Medically, everything went fine. Cyst is no biggie, I’ll be on Lupron before the next IVF anyway and it cleared them up last time. Dr. RE wanted to go over my labs and make sure I understood the 10 pages of autoimmune and clotting disorder information I now have on myself. I kept thinking about a woman I work with who’s 36, had a stroke when she was 32. She had to learn to talk all over again, really a bad one. She wanted a baby – she got pregnant, had the boy 2 months ago. Had to take lovenox shots all throughout and I remember thinking, Jesus – at least I don’t have to worry about THAT.


I should remember that God has a sense of humor. Sick sometimes, but it’s there.

Then things started to go a bit downhill. I asked questions about estimated time to cycle, the donor coordinator came in and told me what she could. The donor’s undergoing retrieval in the next couple of days, she’ll call and let me know how she does. My clinic only allows donors to be used 3 times. We’re the third couple to get her, so after us she’ll be cut loose. The coordinator said when she’d told the donor another couple was interested in using her, she sounded less than enthused. Hesitant, I believe was the word. Apparently, she’s moved and it’s not as convenient for her to get to the clinic as it once was. The coordinator was under the impression that it might be a temporary situation, that we “may have to work with her a bit” but she’d give us an answer within a week. So, instead of Sept/Oct, it’ll be more like Nov/Dec.

I’d thought everything was settled. It suddenly occurred to me that the donor could pull out at any time. She could decide to chuck it all 5 days before retrieval. That’s actually the only front where we haven’t had a problem yet, so I firmly believe it will happen. We’re gonna get screwed. The more I thought about it, the more my vision started to close in and get that red tint around the edges.

<BEWARE: here’s where the venomous ranting begins>

I understand where she’s coming from, I understand how difficult it is for the donors. I know that the shots are uncomfortable, the ultrasounds are inconvenient and the disruption to their lives can be substantial. I’ve done all that myself (3 times, thank you) – I certainly wouldn’t have bothered anyone else if I could have helped it. But she signed up for this, goddammit. I didn’t. I’m feeling very selfish and mean and itchy and angry. And bitter, if we’re being honest. And frightened, and so very, very sad. And powerless. Because every inch of this is beyond my control, and I’m very tired of being reminded of that fact. My frontal lobes understand that it is entirely her decision, her choice. The reptilian side of me wants to slap her.

Let’s see…. treadmill vs Chik-fil-a. No contest. Anyone else want a brownie since I’m going?