I thought my meeting with the Northeast clinic was Tuesday. Turns out it was Monday. This is another reason why I am glad I share a calendar with my Mom. She sent me a text message Monday morning essentially saying, “forgot the doctor’s appointment was today.” And because I was so not in the fertility clinic headspace I responded, “let me know how it goes when you are out.”

Because it made more sense to me that Mom would be seeing a doctor on Monday than me. Mom has been battling bronchitis for a few weeks now so naturally I simply assumed she was going in for a follow-up.

But no. It was me.

It caught me off guard and didn’t give me any time to properly panic about anything other than getting there on time. Oddly I think this might be the best thing for me, going forward. Make an appointment but somehow convince myself that said appointment is at a later date so when the alarm goes off on my phone to haul ass somewhere there is no room in the mind for over analyzing.

I’m shuffling my feet on this post a little bit because it was such a surreal experience and I am having a hard time finding the rock to grab to pull myself in. On the drive I told Mom that I needed to say out loud what I would consider a best case scenario and a worst case scenario. Worst case would be meeting the doctor and having him deem me unfit to try again, or finding out that the embryos had been thrown out by accident, or hearing that if I wanted to try I would need to start all over with reproductive testing.

None of that happened.

What happened was that I showed up thirty minutes early to my appointment and discovered a packed waiting room. I immediately wanted to cry not just at the memory of the room, but because now I was the asshole woman who was bringing a toddler to an appointment. We were the last person to be seen and the doctor was running behind so you can imagine how well-behaved W was at this point. (OH MY GOODNESS!)

at fertility clinic

Mother, W, and I went into the doctor’s office and waited. Funnily enough I never once met a doctor while I was a patient before at this clinic. He walked in with my thick file. Oh hello thick file. We said hello to the Doctor, he waved to us to sit, and he started flipping through my paperwork. Then he got to an e-mail that I had sent the clinic and he paused. He wanted to know if I got the answer to my question and he read the question to me, “should I continue taking progesterone?” He continued to ask if I had had a reaction to it and if so we could research something else. I asked him what the date was on the e-mail. December, 2007.

Oh. Right. So I had to explain that was when I was starting to miscarry and I didn’t know if I should continue with the suppositories or not.

The doctor got sort of flustered and upset and apologetic. My file was a mess. “Not your fault, not your fault!” But I guess that e-mail was supposed to be in the red file. So be it.

Then he simply says, “so why don’t we just do what we did last time? We do the estrogen, then we do the transfer, then we do the progesterone. Yes?” Yes, that is exactly what I want to do. He starts writing things down on post-its: I need to get an ultrasound, blood-work, cultures done, he wanted his labs to check my thyroid. And I am nodding my head thinking I will pick up my bag and make these appointments on the way out.

The Doctor stands up and hands me the stack of post-its and tells me I’m getting all of this workup right then. It’s after 7:00pm, people. (Oh and of course cycle day one. Woo!) But I got it all done, just like riding a horse. Or a bike. Or a transvaginal ultrasound wand.

I have no idea what this all means as far as a timeline for transfer. I know that I don’t have enough saved right now to cycle this month. But if there is a way to do a payment plan…I would be so ready.

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