Getting My Big Girl Panties Out of the Dryer

My friend Aimee is one of the most laid back people I know. Although she doesn’t smoke pot, she always seems like she’s on pot, which may not be a bad way to be. I was catching up with her recently and she was telling me about how her car was stolen. What amazed me was she said it as if she was casually telling me about a dentist appointment. She said, “Yeah…” while flipping her hair over her shoulder, “So the car’s gone. It’s a drag but what can you do. Wanna grab lunch?”

Let me just point out that if MY car were stolen, you’d hear about me on the news. I’d be freaking out and telling anyone and everyone who’d listen. I’d lament for hours about how much money it was going to cost me, how I don’t even know what kind of car to buy and I’d have a dramatic, emotional monologue memorized about how the universe hates me. The phrase, “It’s a drag but what can you do” would never be included anywhere in this monologue.

That being said, I really do marvel and admire her attitude and I think I need to start using the word “drag” more in my vocabulary. The word “drag” (other than when it’s used in a RuPaul context) seems to imply that it’s a bummer but it’s not the end of the world. There’s also something momentary about the word “drag”. If something is a drag, it seems like it’ll only last for a day and not for an eternity. No one will ever say “Eternity is a drag.”

Last Friday, I met with the clinic to discuss participation in the clinical trial. We’re still not officially in but we had to go over the details in order to see if we qualify. My husband and I sat in a room that looked like a law library and read long, boring intricate documents about what the trial entails; the rules, requirements and procedures. As my husband and I initialed each page to confirm we not only read it but that we stayed awake while reading it, I started to get depressed. I turned to Sam and said, “This is so sad. Some people just have sex. We have to sit here and go through paperwork about risks, injections and follicles.”

He said, “Just remember – if we weren’t doing this trial, we’d be doing all of this anyway, but it would be costing us thousands of dollars.”. It was a very good point.

The paperwork for the trial read like a fertility-like board game:

• You must have three decent sized follicles by day eight or you’re out of the trial.
• You can’t have more than thirty follicles by day eight or you’re out of the trial.
• You must not take any medication other than what we give you, or you’re out of the trial.
• If you can’t come to our office 10 – 26 times during the trial, you’re out of the trial.
• If you show any signs of enjoying the trial, then you’re out of the trial.

Some of these things, I can control but some of it, I can’t. If I had it my way, I’d control pretty much everything in the world but obviously, that’s not going to happen. Not unless I get that magic wand I’ve been wanting since I was five years old. Where do they sell that wand anyway????

Even though the whole paperwork experience was… well… a drag, I did enjoy the woman who went over everything with us. She happens to have the same name as a famous actress but obviously, I don’t want to use her real name here. For the sake of this blog though, we’ll call her Drew Barrymore. Who doesn’t love Drew Barrymore?

Drew Barrymore explained what drug we’d be trying (if we get in), how it works, that it’s already legal in Europe (I feel like I’m actually trendy for once in my life) and that whether we’re in the regular group or the test group, any of the injections WILL work… so it won’t be a wasted cycle.

I’ve lost the two pounds required to be in the trial but being that two pounds still is a little too close for comfort, I’m desperately trying to lose four more pounds. My official weigh in date will be the same day I have to give blood: Cycle Day 2 of my next period. After that, we should get the final word on whether or not we’re accepted. It sucks that they are going to weigh me when I’m my most bloated but it is what it is. I am warning everyone in the room though that if I get naked to weigh as little as possible, they should not A) be surprised or B) take any photos.

They did some preliminary blood work on me and we set up an orientation class for the 18th. Sam was also asked to come in to give a sperm analysis. This led to a slightly awkward conversation. Drew Barrymore was holding her clipboard when she said to him, “If you’re coming in for the class on the 18th, you can do the sperm analysis then! That’ll work out nicely!”

Sam looked at her for a minute. You could tell he was trying to figure out how to phrase what he wanted to say. He cleared his throat and said, “Um, well, actually… it’s my birthday the weekend before and we’re going away and um… well… I want to enjoy myself.”

Drew Barrymore stared blankly like he was an abstract painting.

Sam repeated his statement as if he was talking to someone who was either deaf or who didn’t speak English, “You knooooow. ENJOY. MYSELF.”

She suddenly got it. “Ahhhh! I see. Well, then just schedule a time later that week. Have fun!!!”

Yesterday, Drew Barrymore called me at work to confirm that the doctor signed off on all of our paperwork. She also added, “And you’re going away this weekend, riiiiiggght? Well, enjoy! And you never know! Maybe you’ll get pregnant!”

I love that thanks to Sam’s comments, Drew Barrymore now immediately associates our weekend away with a total f*ck fest when I honestly think Sam just wanted to at least have the option. Mind you – if this weekend DOES turn into a f*ck fest, I will not necessarily be complaining. I’m just sayin.

In terms of this weekend resulting in a pregnancy however, I’d be downright shocked. I’ve already ovulated this week and in the almost two years I’ve been trying to get pregnant, it’s never happened. I can’t see it finally coming through for us this weekend when I plan to be drunk and in a Jacuzzi as often as possible. No really, I put it on my day planner: January 14th – January 18th: Drunk and in Jacuzzi.

Since I will be missing work here and there, I decided to FINALLY tell my boss what’s going on. My first sentence was, “We’re going to talk about my uterus but just stay strong and we’ll get through this together.” I told him everything very matter of fact. That we’ve been having fertility issues for awhile now and we have an opportunity to be a part of a clinical trial that may entail me missing work here and there. Despite his obvious discomfort (he backed away from me on his rolling chair as if infertility was contagious), he was very understanding and wished me luck.

And so, here we are. It’s 2011. I’ve lost some weight, I’m getting ready for my second IVF through a carefully organized Clinical Trial, my main contact at the clinic was in Charlie’s Angels (sort of) and this weekend will be the last weekend for awhile that my body will be my own. Wow. That’s a very full paragraph, ain’t it?

I can’t lie: I’m scared. I’m scared of what this trial is going to be like. I’m scared I can’t lose more weight. I’m scared that I won’t be able to balance writing, my day job, IVF and my sanity. Mostly, I’m scared that I’m never going to have the experience of pregnancy or of motherhood.

As I looked through the copies of the paperwork that Drew Barrymore sent me, I began to get overwhelmed. I started to cry… and then I thought about the word “drag”. This is a drag but it’s not forever and I need to stay strong. The second I thought that to myself, I stopped crying, put away the paperwork and got on with my day.