SF and I keep talking about how we want to put up a blog post, but we can't figure out how to give voice to what we're feeling. He's out skiing with the dog this morning; I've decided to give it a shot.

Despite the reassurances of our doctor, we're both finding it hard to relax and stop worrying. My body seems to be misbehaving just enough to suck the joy out of every day: the spotting stopped for about 4 days before the last appointment, but it started up again, heavier, on Thursday. Then just a spot Friday evening. Nothing so far today, but I expect it's in the mail.

Every good thought I have seems to risk bringing misfortune down upon us. I know that sounds melodramatic. I know it is melodramatic. But I can't deny the feeling is there. It's strong enough that, after going through three miscarriages and 2 1/2 years of ART without the help of a therapist, I'm considering calling the one our RE recommended to see if she can help us relax and find the joy in what we're experiencing.

It felt like a risk to request the information packet from our hospital. It felt like a risk to call the OB/GYN. It felt like a risk to stop the PIO injections.
Our doctor has given us a 3-5% chance of miscarrying at this point. We've "beaten" the odds in so many ways before, though, that SF and I are both fully aware that those numbers above the 95th percentile still represent people. Logically, I know that requesting the hospital packet doesn't cause miscarriages, nor does filling out the OB's paperwork, nor sneaking a peek at cribs online.

Emotionally, though, it's a different story. SF sat me down a couple of days ago and said, "It's all right if we pretend we think things are going okay. If we don't, we won't ever do anything to prepare, because there's never a guarantee that things will continue as you hope."

This post feels clumsy ... but so do I.

SF's last blog post made me blush, a lot, not only because of his generosity in not blaming me for the problems we've had, but also because he's right about the other stuff -- my passport renewal form is sitting on the piano and has been for ... awhile. Sigh.

Friday started out on a rough note. Our cat had a tooth pulled a few weeks ago, and we were referred to a specialist with the news that two more of his teeth looked abscessed but were hard to get at. At his appointment on Friday, we found out he has resorptive disease and we needed to have five of his teeth pulled or consign him to a painful process as they dissolved and fell out of his head. The good news is that he seems to be recovering well from the extractions (he's curled up on my lap asleep right now). The bad news is that it was an $800 bill weren't exactly expecting, an we found out about it as we were walking out the door to go to talk about IVF.

Things went more smoothly with the RE than I'd feared they would. It was absolutely nuts there that afternoon. Every seat in the waiting room was taken, and everyone we talked to seemed a little punchy. I realize that sounds like a bad thing in a medical practice, but it really was what we needed at that point. We asked most of the questions we had, but we also laughed a lot during the appointment. Anytime I laugh more than cry in that room is a successful appointment in my book.

Although he did say he could see an argument for continuing on injectables, he pretty clearly agreed with our decision to move on to IVF. We went over a bit of the medical stuff -- he doesn't think the diminished ovarian reserve is likely to present a problem; he said he'd expect 1-3 follicles if it were trouble, but we've been getting 7-8. He seemed to think our chances were at least reasonable.

Then they brought out the price list.

My eyes went wide.

Eek! The new price listed didn't include the Preimplantation Genetic Diagnosis!

We brought that up so they could add it in ...


... and the result was still $3400 less than the price they quoted us in June. They have comped some of the procedures and have added an option of making payments (which we're hoping to avoid). And they've offered to do all of the monitoring and blood work for one set price now that our insurance coverage for even the lab has conked out.

We were ecstatic. We are ecstatic. It's still going to cost a lot of money, but it takes so much of the pressure off to know that we might have the option of doing a second try if the first doesn't work.

(wh)eeew!

The bleeding has backed off into brown gunk. I know everyone was just waiting with bated breath, dying to find that out.

Here's the thing: backing off seems like a good thing.

Given the choice, I'd rather have it back off than become a full-on period.

But I am so superstitious I almost can't write it here. There is some part of my head that honestly believes -- fears -- that writing it down will jinx any good things that might be happening, and that now I will be bleeding like a stuck pig by noon. What it boils down to is this: I am my grandfather's granddaughter when it comes to superstition, and --

-- it's still too early to tell anything.

Update

JF called from work to say the official test this morning came back positive. (In the 70-somethings, I think she said.)

By itself, that doesn't tell us a lot -- we'll learn a lot more from Wednesday's test, because the big question now is whether that number is going up or not. But still, every test that doesn't come back negative is a good thing.