Wednesday, October 29, 2014

with nails bitten to the quick

I scheduled an early December appointment with the RE (the one we met and liked a month ago).  Doing so triggered, like, every manifestation of anxiety (I'm talking shaking and tears) and every muscle memory of panic imaginable.

Is this delusion?  I am still the woman with high FSH and Diminished Ovarian Reserve walking into a fertility clinic in the hopes that they will let me attempt a miracle.  I now have four losses under my belt (one of which was chromosomally normal - perhaps the only "normal" egg I had left).  I am still "statistically unlikely" to find success.  How do you embark on something as physically and emotionally grueling as months of inject-able medications and IVF all the while knowing that there is a high statistical likelihood that it will fail?  Is this the definition of insanity?  Or desperation?  My rational mind supposes that husband and I need to turn over every rock before we give up entirely, particularly the rocks hidden under reproductive technologies that are covered by his insurance plan.  But my rational mind also sees the danger in the whole production.  Can you really emotionally detatch yourself from the reproductive process?  I ask this speaking as the woman who tried to emotionally detatch herself from a pregnancy for 11 weeks.  That worked out well. (snark).

Something to discuss with the therapist tomorrow.  Yay therapy.

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