A murky sense of clarity

I've come to the conclusion that I hate the "conference room". You know, the room in the RE's office with just the table, chairs and brochures about the various ways you're screwed? Shortly before the appointment, I realize I'm anxious about sitting in that room again. I haven't been in it since my initial consultation. You only have to meet in that room to talk with the doctor when things aren't going well. Nobody is brought in there to say, "Congrats! You're pregnant!" The air in the room is thick with other couples' hopes and disappointments.

Mr. Jaguar and I sat there, waiting for the doctor while I reread the poster about IVF that I had previously memorized at my first visit. Joe kept cracking jokes about how we were waiting for the doctor to wake up from his nap and get to his first appointment. After a bit, Dr. PacMan came in and started off by giving the Joe the story of a (fertile) woman's cycle since he wasn't there for the first visit. He drew the same diagram I got when I heard the lovely tale of a (fertile, i.e. not mine) reproductive system while I sat there with my list of questions and pencil poised, ready to get to the important stuff.

I jumped right into the topic of this persistent corpus luteum.

"We have no way of knowing if it was an early pregnancy or a persistent corpus luteum. It's impossible to know for sure which it was." Huh??? I had already nestled myself into this comfortable conviction that it was not a chemical pregnancy and now we're flip flopping through this air of uncertainty? Why? The only reason I can think of is that he was talking to the sobbing version of me last week and was trying to provide me with some sense of comfort. But the bottom line, after prodding and poking the PacMan, is that we don't know what it was and we won't know it was. That does not sit well with me at all.

We shift into the injectables conversation and the doctor goes over a typical injectables cycle. I ask a lot of questions about risks, especially with my PCOS. I made a lot of follicles on both Clomid cycles (about 20 on each side the first time, and well over 30 on each side the second time). He explains that I will be monitored closely to look out for ovarion hyperstimulation. I question him about the discomfort I had after my ultrasounds and was it connected to producing so many follicles? He thinks it was probably more from the pressure of the wand on my ovaries.

The conversation circles a few times around the increased risk of multiples until I finally ask the question that nags at me from the corner of my mind. With a multiples pregnancy, at what point do you suggest pregnancy reduction? Saying the words aloud makes my stomach hurt. His response is no different than what I've read, we always recommend that a high multiples pregnancy be reduced to twins. The words hang in the air until I pop them with a matter-of-fact okay. I know I'm thinking far ahead at what is only a possibility and not a certainty, but the idea makes me want to vomit.

So what's next? Well, that is up in the air. I just finished my progesterone last night and so I'm waiting for my period. The doctor's office is getting the ball rolling on my injectables cycle. Plan A is to go straight to injectables if my insurance approves everything quickly and my meds arrive. But if my period arrives quickly and the insurance company responds slowly, Plan B is to go into another Clomid cycle while we wait for everything to get set up for the injectables. I'm hoping for Plan B (and ironically, now wanting this cycle to last even longer), but was disappointed to see that I was spotting when I arrived home from the appointment.

Joe and I went to Target after the appointment to grab some stuff. On the drive, I was mostly quiet, digesting all the information from the appointment. I was thinking about how I didn't really learn anything new at the appointment, like I just confirmed a lot of stuff that I've already read. That sort of bugged me because I felt like I wanted to get more out of the appointment. As we walked into the store, the first person we lay eyes on is a very pregnant customer. As I walk by, another woman is loudly saying to her, "You'll see when you become a mom...." Under my breath, I say, "Are you f*ckin' kidding me?" My husband says, "What?" My response, "Nothing." Then we turn the corner to go up the main aisle and the first thing we see is another very pregnant woman. My husband looks at me and bursts out laughing which sets me off laughing. Life is ridiculous sometimes. It was a nice moment. I felt very connected to my husband, like he got it.

I came home and looked over my packet of injectables information, reading aloud different portions of it to our summer roommate, Andy, who now knows more than he probably cares to about my vagina. "25% chance of twins..." Wait, what?! I had read it was 20%! Does it matter much? Yes. That's a 1 in 4 chance of multiples instead of 1 in 5. That's one less singleton marble to choose from in my little bag of pregnancy possibilities. Hmmmmm....

Later, I went out in the yard to think. I laid in the hammock, staring up into the tree branches, pondering all of today's developments and talking to God about this chemical pregnancy versus persistent corpus luteum business. And I came to the conclusion that I believe it was a persistent corpus luteum. I have no science to tell me one way or the other, but this one was decided between me and God.