A Jealous Rage

I don't think anyone can accuse me of pretty-ing up our experience with IF; if you were to look back through the archives, I think I've been pretty honest about the ways in which IF has affected us. I'm not going to deny that there has been growth and development during the last more than 4 years, but I wouldn't remotely go so far as to say that it has strengthened me or improved my relationship to God. I think it has strengthened our marriage and forced us to improve our ability to communicate and to adapt to changing circumstances. I can honestly say that I don't like how infertility has changed me; pre-IF I was much more open and extroverted; I was less defensive, less angry. My self-confidence, which was never good, has been battered and abused even more than it was when I was an adolescent. 

Yesterday was particularly ugly. I am physically, emotionally, and spiritually drained. Between work, being on the search committee for a new director of music ministry, trying to prepare to work with PPVI, adoption stuff, and general household stuff, I haven't been getting enough sleep or down time. There is always too much to do, too much to think, to worry about. Friday, after an appointment with the counselor I've been working with for the last couple of months (more on that later - really!), I stopped at 3 different labs/outpatient diagnostic centers trying to find one that is willing to do the blood draws, centrifuge and separate the blood, and either ship it to PPVI or give it to me to ship. Each stop took 15 minutes or more as I tried earnestly to explain why I needed to have this done, hoping someone would be willing to do it. Before I got out of the car at the first location, I asked "God, if You want me to do this, please make this easy." If we couldn't find somewhere withing reasonable distance, we were considering dropping the plans to work with PPVI. At the third place I stopped, I found a phlebotomist willing to slightly bend the rules (they aren't supposed to centrifuge samples that they aren't going to test) if I could get a kit with all the tubes needed (and something to hold them for transport). This meant another call to PPVI; after our early experiences calling them, I wasn't looking forward to it. (That first phone call from the receptionist asking who I was did not leave me with a very good impression.)

Yesterday I got the call back; they do have a kit they will send. Between my original call and their return call, I had come up with another question: how do I handle a post-peak phase shorter than 11 days? The slip for blood works requests draws on P+3, 5, 7, 9, and 11; last cycle my post peak phase was only 6 days. This cycle I'm on P+8, though I started spotting by P+5. The phrasing was odd, but the intent was clear: "Just do the best you can." (Because I have so much control over the length of my post-peak phase. [Sorry for the sarcasm.]) You would think that I would have been cheered and encouraged by the existence of a kit, and PPVI's relatively quick response. Instead I was hurt and angry. I don't want to go through all this. I don't want to have surgery again. I can't begin to guess what they will have to offer me - higher doses of Clomid, injectables? Given the blood clot scare that I had on 75 mg of Clomid, neither Husbandido nor I are eager for me to go on anything stronger; we have real concerns about whether it would be safe. But I don't want to have super short cycles where I'm bleeding for half the days or more. I don't want to have niggling doubts about whether I'm facing premature menopause or something worse. (Though I have occasionally thought that it wouldn't be that bad to have uterine cancer; it would be a legitimate reason to have a hysterectomy, and there couldn't be any second-guessing that decision.) 

Depending on quite how the individual/family deductibles and coinsurances work, we could be out over $10,000 just for the diagnostic work that PPVI wants. They're out of network, which complicates and makes everything more expensive. Is it worth it? We won't know the cost until afterwards, and we can't know what they could offer us. We're trying to make a decision when all the information needed to make a good decision is unknowable. To say that I hate that, and it's driving me crazy would be an understatement. I'm feeling pressured to make a final decision; once we get the call from the scheduler and schedule surgery, there is a $275 fee to cancel or reschedule. Compared to the cost of the blood work/ultrasound series/surgery, that's peanuts, but in our general budget, it's significant. 

Yesterday afternoon it just all came to a head; I was bitchy; I was whiny; I was miserable. Husbandido didn't seem to want to listen to me; my mother didn't want to listen to me; I didn't want to listen to me! What thoughts were going round and round in an endless circle? "Why does God hate me so much? How is it that my body is so uniquely screwed up? I can't think of anyone else my age who has had this many surgeries already; this next one will be 6. Six! So-and-so can have a baby. As can so-and-so. And so-and-so has has 2, or is it 3, and is pregnant again and wasn't even thrilled this time. (Names omitted to protect the innocent, but these are real women who have experienced IF.) Why does God hate me so? I'm trying so hard, all this work for the church. Does He just like to torture me?" Mercy? Grace? Love? I could see none of it, lost totally in a jealous rage. Though today has been better, I'm still angry and still jealous. I still don't know why God hates me.