Journey To the Finish Line

PR's, 4 children, hopes and dreams; I'm always running after something



Why There Probably Won’t Be a Number Three

I got an interesting, out of the blue request the other day.

The marketing department from the fertility clinic both called and wrote me an email, saying Channel 2 was interested in doing a news story on a patient who had taken Letrozole as part of their fertility treatment. Would I be interested in participating in this interview?

Honestly, at first I didn’t recall taking Letrozole, but once I googled it realized it was just the technical name for Femara, one of the meds I was given to take for our IUI cycle. The crappy hooray we have enough sperm to try an IUI canceled IUI cycle. The point of the interview, though (if I understood correctly) was to talk about how there is a smaller chance of multiple eggs and side effects (vs. using Clomid which I have not ever taken) and not whether it was part of a successful pregnancy, so I agreed.

I met with a photographer today who admittedly didn’t have much background on the subject of either infertility or the medication. I had no knowledge of what kind of questions they would ask, so we were both kind of winging it. He seemed confused as to why they would interview someone who had used it during a cancelled cycle and what exactly a cancelled cycle meant while I awkwardly stood in front of a camera trying to explain that the med had done what it was supposed to do and that the fact that my cycle was canceled had nothing to do with it. (This was all while trying to describe it to someone who had no idea what I was talking about.)*

As part of the interview, he asked me how it felt to have a successful cycle and how it felt to have a twins as a result (I am paraphrasing) and I meant every word when I said that it was an emotionally and financially taxing time, but that it was absolutely worth it and I would do it all over again.

I was kind of lying.

Right up there with my divorce, infertility was one of the most difficult things I’ve endured. I’ve written several posts before about how hard it is on ALL of your relationships, your emotions and even your sense of self. Even now as a mom it creeps in through feelings of guilt when I find myself annoyed over the 2nd middle of the night wake up.

Bryan sometimes expresses interest in having more, and while I watch some friends’ bellies grow, attend baby showers and coo over their newborn pictures I sometimes, briefly, think that it would be cool to experience again. For Abby and Miles, I would absolutely 100% relive every bad day and cry every tear. I would do it all over again, for THEM. But not for any more.

I have absolutely no interest in meds, injections, monitoring appointments and blood tests. No more appointments. No more transfers. No more anxiety.

I am just fine with two.

*I’m sure they will piece something together thanks to the magic of editing, unless they just decide to cut it altogether. Should I get word it is airing I will try to record and post it 🙂



Celebrating the Extraordinary

There have been times that I’ve complained(mostly to myself) about feeling ordinary. A jack of many trades but a master of none – there isn’t much that sticks out that makes me special or different from everyone else. Yesterday I sat outside at a park near the water, admiring the view. An ordinary September day in Charleston in most respects, and an ordinary activity for many. Parents and children mixed in the scenery; parents chatting, children playing. A man serving ice cream. A jump castle. A woman taking pictures. Hugs. Smiles. Face Painting.

I seriously wanted to crawl in the caterpillar
I seriously wanted to crawl in the caterpillar

Earlier this month we received an invitation in the mail from our fertility clinic, for a party to “celebrate babies”. Liking any opportunity in particular to celebrate (read: show off) OUR babies, I RSVP’d right away. I expected to see some old familiar faces, hand off the babies for our fertility doc to hold and admire (what? they are cute), and possibly see a person or two that I knew in real life who had undergone fertility treatments. I figured it would be an ordinary day. I expected to hang out for an hour or so, eat some ice cream, ask for a photo and head home.

aforementioned photo request :)
aforementioned photo request 🙂

We arrived just as things were starting so other than staff members (and the ever important ice cream guy), the park was relatively empty. The babies were given some super cool hats and we took a family photo.

Our babies rock the Coastal hats
Our babies rock the Coastal hats

We chatted with our doc for awhile as others started to trickle in. He was quickly pulled away by a slew of other previous patients anxious to show off their own babies so we sat down and ate while I fed the babies and I watched. Some parents were glowing, some looked exhausted, others looked a bit frantic as one child ran toward the caterpillar while the other took off toward the jump castle (that will be me in the not too distant future). I watched families pose for pictures,hold babies, wipe faces and share stories. I thought about how, to the onlooker, we all looked like ordinary families at an ordinary picnic. And in many ways we were. I obviously don’t know their stories, but I’m betting, like ours, they involved stress, heartache, hope,  and fear. I’m betting, like ours, their journey’s to parenthood were anything but ordinary.

Surprisingly, though, I find myself feeling grateful for the experience, even with all of the pain. And not only for the experience but for all of the awesome people we worked with who supported us, rooted for us and celebrated with us.

She's pretty awesome
She’s pretty awesome

I’m grateful for the science that allowed us and couples like us to create our families. We were all there that day to celebrate babies and life – the extraordinary way they were brought to us. To celebrate the extraordinary journey’s we took, the extraordinary doctors and staff. To celebrate our extraordinary levels of perseverance and hope. Our extraordinary families.

group fertility clinic

Finding Us

Several weeks ago I got an email from my timeshare.

Usually, if you don’t use the points you get for the year, they are automatically saved so you can use them the next year. You can’t use them during the high season, but at least they don’t disappear.

Apparently timeshares are also feeling the effects of the economy, because this particular email informed me that if I wanted to save my points, I would have to fork over $35.

Are you flipping kidding me?

