After 9 months of fertility and medical testing, then 8 months of active fertility treatments, and an empty wallet & uterus, I was at my breaking point. It was clearly demonstrated by my constant sobbing for over a week without even knowing if the latest transfer worked. Our RE essentially told us that we (me!) had to go see the in-house psych doc before starting us on another cycle.
After finding out the bad news yesterday that our FET didn’t work, I was actually feeling a lot better. Not knowing if it was going to be bad news yet again was the worst part. Dan and I got ready to head into see the doc. I really just wanted to wear pjs and not shower… but assuming he would be reading into every aspect of the visit, I dragged by butt up and into the shower. Trust me… this was an accomplishment.
At the age of 19, I was diagnosed with depression, which was later diagnosed as chronic depression. This meant that I stay on anti-depressants all the time, forever. Up until now, I had never had any issues- my mood was great, my appetite better than good, I loved taking part in activities and keeping up with friends.
In the last couple months, I had slowly been transformed back into the me that I didn’t want to remember. The me where I would much rather curl up in bed and never leave. The me where some small miniscule thing not going perfect was enough to derail me completely. Let me paint a picture of how my thought process worked. I use the simplest of simple of examples: Stubbing my toe. Now stubbing my toe on a normal, non-fertility time in my life would simply hurt. Now, there might be a chance of a foot hop with a not so proper swear word, but that would be it.
Stubbing my toe while depressed: Stubbing my toe would turn into me being pissed because I ruined my pedicure… which would make me so upset because the money we were spending on fertility meant that I couldn’t actually get a pedicure… which would make me devastated because I would start counting the money we have spent and focus on the absolutely nothing we had to show for it but bad memories and wasted time… which would devastate me because I would think about all of the physical and mental pain going through fertility cycles… which would push me over the edge because I’m not pregnant and would need to do another cycle to try again…. which was hopeless because with these cycles even the simplest things didn’t go as planned…. oh not going to plan, that pretty much sums up everything that is going on with my life. Cue me sobbing uncontrollably and staying in bed inconsolable for hours on end…. especially when Dan wasn’t as upset as me. Doesn’t he get that our lives are ruined and never going to get any better?
You get the point… not pretty.
Well off we go to the psych appointment at the fertility clinic. I had heard good things about the doctor, however, I wasn’t exactly sure how this was going to work. I had been to my share of doctors re: depression, however, what did it mean to go to a doctor re: depression when I was already on anti-depressants?
We got called into the back room with this little old man. He introduced himself and said he’d had an opportunity to talk to our RE regarding our unusually difficult cycles. He sat us down and started to ask questions. Me, being me, basically got right down to it. I told him I know exactly what was wrong. He stopped and asked me to explain.
I told him I’m a Type-A personality. I love plans. In fact, I take extreme pleasure in making to-do lists and short and long term plans. Oh, and I generally get what I want. I work my ass off and make sure that my plan works out. I’m dedicated, passionate, hard working, and love having control. That would be the issue. I have zero control of fertility. Nothing is working how it is supposed to. The nice little 28-day cycle diagrams on the walls in the clinic didn’t mean anything to me as by day 28, I’d just be getting into the swing of things- not finding out if the cycle was successful or not. Worse yet, the doctors didn’t even have control! They had no ideas about what was going on and why I didn’t react to the drugs.
So take a control freak and put them in an incredibly stressful situation where they have no control, at all. That equaled me. An emotionally devastated 26 year old woman who could think of nothing else but the feel of an empty uterus.
The doc smiled and we chatted about life- how and where I grew up, school, work, our marriage. You name it, it was on the list. At the end of the session he basically said what we already knew- we had a great and supportive marriage, great relationships with family and friends plus lots of support. However, I wasn’t dealing well with not having control. He suggested that I already seemed to have recovered well from what our RE had described my emotional state yesterday, and he gave us the go-ahead to move on with a new cycle when we felt we were ready. This time, however, we’d have to go back and continue to chat with him.
Sounded easy enough to me. We walked out of the room and through the fertility halls. I turned to Dan and said, let’s do this. He wasn’t sure what I meant… I walked up to the IVF nurse and asked her what day I could start another FET cycle. We had two embryos left. My plan consisted of us getting pregnant ASAP and get this part of our lives over with. I wasn’t going to wait. I didn’t have control about much in this process, however I could have control over my start times.
The good news here was that because my body is so messed, I don’t have cycles. Because I don’t have cycles, I do random starts. So against Dan questioning me if I was ready, I booked my first monitoring appointment to get this show on the road.
Failed cycles behind me, and a new Frozen Embryo Transfer to come. I’m getting pregnant damn it. :S