On this the week we thought we would have begun our IVF protocol had the insurance company not denied us coverage, Mulberry and I are instead having our own version of the current trend in U.S. vacations -- the staycation. While staying in our own lovely apartment that we barely see each other in, we've splurged for a cool couples' massage at a spa, had manicures/pedicures, gotten some loving in, eaten tasty treats from a local chocolate boutique, dined at our favorite gluten-free risotto restaurant, found a new mac and cheese joint, and met, shared a meal and had warm conversation on the steps of the Brooklyn Museum until the late late evening with the unquestionably sweet, fierce, and fabulous L. and H. of
babypants.
I am still trying to get my sweetie to a yoga class. First class is only ten bucks. She says she's game, we'll see. She's trying to get me to walk more. It's free.
My relaxed blissful mood was dampened a bit when we went to our RE's office and the doctor who I don't like was the one on call. He is the one who upon meeting me, did not introduce himself, went straight to the computer to adjust something and proceeded to ask me questions that he should have found in my file since I had been a client for over six months. "How many pregnancies have you had?" "Four." "And how many children do you have?" " None." "Ok." It was the nonchalant reminder of my history he invoked that lit tiny angry embers in my heart and left me in a bad mood for the rest of that day.
"You'll have to come back on Friday, " he told us. "We don't think mulberry will be ovulating yet, but we just want to check again to make sure we're on track." He was fine this go round. He introduced himself. Shook our hands. But after leaving the doctor's office, I still had that feeling of frustration which may be evidenced in my choice of dvds picked up on the way home:
John Q (a man frustrated with insurance company's refusal to cover his son's necessary care, basically takes the hospital hostage); Terminator and Terminator 2 (self-explanatory); and finally, Hurricane (a movie based on the real life of a man who at the height of his career, was wrongfully convicted of a crime for which he is incarcerated for twenty years)-- the snap out of it Dakota remember the world we're living in / inspiration movie.
So while we were recapturing the bliss and tasting four different kinds of mac and cheese (who knew?) and having a scrumptious dinner prepared by Shenandoah and her girlfriend, Peppermint, our RE (the one we really like and appreciate) called with the news that IVF has been approved for me but is still under review for mulberry.
I know I should be happy -- and I am -- there is no way we could afford this out of pocket. This is an important new first step. I guess I am more relieved than anything, but I am acutely aware today that we've got quite a ways to go here. And although our plans are altered, we are doing our best.
What am I worried about? Things I have absolutely NO control over. If we get lucky we get a healthy pregnancy/baby and good to great embryos to implant later for another healthy pregnancy/baby.
If we are not lucky we need five more rounds of tries for mulberry before an IVF may be approved and we've only a total of seven more samples of the donor we've selected as my stand-in for mulberry. Only one guy of my ethnicity on the whole cryosperm preserved continent of North America, who is (bonus!) also a musician like me. He's not giving any new donations. So when we're out of him, that is it.
If we are not lucky, for a myriad of reasons beyond control and desire, we may never get to the embryos we've saved for later.
Sigh. I'm re-reading this and I just want to say I am a lot more fun in person. Really. I am.
