When it all comes crashing back down (FET update)

So much to report the Internet!

Kind of.

Well, not really, because not a whole lot is happening here, but at the same time, so much has.

The time has come where the infertility treatment updates/frozen embryo transfer updates/incessant whining are going to be increasing in frequency as I try to process the fact that we’re doing this shit all over again.

The calls to the insurance company.

The appointments with the vag cam.

The medication schedule.

The shots.

The trip to Texas for a transfer.

The sheer terror that will all end badly.

The pregnancy tests. Oh, the pregnancy tests.

The betas.

Did the beta double?

Living in fear for the next nine months (best case scenario).

It’s been three years. But it feels like a lifetime ago. But it also feels familiar. But it also brings back a lot of memories.

It’s the end of July and we’re hoping to do this in October. So that basically leaves two months and some and maybe I should have been on board earlier, but it’s hard. It’s hard to make that first step and get on the phone and say Hi how are you? I need to schedule a phone consult with the doctor because we’re doing this all over again.

Here’s what happened in the last 24 hours:

I made the call. We’re going to talk with Dr. G. next Wednesday evening to discuss a plan.

I got my login information for the clinic’s portal and grabbed the consent forms and packets for Chris to print off and so we can fill out.

I went down a rabbit hole of my past messages with the nurses at the clinic. My ultrasound results. Betas. Questions about medications.

Which caused me to send a weepy email to my former nurse, M, who seems to still be working there, and telling her I loved her and please don’t leave me and by the way, I hope you remember me.

I called the insurance company and found out the World’s Best Infertility Therapist isn’t in-network for me. Back about a year ago, I had looked into seeing this therapist, but she wasn’t covered and I ended up finding a different, wonderful therapist, but while she’s been helping me with my anxiety, I really would love to see someone who specialized in treating women like me (read: crazy infertiles with PTSD issues).

So I did some good old-fashioned begging and pleading and used the fact that I’m an insane infertility patient to find out if there’s anything I can do to get her in-network. Best line from me: “I can’t choose my diagnosis, but I can choose who I see for it.” (This may have been suggested by World’s Best Infertility Therapist.)

I was transferred to a care coordinator who was actually pretty awesome considering she works for the insurance company (kidding, kidding, I used to work for an insurance company) and listened to my pleading about how I need World’s Best Infertility Therapist in my life to help me get through these next few months and possibly beyond since I learned the hard way last time that infertility sucks and you end up carrying around a lot of baggage afterwards. She’s going to initiate a Review, which sounds important, which is why I’m capitalizing it and will get back to me with updates on the process. They have ten days to approve it or not. So fingers crossed.

Speaking of baggage, let’s talk about my health and how I’ve been carrying around less baggage lately.

I gained about 20 pounds after I had Olivia. Combine that with the extra 40 I put on during the years of infertility treatments and I had a case for a very bad health status going into another possible pregnancy with my history of preeclampsia. I blame Olivia. And chips and dip. And probably Dominos. But since increased weight is a factor in preeclampsia, I wanted to minimize it as much as I could going into another possible pregnancy. So I’ve lost about 18 pounds in the last 8 weeks and I’m hoping the trend continues.

I think I’ve been putting off this whole scheduling an FET thing for so long because it’s hard to think about going back to it all. I mean, of course, there’s that awful sort of comfort that comes with it, because it’s been my life since I was 24 years old. But then I had a kid. And I felt normalish for so long now. I find myself still being unable to relate to moms who didn’t struggle to have their kids, and I still have all the emotions that come with infertility, but for the most part, I could put aside the thoughts of the fertility clinic and PIO injections and focus on being a mom. And now we’re back and it’s coming crashing into my world again that

I’m. so. fucking. infertile.

and that’s hard to deal with. You know?

Anyway. I just pounded out these 800 words or so in a span of 25 minutes and the baby has been taking an extra long nap today and I have a deadline on some articles, but I apparently had to spew this all out and I thank you for reaching the end of the word vomit.

More to come, friends.