The Waiting Game

After my last entry, my doctor promised he'd be in touch the next day to give me a weight target. When we spoke, he told me it could be as little as 10 pounds, but it could be 35 or more, depending on how the head of the clinic decided.

This, again, was infuriating, but for no reason more than the fact that, if they needed me to lose another 30 pounds, after the struggle I've had to lose the 25 lbs I have lost, Chris and I knew that we might have to close the door on fertility treatments. 

And I didn't hear back from him. The birth control I'm on makes me exhausted, and gives me nightmares (more later), and I've been waiting. And waiting. And waiting.

They gave me 28 days of birth control, and when I realized I only had a few pills left, I started calling the clinic. It was at this point that a nurse told me that I'd have to lose at least 35 lbs for them to consider me for IVF. And I cried. I sobbed.

IVF wasn't in my plan for life. It's probably not on most people's dream boards. And when Round 4 failed, I went through a full mourning process, deciding that I could live without going through this.

But then when we decided we were going to do it, I started to get excited, and hopeful for the first time in years. This is heartbreaking. I thought I'd prepared for everything, but to have it all ripped from my grasp before we even had a chance is true anguish.

I've been on the phone all day with different members of the two clinics (one in Vancouver, one here in town), and I've gotten no movement whatsoever. Just to keep taking my birth control until I run out, wait a week, then start taking it again.

So, we wait.