Off With His Head!

Well, it would seem that my Inner Drama Queen likes it here in la-la-land and has once again appeared. Maybe it's a Tuesday thing. Maybe it's just that time of year. Or, maybe I'm genuinely losing it and she's taking over a la Jekyll and Hyde.

Suffice it to say that I have found myself wanting to yell, "Off with his head!" several times today. Honestly, no one really deserved it, but She Who Must Be Obeyed doesn't understand the niceties of society that there are in fact very few offenses that would warrant that. (In reality, I'm a staunch death penalty opponent, but she didn't get that message.)

All of this peevishness (I love that word) arises out of our meeting with Dr. Uterus. Surprisingly, very little had to do with the technical details that we discussed. He confirmed our suspicions that it was just again Stroke of Bad Luck, which while eminently unsatisfactory in terms of a concrete answer, is probably the best that we are going to get. We talked about doing pregenetic implantation diagnosis (PGD) on our totscicles and he was quite honest that they have never attempted it on frozen ones, although it wouldn't be out of the realm of possibility. He also recommended against doing it since it is so untested in frozen ones, which made sense. We talked about what further testing we can do (none) and the protocol for an FET cycle.

The thing is, it was just being in his office that had already started to set me on edge. Our last visit when we were told that our second baby in a row had died is apparently still very fresh emotionally. It all started to come back before we even saw him. I was also annoyed by the poster in the room with the picture of twin babies with the glowing ad copy gushing about how in a few months a couple he helped were preparing for twins! Dear God that was discouraging. He's been helping me for almost TWO FREAKIN' YEARS and I have twins all right! Twin miscarriages!

Now, lest you get the impression that I blame Dr. Uterus, I don't. I know it's not his fault, it's not Dr. Freak Out's fault, it's not even our fault. I know that he's doing everything within his power to help us. I don't deny that or under appreciate that for a second. Our history can really be chalked up to random bad luck. I also know that with those posters he's doing what everyone in America does - he's selling something. But, I found it so offensive today considering that I have done everything that is asked of me and I still have nothing to show for it and his advertisements make it sound so easy, so quick, so simple, so without pain.

The discussion of the FET protocol also annoyed me. He prefers to do a mock cycle first - with an endometrial biopsy for your parting gift at the end! - before doing the actual FET. I did the quick calculations and of course figured out that we're talking about two months - one month in which I have no hope of getting pregnant just to see if my uterus can be tricked into thinking its time for pregnancy and then one month in which the frozen totscicles are thawed and transferred. The thing is, once I decide to get started again, I don't want to go through a mock month. It's a wasted month (even though yes I understand that it is necessary)!

Being the inquisitive little one that I am, I also asked what the mock cycle entailed as far as drugs and monitoring. The good news? No monitoring. The bad news? I would have to shoot myself in the ass again with the goddamn progesterone. WTF!? And this is just during the mock cycle! I would have to do it during the FET and during the 2WW! This really pissed me off. I have no problem doing it when I know that it will help with a possible pregnancy, but I really resent having to do it for a mock cycle. It's like what else is required of me? Walking on hot coals? Climbing Mt. Everest? Finding the cure to cancer?

But, even this was not enough to rouse my Inner DQ to her full fury - and what did rouse her will probably appear to you to be the most inocuous thing. While we were getting ready to leave, Dr. Uterus stated that I have taken on a new position in his practice. I am now the patient who has such rotten luck and bad outcomes that I am next in line for the divine miracle, the run of better luck, whatever. His patient who used to occupy this throne is now 9-weeks pregnant with a "beautiful baby" and his pride and thrill was evident. It was like a sucker punch to me. I know that it was meant as a story of hope - see if she can do it, so can you! - but it just came across to me as this mockery of all that I've been through. I had a pregnancy that he declared beautiful and then it went horribly wrong. To me, it was like going through it all over again.

I know that's not how it was intended and I didn't tell him what I thought. I know he genuinely thought it would make me feel better. I'm just one of those people who those kinds of stories don't. I did share with Sweetie, though, hoping that he would understand, would give me some comfort. Nope. He got frustrated with me and accused me of being envious. (Envy is now a four-letter-word in our household). I agreed with him. I am envious and I don't like that I am, but I am. I feel it and get over it. But, when I looked for comfort and validation, he instead chided me like I was a 5-year old. It ain't easy being green.

Sorry for the length (and the whining and the peevishness), but rarely is a long story made short. Sweetie is going out of town tomorrow and I am grateful for the time to myself to reign in the Queen so that she can't go all half-assed crazy.