Yesterday I emailed one of the local fertility centers which was mentioned somewhere as a good one to go for reproductive immunology issues. They have their first consultation free, which sounds just about right: we are in a tight money spot right now, and I would rather learn in advance what they can offer me, if anything. So I spent two days preparing my medical records and filling their extensive questionnaire, and getting more and more depressed by the minute.
What, realistically, anyone could probably offer me at this point? I honestly have no idea. I tried the anti-inflammatory protocol and failed. I tried Lethrozole and failed. Maybe some new twist on the first one could work. Maybe we could talk about the natural cycle IVF. Maybe it's just a matter of persistence and trying naturally, again and again. And hoping, hoping all the time.
Today, looking at the joyous faces and rainbow flags in the news, I remembered the famous Harvey Milk speech about hope. "You got to give them hope". At least someone didn't hope for nothing.
But me. Honestly, how do I even dare to hope. Me, with my 40th birthday just around the corner, with my shitty tests and 5 miscarriages, with first betas testing lower and lower every time? I know I need to stop obsessing about it, but when my Facebook feed brings new pregnancy announcements almost every day, I just can't. All those people getting their seconds, thirds, and fourths, but why not me? And my compilation of infertility blogs, which I made just few months ago, is full of happy reports, pregnancy complains, and ultrasound pictures. I am happy for everyone at these blogs, and I wish them all the best, I just want to be there myself as well. Hope is such a heavy burden.
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