The $600 Question October 31, 2009
Oh, we try very hard to poke our heads in the sand, but every now and then something makes us pop them right up. We got our sperm storage fee statement in the mail today.
We have one lone vial left in storage. Our bill came accompanied by a form to fill out and have notarized if we would prefer to have our sperm destroyed. Somehow we managed to avoid having a bill sent last year, so this year we got a double bill for $600. Well, that $600 question may as well be a million dollar question, because we have no idea what to do at this point.
Wasn’t your last post all about trying to come to terms with the fact that Adam will end up being an only child, you ask? Yep, it sure was. The thing is, though, that that post got Dan and me talking. We see the value in adding to our family, and I think it’s something we’d both want if the great Infertility wasn’t on the table, but that’s the hand we were dealt.
There are days when I think about how great it would be for Adam to have a sibling. I watch the family across the street playing in their front yard, the sister tickling the brother. I think about holding a newborn again, a tiny precious thing, getting to start this whole fascinating process all over again.
But then there are hard days when I don’t know how on earth I would be able to take care of another child. Adam is challenging. He’s beyond amazing, but it takes all of my energy to make it to bedtime most days.
So, I guess we’re at a crossroads. Is there even any point to contemplating using our own genes again if a time does come where we decide to try again? Would it make more sense to just choose another path from the get go?
I think about how it took 7 cycles with a total of 21 embryos transferred to get Adam, and I know I’m crazy to even think about paying the $600. We have one vile left. That’s one cycle’s worth. The odds are dismal.
But then I think about how I got pregnant all three times that I cycled with my second clinic. They’re good there. But then again, only one pregnancy took.
And then I think about how I know Dan is not going to go through another surgery. The sperm that was retrieved the first time (second surgery) is all that we’ve got.
I guess even the fact that I’m mulling this over means that I don’t consider the door fully closed. In all honestly, half of me wants to sign the form and close the door for good while the other half wants to call my RE up and make an appointment to start a cycle with our lone vial ASAP. Is it worth $600 to not have to figure it out right now? Probably.
The End? A New Beginning? You Got Me. October 8, 2009
Sometimes I wonder if I should just shut this thing down. Should I delete it? Leave it up? What? And then I read a post like this, a post that resonates with me, and I finally come back to type.
I don’t know where to pick up really. It’s been too long. But I’ll try.
We just took a trip to spend a long weekend with my brother, sister-in-law, and their daughter, Adam’s only cousin. Every time I’m with them I feel the ping. Their daughter is 11 months old. It’s the ping of watching a little one, watching Adam interact with a little one. The ping of knowing that it’s the road not taken for us.
Before the ugly infertility monster decided to take a few good swings at us, we’d always thought we’d have 2 or 3 kids. Well, that was the fantasy. We all know how the reality turned out. 7 IVF/FET cycles=1 live birth.
That path led us to Adam, though. So, despite the ping, I’m ok with it. It’s been a process to become truly ok with it. But I think I’m there.
I see siblings playing together. I see pregnant bellies at all of our toddler activity classes. I know what’s it’s like to be able to have a sibling as an adult. But they don’t scream as loudly to me now. Oh yes, they still whisper, but they don’t scream.
It wasn’t an instantaneous process to accept that Dan has azoospermia and that our only hope of conceiving a child would be through IVF. It most certainly wasn’t an instantaneous process to accept that even if we signed check after check and I shot up drug after drug that we may or may not get a real live baby out of the deal. So, it’s not surprising that accepting that our family may not have turned out as I originally pictured has taken (is taking) some time.
Like I said, I think I’m mostly there. I know we’re a family of three. Period. And while I’ve never made an official proclamation before, our infertility journey has been over for quite some time.
So, where do I go from here? Am I going to try to figure my way through parenting via this blog? Am I going to neglect it as badly as I’ve done in the recent past? Your guess is as good as mine.
Writing about infertility was more urgent, and more interesting, too, I’m sure. I don’t have the same kind of pain or struggle now. It makes for a more pleasant life but a more boring blog.
Hmm, I wonder what the heck I’m going to do with this thing?