After the mysterious kiss (see previous post Forty fucking four) there cometh the appointment with the fertility doctor. The one that my five months pregnant dental hygienist recommended for an endometrial scratch (more on that later).
I hate my existing fertility doctor.
Well, hate is a strong word. Viscerally repulsed by, does that work? He was defensive, not forthcoming, inefficient, cold and gave me the feeling he didn't think I'll succeed. He also refused to give me blood tests, was uninterested in my cycle, forgot details. Okay,you get the picture. I don't really need to go through him now that I'm at the IVF hospital doctor team. But I'm very glad to find another fertility doctor.
The dental hygienist had told me he was handsome. Damn right. Blue eyes, intense and no wedding ring.
Probably gay.
Actually I hate handsome heterosexual gynecologists who are decent human beings and not the misogynistic type. They feel like a humiliation at my most vulnerable moment. No man that belongs to my heart and soul to get pregnant with but there is instead this devastatingly handsome clever and decent man who is helping me for money.
Anyhow, I liked this doc. He wasn't arrogant. He likes to do the frozen embryo transfer according to my natural cycle. Meaning, he has a tendency which I agree with, to avoid unnecessary medical intervention, and to respect my body cycles. He explained that he'd take time to study all the data in my file. This I like.
I came into the appointment happy from my bus boy kiss.
The doc answered all y questions. He recommended doing the procedure to check my womb. They scratch out a bit.even though every ultrasound technician to date has been happy with how my womb lining looks, after two failed implantation tries, it could be that the failure was due to the short window my womb can accept the embryos being off kilter. The only way is to check the cells they extract. And more to the point, scratching the womb seems to prime it for.implantation in the next month.
I know the statistics but he's being so helpful.
So I ask.
Aged 44, ten embryos good quality frozen, what are my chances?
He hedges a little of course. He doesn't know my file. But all other things being equal 5-8%.
Note this doesn't mean that 12-20 attempts will get me a live birth. It means out of 100 women with my medical history a same age, 5-8 will succeed.
Like the IVF doctor at the hospital told em a few months ago- when he estimated I had less than a 5 per cent chance- don't think about the statistics. It won't help you.
When I come out of the doctors appointment, a familiar feeling comes crushing down on me.
Since I froze the embryos four months ago, letting my body have a break from the crazy hormone cycles, I had a release from the emotional and physical strain.
But one doctor appointment and it comes back.
There's something about the authority of the doctor. With it being my birthday I've been willing myself to enjoy it and I did. I intend to make the most out of life. To enjoy it. I fully intend to get pregnant. I want an interesting job and nice colleagues. I want a good salary. I so appreciate my friends. I'm feeling so positive.
And then this.
It's like this feeling of dread. Negative expectations of all the tests. A constant worry. Scenarios going through my head that there will be complications.
I catch myself. These are projections about the future. They feel true. But they are not.
I'm the bus stop. And old tree. A solid tree trunk. That's real
That's calm
That's rooted.
All these thoughts and worries. They are my work.
But then it's not so easy. There's new information the doctor gave me that I must now consider. The endomotrial scratch increases the chance of implantation by 10 per cent. Is it really worth it? Of course I have to hold and simmer thoughts in my mind, until it turns over an answer back.
But I can't carry on the next few months like this. All my enjoyment from life has gone. Feeling gorgeous for making s younger guy swoon? Gone in one fair swoop. All my mind is telling me is of stories of stress and setbacks in the months ahead.
No thanks.
Later, back near home, I sit down in a restaurant and gather my thoughts.
..tbc...
