The follow up.

I did, in fact, have a good weekend. Shopping was frenzied but managed to remain fairly fun. We literally shopped until we dropped and managed to accomplish a lot. I despise shopping just to 'get it done' or picking a gift just to cross them off your list--I like looking for the right gift. We then went home and wrapped up everything in a flurry of tissue paper and tape and ribbon. I love making packages look special. Yesterday we finally finished Madmen. It rocks. The only thing I didn't do: bake. Boo.

It turns out my Dad was actually septic. I know. The poor man. It seems that neither of us can catch a break. I tell you, if I follow in his footsteps genetically well, oh boy. Marathon runner, non-smoker, never overweight, etc.--wound up with quadruple bypass and a stroke. So um, why am I fighting to pass these genetics on? At any rate, his current infection is steadily improving.


So...Thursday night I had a little diddy known as the WTF call. Well, I wouldn't really call ours that anymore. I've been through too many of these 'after the IVF BFN' calls to feel like they're truly WTF? I did want to speak with my doctor and get her medical opinion on things. Of course she knew it was our last try and kept saying over and over how sad it was to get a chemical pregnancy. Tell me something I don't know! She said at least we knew at least one embryo made it to blast, differentiated, hatched, and implanted. My uterine lining was receptive to implantation. All good things, but all not enough, obviously. She was neutral on any future recommendations other than to definitely NOT go out and get a uterine ablation...just in case. I cried on the phone, which I didn't want to do. But when your doctor says things like "It's just not fair and I just don't understand why this is happening to you and Mr. LC" and shows some real human compassion well, it's hard not to just start blubbering. And then in the freakiest moment, she asked if I'd ever considered writing my story because she thinks it could serve as something meaningful to a lot of people. Maybe they found me?

I also used that time to heartily complain about some of the nursing issues they have.

Here's a confession: I always thought that if I was successful with ART I'd think about a field change into reproductive endocrinology. I've been through it, and I just feel like I could connect with patients in a way that would be meaningful. But not anymore. While I could be empathetic, who would want a provider who'd had five failed IVFs? That would freak most anyone out.

Not to mention I'd probably be envious of someone just starting out their journey. For example, one of my coworkers is 38, just starting TTC, and is only on the clomid phase. While I'm not envious of her age (and I am NOT saying 38 is old--in many many ways age is not the biggest factor regarding success or not) or the fact that she's possibly introducing IF into a very young marriage, I'm strangely jealous of the fact that she has the whole world of ART stretched out before her, just waiting to swoop in and fix her.

So here I am. Still hurting. Not going to change careers. At the end of the road of ART.

Right now, it's just enough to make s'mores with good friends, hold hands with Mr. LC, and cuddle up with a good book and furbaby.

It's enough because it has to be enough.