I have been mulling over the signficance of seeing my dead mother visiting me, a dead magpie and my wolverine alter ego. I have been more emotional and just-plain-in-the-dumps heartbroken than I’ve felt in a long time this past week. Yesterday I had a revelation, for which I am going to give credit, at least in part, to Magpie, Wolverine and my Mom. I don’t think I would have gotten there, or maybe not this quickly, without their guidance.
Yesterday I decided I want us to start the process of planning for a frozen-donor-egg IVF cycle. I have looked at donor egg banks many times before but yesterday the light came on and I knew that was the path I should follow. I’m not entirely clear on the reason for the revelation or how I can be sure it is the right path, but somewhere in my belly, I just know. That makes no sense. Yet it does.
I told the LP. Sounding a little annoyed, he said “fine, we’ll do that then.” I am exercising all the patience and love and compassion I can muster in my depressed and somewhat lost state. I want to give him some time to come to grips with my decision. Because it needs to be our decision. (On the depression front: I’m seriously considering calling for an appointment to get a prescription – I’ve been here before and I’m recognizing the struggle I’m having not to cry at work. All day. Every day.)
The LP is trying his best. I know this. I appreciate it. He is hurting too. That I also know. In our broken states, however, I asked and he agreed to go see our counsellor. She can be very busy so I was surprised when her assistant (a) remembered us (we haven’t been in over a year); and (b) had an opening next Wednesday evening. Yay! The point of seeing her is to talk about where we are at and share how we feel about that and the donor egg option in a safe environment. Because her office is where I often find out what the LP really feels and thinks and wants and why.
I also ordered two books about having a child through egg donation. Mostly for me, partly for the LP. I did that on a rush so they should be here tomorrow. I decided that this weekend would include some “me” time with at least one of those books. I need a plan. I need a focus. I need a goal. Because without one, I feel at sea. Way out at sea. In the dark. On rough waters. Without an oar in sight.
Then today, because the masochist in me seems to know no mercy, I called my doctor’s office. I had two questions, the second of which I’ve asked before (more than once). The first was easy – what blood type am I? I know my doctor told me, but do you think I can remember that kind of thing? I am pretty sure it’s O something but that’s as close as my memory gets. I want this because I don’t know if it will matter when choosing an egg donor but in case it could impact outcome, I want to have the information in my back pocket. The second was “have you finally received the results from the karyotype testing on our baby after my D&C last September”?
My doctor’s current nurse has only been there about a year and a half but in that time she’s called me to congratulate me on being pregnant and seen me survive three miscarriages last year (the last one being the one after we saw baby’s heartbeat in September). She is very kind and compassionate. Amen for her and others like her. However, she plays by the rules. She will tell me anything as long as my doctor okays it. And this afternoon and tomorrow (because this is how fate works for me), my doctor is not in. So I’m waiting until Monday on the answer to both questions.
What? Both questions have answers? Yes, the D&C report is in. However, because it was not requisitioned by my doctor, she would not call me to discuss it unless it contained something unusual. I can appreciate that if it’s a pap smear. This is “why did our baby die, was it aneuploidy or some unknown reason that might suggest it’s my womb and not baby at all?” And something for which my doctor knew I have been waiting (since September 24, 2013 I might add). What is the litmus test for “unusual” in these circumstances?
Does “unusual” mean that one or more chromosomal abnormalities (aneuploidy) was detected, making the loss utterly banal and explicable and therefore not “unusual”? Wouldn’t I like to know that? Wouldn’t you? Isn’t that the point of asking for the test in the first place?
Or does “unusual” mean that the baby was chromosomally normal, i.e., nothing to report here, folks, let’s file that away and never mention it? But that kind of finding would mean a great deal to me. It would freak me the heck out and make me want a bunch more testing to figure out why, why, why and what to do.
I feel really betrayed by my doctor. Her nurse could tell. She said “Let me talk to her on Monday. I will call you then, whether you have to make an appointment to see her or I can give you some more information.” I thanked her. And I started to cry. Again.
What a tailspin. My attempt to be proactive has set me back 6 months to a very painful and debilitating place. How is it that doctors can let us down, time and time again? I like this doctor generally. But I’d like to rip off her eyebrows right now.
So I’ve gone from revelation to reeling in no time flat. And flattened is how I feel. I’m in a bad place, trying to keep my nose above the waves, but it keeps getting harder and harder. And darker and darker. And colder and colder.
Man, this really sucks.