The Fat Lady Could Be Warming Up

Well, no news is good news, right?

[silence]

RIGHT?

Okay-- Here's what happened yesterday. When I woke up, I felt like I was ready to go to a funeral. It's not like I felt it right away, but I knew there was something unpleasant to be done, and then all of sudden I remembered. I cried a little on the way to work. I checked that certain IVF bulletin board all day and tried to reassure myself with the stories from other women about beta numbers that didn't properly double but still resulted in healthy pregnancies and happy babies. I chanted "vanishing twin" to myself like a little calming mantra.

At the office, Dr. BusyBusyBusy gave us his sympathetic face as we rounded the corner. I said I was trying to not give up too much hope yet, and he started to talk, and I interrupted him. "I know it's probably stupid, but it's what I am doing." To his credit, he left it.

Up on the table. You know the drill. Dr. BBB told us that he was mainly checking for an ectopic, but admitted he probably wouldn't be able to see it unless it was really big. And he fished around and couldn't see a thing. My uterus is very thick and plush, and really, I have to say, looks very lovely on screen and I can't imagine any little rice that wouldn't be happy to have such a cozy home for nine months. But taste is personal, I guess.

I told Dr. BBB about the many things I have read, and he then appraised me of the opinion that I read too much. I immediately admonished him. "Dr. BBB," I said, my legs up in the air, "you can never read too much." And he got serious and said, "Actually, you are right about that." (Have I told you about his adorable accent? I so wish you could hear it.)

Partner asked him what we'd do if we saw an ectopic, and he said we'd all hold hands and cry a little. Man. I know we're having a hard time around here, but I just like him so much. I believe he really would hold our hands and cry.

Nothing of note on the ultrasound then. I asked about vanishing twin, and he said there was a chance of that. (Guess what I've seized on?) And that there were no answers. I have another blood test tomorrow morning that he things will give us the answer. Either it will go up, dramatically, stay the same, or go down. If it's either two of the latters, I'll stop taking my drugs. I can't even go on with the "and" that should follow that sentence. He also told me all the signs of an ectopic and I should be watching for them.

We should be realistic, he said, but to wait for Thursday. Which is tomorrow. And I am anxious about its arrival and dreading it concurrently. Just another example of how fucked up IVF makes your emotional life. I'm trying to keep perspective in check, but I also think that a person's life is just what it is as he or she is experiencing it. It's no use trying to "console" oneself that there are other people who have it worse. Of course there are. But it's still important that I note to myself all the really positive good things in my life too, and the primary one of those is my partner. We've both agreed that unless you have a really understanding significant other to go through this with, it would be so much worse than it is already. She keeps feeling horrible because this is my body this is happening (or not happening) in. I keep feeling awful because it's her little egg. What this does, ultimately, is create quite a bit of empathy for each other. So while this all feels messy and drawn out and something like the tenth circle of hell (Dante, hello? You missed the IVF circle?), I can be grateful forever for my girl.

And all the love. And all the love.