This weekend has left me feeling very unsettled. I’ll get to that at the end…
My doctor likes to communicate with me via text, which I now realize, I appreciate. I don’t have to deal with the chaos of trying to get in touch with him at the office, and I have a record of the information he’s given us. It has become very helpful for me to be able to scroll through the texts and reread things because in the moment, I don’t always retain what was said.
I received a text from him Thursday night, at 7:53pm, the day my bloodwork was “rushed.” Eye roll. The text contained not even a single piece of good, or even helpful information. (The image of the text message below has been cropped so names are omitted.)
Allow me to clarify exactly what my thoughts were upon reading this…
- The “round” didn’t fail, all I did was take Clomid…that can not be counted as a round.
- The word failure should be eliminated from any RE’s vocabulary. (Any couple going through this already knows ALL about failure, we don’t need the doctor saying it to us!)
- HE didn’t monitor my cycle correctly. …there’s no we, HE is getting paid to get us pregnant. I don’t need the added stress of tracking and monitoring everything. …wait, I already do. My efforts haven’t resulted in a baby, so it is HIS job.
- We won’t be pregnant. This is why we are seeing him.
I let the night go by, and enjoyed some wine because #notpreggers. Throughout the night, I had come up with a series of text messages to send back to him. First draft was simple and direct. Drink a glass of wine. Said draft of text became longer and more emotionally driven. Drink a 2nd glass of wine. Said draft of text was blunt and more than 250% expressive about my disappointment. Drink another glass of wine. I can’t even be bothered to think about sending a text, because at this point, it’s turned into a speech.
The night rolled on by, and Friday morning this was what I sent back…(The image of the text message below has been cropped so names are omitted.)
Yes, there were other things to say; many many other things, but I held off. Sometimes there are certain things that are better left to a face to face conversation. I’m sure that he read the text and thought “another crazy lady that didn’t get pregnant is disappointed,” and went about his day/night/weekend. Because, as I sit here at 7:11pm on Sunday evening, I haven’t received a response. When a question is asked, a response is provided; or that’s what I’ve been taught during my 31 years. It wasn’t rhetorical, there wasn’t room for misinterpretation, there should have been an acknowledgement of my question.
Snuggled up on the couch after a weekend of entertaining friends and family, I am pessimistically thinking about round three…and more unsettled with each of these thoughts as they stream constantly through my brain…
- Bikinis and hormones.
- What will the “treatment” be this time around?
- Hormonally driven hot flashes and summer temperatures.
- How will things be monitored differently?
- More fluffiness and puffiness with a never ending dose of humidity.
- I can’t possibly have anymore ultrasounds.
- Will we even end up having another IUI, or will round three fail as well?
- Another month of watching people announce their pregnancies and have babies.
- Do we skip the IUI and jump right into IVF?
- Cost of IUI vs. cost of IVF.
- Panic attack.
Mentally and physically I would say that I am fine with starting round three. Emotionally, though…nope, nowhere near ready. I can’t prepare any semblance of emotions. I try to push them all away. Meanwhile I have the forethought of knowing that this round will probably not work. As much as I try to shove down the emotions, I know that the crash and burn is inevitable. While the third time could be a charm, statistically we (more so, I) know it won’t. This is the life of infertility…