So that (see below) was
where we were in late June. Now, 4.5 months later, things are in a different
place. Not less stressful (does that even happen?) just… different.
Another doctor in a
neighboring state agreed to help us. He said our plans seemed “pretty
straightforward.” We agreed. He appreciated how “down to earth” we were. Well…
we try, we said. So he got us an embryo and that was a whole big thing with
genetic testing and paperwork and interviews and ALL the money. Sometimes they
dropped a ball & I had to get a bit… firm, but by the time September rolled
around, we had 4 lovely frozen kid-sicles.
Around the same time, we
got the lawyer to finalize the surrogacy contract with our friend and man… Basically it’s a super complicated document where we agree on every possible
hypothetical scenario. After proofing the 3rd version, my
optometrist’s predictions of reading glasses in the near future started to make
some sense. Sometimes they dropped a ball & I had to get a bit… firm, but
it’s done. Finally.
The lawyer WAS very
helpful at explaining that, despite the fact that our friend and the kid-sicles
live in said neighboring state, OUR state is much friendlier to surrogacy.
Better to start & finish the pregnancy in our state. So we found a
fertility clinic as close to the state line as possible. That too was also a
whole big thing with psych testing and paperwork and interviews and all the
REST of the money. Sometimes they dropped a ball & I had to get a bit…
firm, but we cleared all their hoops and said they’d work with us.
(Are you sensing a theme?
Pick up phone, yell, then send all the money.)
In fact, there have been
so many “whole big things” that I probably need to buy more memory for my
computer to hold all this paperwork. Just having the embryos shipped from one state
to the other was whole big thing (and the shipper would appreciate a pile of
money too, thankyouverymuch). All I’m saying is thank god for the Xerox scan/fax/copier
at my office. And, needless to say, each step just ate up week after week until now
- here we are in early November.
And now my friend is now
going through the first transplant cycle. Embryo transfer right after
Thanksgiving means pregnancy test right before Christmas. Happy Holidays….?!???
If this doesn’t work, we theoretically have 3 more tries – unless one of the
embryos doesn’t defrost well (WTF, BTW? Can they get freezer burn or
something?) So I assume by June we’ll either be done or be expecting.
The probability
calculations are the stuff of an AP course. If four, mutually exclusive events
have a 33% probability of producing a live birth correcting for the likelihood
that those statistics are probably off since we’re using high quality
embryos and a fertile surrogate, the probability that we’ll have a baby by 2015
is… oh hell, just flip a coin.
Also, it’s not such an
easy thing to say, “we’ll keep trying ‘til we’re out of embryos.” It’s MIND-BLOWING
how expensive it is to do each transplant. Since there’s no “medical necessity”
for surrogacy or adoption (I guess insurance companies will only pay for you to
pointlessly keep banging away despite confirmed sterility) this is all
out-of-pocket. And last I checked, I didn’t change pants with King Midas. My
pockets contain quarters. And thus, we’re using part of my inheritance. It has
the indescribable quality of making logical sense and feeling icky every time
you have to ask daddy to pay for progesterone for your BFF.
Well, bed made. Now lying
in it.
I worry about this
transplant not working. A lot. We’ve tried to control for every possible
disaster but when biology gets involved, all bets are off. Despite my friend’s
incredible gift of her body to carry this baby, there are no assurances the
embryos will take. And if it does take, there’s no assurances they’ll hold. Her
life is just as chaotic as the next person’s (truth be told – her life is a bit
MORE chaotic than average – probably not surprising when a person’s willing to
donate her organs for others’ use) and so, in some respects, she’s the only
variable we didn’t control. We could’ve gone out and hired a younger, less
busy, more ‘yoga-minded’ lady to carry this baby but we didn’t – my friend just volunteered. And it HAS made it easier to be doing this with her. Our long and
deep friendship seems to allay all the clinics’ concerns that we’re secretly
running a black-market baby-baking ring. But some days it has also made it harder.
When her life gets chaotic & I worry she’s too maxed out to jump through
all these hoops, I can’t pick up the phone and get “firm” with her. She’s my
best friend who’s giving me a massive gift. If I get scared, I can’t talk to my
best friend about all the ‘what-if’s’ because she IS all the ‘what-if’s.’
And while I’m getting all
these thoughts out on paper, there’s one other terrible, horrible thing I
should just say. Once again, it’s all kind of… a hidden struggle. My husband and
I are the ones who are affected here: the ones that found out we couldn’t have
a kid while dealing with other major health crises, the ones who have spent the
last half year navigating the ups and downs of this crazy world of infertility interventions.
It’s been, well, hard. But like struggles with mental illness, you’re not
supposed to talk about it. (I don’t know WHY. Maybe it has something to do with
the tacit recognition that penises exist?) And if (please, please, please) this
works, I won’t complain. Promise. But I will not LIKE it that everyone else
involved will be the hero of the story: the friend who selflessly donated her
body to carry the baby, the parents who reached into their bank accounts to
fund this crazy journey, the doctors who used their massive brains to help the
poor, poor, couple who couldn’t help themselves.
Except we did. We are.
We’re the ones who are trying. And we will never get to talk to anyone (besides
this anonymous page) about the enormous amount of courage this has taken every day.
