I’ve mentioned before that at my RE’s office, most of the doctors/nurses/techs don’t speak English very well. So far my biggest issue with that has been the recurring need to make them repeat things during phone calls, and the occasional abrupt and funny conversation. Then yesterday happened.
I went for CD11 blood and sono and had to wait until 4 freaking 30 for the results. The whole day started off on a sour note because I had my least favorite tech for the sono, the same tech who did my “your babies have no heartbeat” scan, so I was already feeling a little weird about the whole thing (at least it wasn’t the same room). She usually tells me nothing, except life-changing, terrible news, but today she said, “Mostly we are looking at the lining… you’re at 7.7, that’s perfect… Follicle on the left is measuring 21, and you’ll ovulate soon.” OK, I can live with perfect. Great. But then I had to wait eight hours for the blood results, which is uncommon. Despite my earlier good news, throughout the day I convinced myself that my hormone levels would be unacceptable and we’d have to cancel this cycle. They finally called.
English as a Second Language Nurse: “I do not know how to say this…”
Shit, right? She even repeated it, followed by a long silence. My heart dropped. Tears formed. I was working from home, so I looked forlornly out into the backyard, doing quick mental calculations of how we could possibly afford to do an FET on our own by next month. What about a yard sale? Maybe I could sell a kidney? How long would it take to raise the money? Seriously, in the space of 30 seconds I was already offering up my own organs to get pregnant again. Then she continued:
ESL Nurse: “I do not know how to say this, but did you give us a copy of the tissue results from your D&C? Do we have those?”
On the list of phrases to be banned from fertility clinics, I’m going to have to recommend that “I do not know how to say this” should be in the top ten. She literally did not know how to say something. I guess she didn’t realize that in the English language, prefacing your statement with, “I do not know how to say this,” means that the next thing you say will be awful, awful news. I felt both relieved and emotionally drained once I figured out what the hell she was actually saying. We straightened out the paperwork snafu and then she gave me my transfer date – June 6th. I don’t even have to go back for monitoring between now and then. I just have to start my Estrace, start my lovely PIO injections, and show up at 11:30 on Thursday to get pregnant.
I feel weird about this. We did a natural cycle FET last time, so I feel good about that, but I remember going back every day around ovulation to determine the precise time of it happening. They even gave me some nasal spray to induce it when I hadn’t ovulated by CD15. But this time, they’re just like, “Uhhh… yeah, come back Thursday. That should be good.” Maybe because it worked last time, so they don’t feel the need to be so precise? Maybe they don’t care that much? I just don’t know. And once again…I’m at the mercy of these people and cannot demand answers since I’m not a paying customer. I’m just a number in a study. I’m just a girl getting a free ride who needs to sit down and shut up.
I got a second emotional smack in the face on that same phone call. At my miscarriage ultrasound, Dr. L mentioned the possibility of just transferring one embryo for the next round. I’ve been mulling that over for the past 6 weeks and had finally come to terms with it being a good idea. I was scared of my ability to handle twins, especially for my first children, not to mention the added risks of having multiples. Plus it felt even more like trying to “replace” my lost children. So I made the decision. Yes, we would just transfer one. I had a higher level of confidence that just one would work since both of them stuck last time.
On the call, ESL Nurse said, “We will transfer two embryos.” I protested, mentioning that Dr. L had offered to just do one, but she said, “No, no that would break protocol. We have to do two.” So again… six weeks of planning and decision making was out the window. I’m scared enough to be pregnant; now the likely chance of twins again? I couldn’t sleep last night. I’m just so worried. (And before you ask if I can just talk to Dr. L, I’m now remembering that she kept getting confused if I was a clinical trial or regular patient. So she probably thought I was regular when she offered to do one. I know it makes more sense that they would have to do two again, so they don’t screw up the study).
I know, I sound like an asshole. Here I am so concerned about achieving the greatest goal: getting pregnant. Poor Amanda, her lining is just too welcoming and sticky. But I am a little messed up about the twins thing. More than I realized before I got that call. I’m stuck in that same conflicting place of wanting both my babies but only wanting to have one at a time. I can’t have it both ways, I know that.
This post just reeks of skepticism and negativity, I’m now realizing, but the entire gist of it is good news. I get to do a transfer this cycle. I knew it would be June 6th because that is my dear friend’s birthday, a friend who has been inexplicably linked to my infertility in strange and amazing ways (post explaining this further to follow). When I saw that things were lining up for early June, I thought, “The 6th. It’s definitely the 6th,” and it was.
Onward to Thursday, then…