Last Saturday I went back into the clinic before going to the library to work on the dissertation.
I still feel like I’m going to have an anxiety attack when I get on the elevator in my clinic’s building. This surely is not conducive to reproductive success.
It was eerily quiet there. It turns out they changed the hours for cycle monitoring just for that day because my doctor had to leave early. Luckily I still got there before he had left.
He sat down across from me. HUGE SMILE. “Hi! How are you!”
“I’m great,” I said.
He took a cursory look at my chart. Scanning, scanning, “You recently had a baby! Your second!”
“No,” I said evenly. “I lost that baby.”
His face fell. He looked at the chart again and actually read it. I could see he remembered.
“Is that why it’s been so long since you were here,” he asked. “That was really hard?”
Yes. Yes it was.
“Well,” I said, my voice only catching a little, “We were going away to visit Q’s family and we didn’t want to disrupt the trip at that point, and I had to get my dissertation finished.”
He didn’t have any answers. The lab at the hospital couldn’t find fetal tissue so they refused to run the tests. He said this had been happening to him so often he’d given up. Now they ran the tests in house.
“They’re being lazy,” he told me. “You can find tissue if you know where to look. It makes me so angry.”
We might have learned why the baby died, if it had died later.
We’ll never know now.
We made plans.
One last embryo.
One final FET.
He had me get my blood drawn again (about a billion vials’ worth as we had to update all my bloods) then sent me off with estrace and baby aspirin and prednisone. No metformin this time around. Apparently he doesn’t use it with FETs anymore.
He’s away for six days in the middle of the month. We decided to transfer after he was back, right before Q. and E. and I are off to visit grandparents. A point where I can relax. A point far enough away from the stress of finishing the dissertation that I’m not still living on adrenaline, but not so close to the defense that I’m freaking out about it.
Back in on Monday for a lining check, and then I guess there will be an intralipid at some point. Transfer is set for the 26th.
I’m not going to lie- I really feel like we’re just going through the motions.
He is optimistic (“the technology we use in freezing the embryos is so much better than it was a couple of years ago”), but he always is.
I mainly just want an answer. We can’t keep living in limbo. That embryo deserves its chance.
So even though I feel like we’re about to flush a couple thousand dollars down the toilet, we’ll do it.