am tired of the sadness and disappointment.  I want to have weekends like this past weekend where we laughed and had fun and life was like it was before we lost the boys.  I want to have days where I am productive at work and not totally paralyzed by grief and sadness that I can only function for a half hour at a time.

Then there are other days that I wish I could go back in time.  No, I am not sadistic but I would do anything to go back and feel them kick me again.  I would make my husband hold his hand on my belly for hours just so he could get another good kick in (instead of only the one kick he felt in the car that one time).  I would go back and take more pictures of what I looked like pregnant.  I would be better about filling out their baby book (because now it’s too hard to go back and do it).  I would kill to be able to rub my belly and sing to them in the morning.  I would go back to the minute I found out I was pregnant and I would replace that tiny little voice of fear (you know, the “Oh my god, 2 lines means what?” voice) with one of joy.  I can’t say that I would appreciate the pregnancy more because I was grateful at the time and I am grateful now for getting to be pregnant, knowing what it felt like to be their mom for 5 months but there are still things that I would give anything to do one more time.  I would take away the pain in my husband’s eyes.

Mr. Demille, I am ready for my baby.  Now.  I don’t want to replace my boys but I was ready when I got pregnant with them and I am ready now.  Again.  I am sad they are gone and I miss them but I want my next baby.  And I want to skip forward to whenever that next baby is coming, please.  I’m tired of this sadness and anger and disappointment.  When is it my time?  I am tired of being surrounded by pregnant women and infants and trying to smile when I really want to scream, “why me? why me?  WHY?  Why did this happen to US?” 

Well.  There it is, isn’t it?  I am still angry.  And I am not going to get my next baby until I am not so angry and not so sad, am I?

Now who out there has a flux capacitor I can borrow?*

* Bonus points if you know what a “flux capacitor” is….