My birthday is the deadline. If I’m not pregnant by then, I’m pulling out the big guns and doing IVF (It’s Very Fancy).
Did I mention my birthday is this weekend?
Yeah, so, to prepare, I scheduled a consultation at the fertility practice where we did IUI. I didn’t think I could handle any more graphs, so instead of seeing Dr. Rosenpenis, I met with his partner. Our chat was going really well until he opened a candy jar, didn’t offer me any, and instead spread five Starbursts across his desk.
He told me to imagine that the candies were my eggs.
It was hard to visualize something savory when I was looking at candy. I love candy. I wanted to swipe one and eat it but that would have diminished my egg supply.
“If you were in your 20s,” my doctor explained, “then four of the eggs would be good, chromosomally normal, make-a-baby eggs, and one would be bad. But at your age…” He rearranged the candies. “It’s more likely that one will be good, and four will be bad.”
Way to Starburst my bubble, there, doc.
I guess if you want sunshine blown up our ass, you’ve got to see a proctologist.
So I rallied, and listened, and I think this is what he said:
Left to its own devices, my body may randomly select the wrong egg, month after month. But with IVF, they can harvest all my eggs, fertilize them, and reimplant the embryos that are showing the most promise. It’s like my eggs are applying to private preschool in Manhattan.
The process calls for an insane number of appointments, tests, medications and procedures but none of that scares me more than the loud tick tock of my rusty biological clock. I think Dave should be scared though because I hear the hormones (4 times the dose from when we did IUI) might make me kind of a handful.
But if I get any sugar cravings from the drugs, please do not pass the candy jar. I’m scarred for life.
In other news, if you haven’t seen it already I have a blog on The Huffington Post this week. Even if you have seen it, the comments are worth a look – there’s quite a debate raging over whether it’s a valid choice or a horrible society-ending travesty to have kids with someone and not be married to them. A fine blog subject for another day.