(Start with "Monday" if you can. I whined non-stop yesterday about having to change the clocks. If you start at the beginning and read the post at lightening speed, it will sound like you're being chased by thirty police cars with sirens blaring. Kinda cool. And if you agree... or not... either way... please subscribe to this blog for weekly updates, info, offers and more insanity.) So, what were we talking about? Oh right. That hour of sleep that I'll never be able to get back. Which brings to mind a lot of hours in my life that I wish I could have back. A lot of them are infertility-related. Anybody feel the same?
One infertility hour I'd like back is when I went for the IVF orientation. In hindsight I realize that we had already made up our minds to go ahead with IVF no matter what they told us... so why put ourselves through the mound of statistics piled up against us? Truthfully, it would have been better to not hear about it.
You know people always say: "Be informed...Read all the literature" Screw that. Ignorance is bliss. Just fill those prescriptions. Ask no questions and: Inject, inject, inject.
We sat at the end of the table at the orientation. It was a long conference table with about five other couples. I say "about" five other couples because I couldn't be sure with the three foot stacks of IVF literature on the table in front of us. At first I didn't understand that they wanted us to read it. I thought they needed some papers collated and figured they'd set them in front of us during the orientation, maybe a few of us would take the hint and they'd kill two birds with one stone.
It was a cramped room, maybe the supply closet, with beaming fluorescent lights. And I have cataracts in both eyes (not age-related by the way...I felt compelled to tell you that).
So here we are, for an hour, my husband and I, huddled in a large cramped elevator-of-a-room. Clearly somebody had pressed the down button...the very downest of down buttons... because we were dropped into the emotional basement...
And there we were left reading 20,000 pages of infertility "literature". For my cataracts and me, all cozied up in a 3 x 5 room with thirty fluorescent lights, it was like the very soothing sensation of reading with my head six inches from the sun.
It was like a late night Sci-Fi movie where I had to find a way to read all 20,000 pages and get out of there before the lenses of my eyes exploded.
Every page was jam-packed with happy statistics.
"If you're twenty, your chance of conceiving with IVF is 9%."
"If you're thirty, 6%"
"If you're Lori's age.....Don't be ridiculous."
"If you're an accountant your chance of conceiving with IVF is 1 in 10."
"A sales person.........1 in 12."
"A writer with a smart-ass blog.......1 in no-chance-in-hell"
There was a nurse conducting the orientation. Don't remember a word she said. Don't remember that I heard it at the time.
So, after that hour, my husband and I exited the building (I couldn't see a thing at this point. He was my German shepherd. He was only allowed in the building at all because he was a service husband) We mumbled dejectedly to each other, ourselves, and nobody in particular: "IVF will be a total waste of time...it will never work...we're so depressed...so what do you say we scrape together $15,000 and give it a go? Sure,why not? Let's go home, make some chocolate chip cookies and have a bake sale on the driveway."
All in all... I want my hour back!
Listen, I gotta go. I'm going to make a list of what I'm going to do with that hour when I get it back in the Spring (probably spend it trying to remember where I put the list in March.)
I'll talk with ya again tomorrow.