The Final Step

In a vastly fertile family, it seems kind of freakish that I will be moving onto IVF.  David and I had big talks about it and while he has more fear than I do about the entire thing.  I want it to be over one way or the other.  I am tired of every month, every plan, every season being about me 'maybe' being pregnant.  Plus the drugs make me fat.  I really dislike being fat.  I have managed to gain 20 lbs of fat since I started the drugs and not one bit of it can be contributed to pregnancy.  It's actually non-pregnancy fat.  Not cute and charming like pregnancy fat, which can be easily overlooked when you have a cooing, gorgeous newborn to distract those intruding eyes.

So the papers came in the mail today.  The legal forms required to procreate.  I remember when getting pregnant meant having a few too many beers and praying feverishly for your period and avoiding the pregnancy test until you were about ten days late.  We have to have STD tests; AIDS and Hep B and C and small pox and even syphillis and chicken pox.  Yes I know the 'pox' are not STDs but they are still on the list.  Nobody wants to create a baby from impure ingredients I guess. 

And I get to have another FSH test.  It was a year ago this month when I had my first one.  I wonder if all my 'good eggs' have been wasted on the useless IUI cycles we did (mostly uninseminated - is that a word, un-inseminated?)  I mean, did I have like... 30 good eggs left and they are gone?  Can my FSH really raise in 12 months...? 

This thing is going to a whole new level and while my hopes are raised, I am all too aware that the height from which I might fall is raised as well.