The tale of the IVF salesman

Submitted for the approval of the infertile society, I call this story, ‘the tale of the IVF salesman’.
(If you get the above 90’s tv show reference then we need to be friends. It was the best show.)

Once upon a time, an infertile couple visited the strange land of clinic de fertility…

We had our first RE (reproductive endocrinologist) visit today. The whole experience was nice. I guess. I was so nervous all last night and today, and I don’t quite know why. I sweated so bad (which I hardly ever do) in our consult. I knew 90% of the things he told us.

But given our history he told us our odds of live birth are around or less than 10% naturally, 15% with IUI, and 40-50% with IVF.

I went into the meeting thinking I was going to try some femara monitored cycles with timed intercourse for a few months. Mr. Big and I decided in minutes while we were there that we would be going right to IVF. Mainly because our odds are crap and the last thing we want or need is another ectopic pregnancy. Our ectopic risk naturally or with IUI is pretty high. I have a gut feeling that it’d happen again. My remaining tube is clear, but the cilia may not work (probably don’t work) which means the egg would get stuck.

After the successful IVF sales pitch, it was time for the dildo cam. That’s internal ultrasound for those not intimate with one.

IVF salesman- “There’s your uterus. Looks good. Good size, good shape. There’s your lining. Nice and thick. Not too thin, not too thick. Just right. There’s your left ovary, and those are your eggs.”

Me- “Crap.” There were soooo many eggs (cysts). I already knew what he would say next.

IVF salesman- “There are a lot of eggs! You have PCOS. Look at them all! I can’t even count them!”
He tried. He got to 30, on that ovary. Another 20-30 on the other one.

He seemed rather excited. I’m not sure if it’s the worst pcos and most eggs he’s ever seen, or if he knew IVF was our only option and that thrilled the hell out of him.

The IVF salesman shot out a lot of other facts and plans for the future of my womb, and my many eggs. He knew he had us hooked. Well doc you had me at pcos! IVF is the only option! He gave me a Rx for metformin, which I filled and took in the middle of dinner as instructed.

Mr. Big still needs to get his swimmers tested.

I had many vials of blood taken from the resident vampire in the IVF salesman’s office. Those results will be in, sometime.

Assuming all that is normal, we will be going ahead with IVF in late spring. Much to the delight of the IVF salesman.

PCOS. Polycystic Ovary Syndrome. I can’t say I didn’t expect it. I mean, I have all the symptoms. Abnormal bleeding when I was a teen, lack of ovulation, infertility, acne (cystic acne), cystic ovaries, some hair where it doesn’t belong, I shed the hair on my head like a cat, I have estrogen dominance, depression, weight gain around the middle. I probably have high testosterone. I always felt like I have.

But just because I expected it doesn’t mean it’s easy to hear. I won’t go into the details of pcos now and what it means for the future. That’s another post. For now, I’m mad. Mad at pcos. Mad at genetics. Mad at IVF. Mad that I can’t have sex and get pregnant. That it’s come to this.

But I’m calm. And I’m happy. Happy that there’s still hope. Happy that IVF exists. Happy to have at least a start of a diagnosis. Happy to have a plan. Happy to be on metformin and stepping in the direction of controlling pcos which is very important.

I have a feeling my next post will be explaining pcos and what I plan to do to try and control it. To live with it.


Due Date

The last week of January is when our sweet pea would’ve been due. I should be holding an infant right now. I should be sleep deprived and a mess on the verge of losing my mind. But I’m not. I’m not anything.

I celebrated our sweet pea’s due date week with a period. After the best and most hopeful ovulation I’ve had since the ectopic. Because, why not? Right, Mother Nature? There wasn’t enough salt in those wounds.

But I didn’t even cry. I felt a sadness and longing sure. But, the tears didn’t even try to come. Part of me thinks I’ve just healed enough to handle all of that. But another part thinks maybe I’m just numb. I honestly don’t know. I got through the week. Somehow fairly easily. Maybe I just kept myself busy enough? Maybe I just pushed it far out of my mind? Maybe I was too focused on what the next steps will be? I’m trying not to stay in a depressed state of mind anyways so maybe it’s just for the best to not feel it. Or whatever I was doing.

Next step? My first RE (reproductive endocrinologist) visit at a fertility clinic. Yup. I’m officially there. Another thing that depresses me. Officially infertile.

Oh, and since this ‘cycle’ is limbo cycle because I’m not on meds while I’m waiting for the RE apt, I’m not ovulating on my own as usual. But hey it’s only cd 17. Can you feel my eye roll?