Thursday, June 13, 2013

Failure, Periods and Planes

So my transfer experience seemed to be ideal up until the last days.  8 days past transfer, I walked into a Quest diagnostics lab to have my blood drawn in Florida.  I asked the lab tech if my doctor would get the results that day.  She said yes.

Uhm...yeah I didn't get those results until Tuesday, which was 11 days past transfer.  The lab left a message on my phone apologizing for the delay.  That was one call I wished I hadn't missed. I wanted curse until the cows came home.  Oh well.

I already knew the truth. Monday I took a home test and just like all of my previous home tests, it was negative before the pee could dry.  I emailed the RE to ask when my period would start.  That Broad convinced my husband that there was a high chance that the home test was wrong.  Excuse me!  I didn't know you needed a medical degree to read a home pregnancy test.  Sooo, my demands that he fly me back home fell on deaf ears.  I'm still angry with him about that. I was stuck in Florida at my best friend's house dealing with the fact that my body killed my twins, I'm $30,000 in debt and I'll probably never have friends again because they are all getting pregnant and we have nothing in common at this point.

I didn't want my Bestie and her Fiance to see me like that. I basically avoided her the rest of the trip.  Just looking at her made me cry.  It was horrible....torture really.

Anyway, Hubs and I went to lunch and I immediately ordered a margarita.  Do you know that a$$ had the nerve to try to stop me?  He begins a secret email conversation with the witch-doctor known as my RE, which leads to her calling me.  I didn't even answer. She is the only person from a blocked number who calls my phone.  I knew it was her and I handed the phone to him.

She asked him to put me on speaker and she went through her spiel. "Erika, this is the hardest part of my job."  I was thinking, "REALLY?! Why don't you try walking in my flip flops, Jerk!"

The rest of her speech sounded like this,  "blah blah...infertility science isn't perfect...blah blah...the good thing is you still have three frozen embryos ready to go home...blah blah...I think you need another HSG....I think your right tube may have fluid...blah blah...Erika, just keep showing up."

Whatever! I'm not showing up, People. I am out of money. I am more broke than I've ever been in my entire life.  Sometimes you have to know when to throw in the towel.  It's my time.  So, I'm mourning my twins.  It hurts.  It hurts to know I killed them.  Now, I'm just learning how to navigate knowing I'll never have kids.  I don't want to adopt and all of that other stuff, so it's cool.

So back to failure, periods and planes....

That jerk of an RE told me my period would start four to five days, after I stopped medication.  SHE WAS WRONG...AGAIN!  My period started exactly three days after I stopped medication.  That meant I was stuck on a plane with the worst cramps ever.  I popped eight advil on that plane, while my husband complained that I was going to make myself sick.  I rarely want to kill that man, but if I would have had a loaded weapon anytime from Monday to Wednesday, I would have shot him without blinking an eye.  I wouldn't have been on a plane with cramps, had he booked my emergency flight home on Monday, like I asked.

The drugs finally kicked in and I slept until we reached our layover.  That's where I found out why the pain was so bad, I was trying to pass a clot.  You can't really do that with a tampon rammed up your privates on a plane.  I took six more Advil and I've been fine since, minus a cramp here or there.

I was so pissed at the witch doctor that I sent her an email to let her know that she was WRONG about the start of my period.  That a$$ wrote back, and asked me to make an appointment for early next week.  I told her no because I am out of money and can no longer afford her.  She replied that she wouldn't charge for the visit.  I really must have dumb a$$ written on my forehead.  I've already been charged for the visit.  It's included in the FET.  It's the failure chat. Ugh!  I just don't want to see her in person because I'll probably end up in jail.  My Mother would be mortified.

I politely replied, "don't you have children to feed?  You don't need to do charity cases.  Take care."


  1. Is it me, or have you done something with your blog? Just kidding! Please don't shoot me!

    I'm so sorry again for your loss. For what it's worth, I really respect and appreciate your willingness to write honestly about how you're feeling!


    1. What changes are you talking about? Ha!
      Thank you for reading my rant.

  2. Sounds like you are firmly in the anger stage of the 5 stages of grief. I'm so sorry that you're feeling this way, and cramps to boot. IVF really is such a gamble and we don't all win.

    1. I know. Despite my anger, I'm glad I tried. I just wish I could have tried with someone else's money.

  3. I am so sorry to hear about your failed cycle and your jerkish doctor. You are so right, IVF is for suckers. The incurable hope, the pain, the heartache and you have to pay megabucks for that!

    Again, so sorry.

    1. Yes! That's what's so upsetting. I paid for that torture and if I had money, I'd keep paying, which is why IVF is for suckers.