Eating my own words.

When we were in the throes of the fresh part of this lastchance cycle, I remember looking at Mr. LC and saying: "Boy am I glad this is the last time to go to a retrieval."

When we nervously pressed play on our answering machine to hear our fertilization report, my hands were shaking. I said to him again: "Who does this to themselves? This is awful...all this waiting, all this nervousness. Never, ever again."

When we woke up the morning of the transfer and my phone rang with the familiar C.C.R.M. area code I freaked out and said to Mr. LC: "Never again. Who can put themselves through this kind of agony, this kind of waiting for the possible bad news?"

And now I'm eating my words.

I've been starving for four years and I finally had a taste of success. The tiniest sliver of nourishment, of sustenance, was offered to me and I greedily gobbled it right down.

And now I think, how do I get more of that? That tasted so incredibly good. That morsel made me the happiest I've been in my entire life. I've now been made even more aware of just how hungry I really really was, all those years.

Please, sir, can I have a little more?

But this was it. Our last chance. And so I have to think about those words, and try to capture the way I felt when I said them. I have to try to get to that place mentally--when I felt like I would soon be free from all of this ART nightmare.

Of course the inherent danger with saying anything grandiose is that you never can anticipate how you'll feel when you get to the next step. When you fail the next cycle.

And really, there isn't an option. I haven't suddenly gotten a raise and Mr. LC hasn't gotten discovered. Despite numerous national awards we're still in the hole on that venture. He doesn't even want to do it anymore, and who can blame him? I took a second job but it's to help pay off the lastchance IVF. I literally looked on the Discovery Health website to see how to pitch my story--because hey, who doesn't like to watch a train wreck? But apparently you have to have a producer pitch the story.

Any producers out there reading?
Two responsible, mature grown ups, sans any addictions (except maybe to cycling??) want desperately to be parents. The mister is a children's musician on the side (ironic!) and the missus can bake like the best of them. They've failed five in vitro cycles--wouldn't you like to follow them on a few more?

Oh wait--we'd just open ourselves up for all the abuse--how selfish! why not just adopt! there are so many needy kids out there so why spend resources to create your own! why do you want to be like octomom!

I'm just writing to stay alive.

PS We did not book our now MUCH NEEDED trip to NYC. It just got too expensive. Oh how hindsight is 20/20.