So naturally my logic kicked in and I declared DARN YOU TIMESHARE, I will show you by scheduling a trip, so I don’t have to pay you $35!!!! We are going to St Augustine over Easter weekend!!

Because the gas will cost like $150, so that train of thought totally makes sense right?

As it turns out, it did. But for a totally different reason.

Marriage is hard. Unemployment doesn’t help. Now let’s throw in infertility. Anyone with half an iota of experience in infertility can tell you that it can ruin marriages. Even when you’re on the same page as far as the plan. And don’t get me started on the effects of your….uh….extracurricular activities.

We did some planning ahead. A wonderful neighbor so nicely agreed to watch the dogs, we took food to cook and planned on spending most of our time at the beach and the pool (yay free activities!). Although we should have saved the money, we both agreed we really  needed the getaway. So we packed the truck, said goodbye to our furry friends and hit the road.

Friday we hit the beach. Bryan was an avid kite flyer many moons ago when his family lived in Savannah, so he brought them out of the dust. He is also an avid shopper at the Habitat for Humanity Re-Store. Although I make fun of him for it, he has actually purchased some cool stuff there, including our patio furniture, a George Foreman Grill and a Cappuccino machine (I have been there a few times and have yet to find anything that cool). At one visit recently, he announced that he spent $2 on a little pup tent that we could probably use. It was still in his truck (because, shockingly, we hadn’t needed it), but we figured it might come in handy. We found a spot, and set it up. It became apparent that he hadn’t taken it out of the packaging at the store:

Coolest tent EVER

Well, at least we wouldn’t lose our stuff.

Bryan spent the better part of 2 hours putting a kite back together that his dad made for him for his birthday. After much finagling (him) and string holding (me), he was able to get it into the air. Yes, that’s what it looks like it is

He had also borrowed a medal detector from a friend so he searched for treasure

While I enjoyed the view of my (soon to be very sunburned)  feet

hi feet!

Afterwards it started to get cold, so we went back to the hotel and had a nap, cooked dinner, walked around the outlet mall to window shop (where I subsequently bought a new pair of running shoes, justifying it by saying I’m using the money we would have spent boarding the dogs…..and that I really  need to have good shoes for my feet…..what? I do) and hit the hot tub. Saturday I went running (shock, right?) and we had lunch with his mom, step dad and grandmother, who happened to live only 90 minutes away. We hit the other side of the Outlet Mall that night, but this time, we were serious

That’s my window shopping face.


Although I didn’t NEED anything, I thought it would be nice to find something for the summer. In our search, we acted like spies:

Powers and Powers, super spies

Bryan also demonstrated just how cool he is:

And I tried on some SUPER attractive outfits:

For the record, I did NOT buy that.

 After our shopping excursion, we spent the rest of the evening downtown. We had a drink in this nifty historic tavern and had the BEST salad EVER at this Columbian restaurant, where I also had a giant piece of chocolate cake. Mmmm…cake.

Sunday, I got a pic with the Easter bunny…kinda.

As an added bonus, we stopped by his dad’s on the way home, where I was able to meet him, Bryan’s step mom, and their super cute Pomeranian. (of course I am not at all biased because I have one, too)

We were less than thrilled to head back to the grind on Sunday. But this trip made me realize something. We were STRESSED OUT. Not that I didn’t know that, but this trip allowed us to be US again – the silly, stupid song making, ridiculous picture taking, FUN couple we were before all of this nonsense started. We laughed, slept in, and enjoyed each others’ company. For a few days I wasn’t constantly worried about money and IVF. One of the suckiest side effects of infertility (besides the obvious) is the way that it can slowly inch its’ way into your marriage, and its’ ability to leave you feeling one day, seemingly out of the blue, that your relationship just isn’t the good solid thing it was before. You start to wonder “how did we get here?”.  These few days away helped us find US again. We need US to be successful at becoming parents. That isn’t to say that everything is perfect now that we are back home. Stress doesn’t go away, and unfortunately you can’t just run away from it. But the last couple days at least things have felt more lighthearted, and for once I’m glad to have that timeshare, so the next time I get an unsuspecting email about another charge I can say wholeheartedly TAKE THAT TIMESHARE! We will just take a trip!

Lessening the Financial Burden – Hopefully

(My apologies for the weird ~ marks – for some reason it won’t let me space the post the way I want it and that was the only way I could insert a space)
I clicked on a Facebook link yesterday that gave a fictional story of a couple with infertility. I can relate to that. I can relate to almost all of them. At the end of the story though was information on something that was apparently introduced in 2011 but until now I had never heard of: The Family Act
  • The Family Act covers the out-of-pocket costs associated with in vitro fertilization (IVF) including diagnostic tests, laboratory charges, professional charges, and medications for IVF.
  • The Family Act covers the out-of-pocket costs of fertility preservation procedures if the man or woman is diagnosed with cancer and the cancer treatment or disease itself may result in infertility.
  • The Family Act has a cost sharing provision allowing 50% of all applicable medical expenses to be  covered up to a lifetime maximum of $13,360. You would need to have out-of-pocket costs totaling $26,720 to claim the entire credit in your lifetime.
  • If you do not owe taxes in a particular year, do not owe enough taxes to use the whole credit, or do not reach the max amount in one tax year, it carries over to the next year for a max of five years after the first year you use the credit.
  • The Family Act is available to couples filing jointly with adjusted gross incomes of less than $222,520, but the credit is smaller for those earning between $182,500 and $222,520.
As all of you probably know by now, either because you’ve experienced it or I’ve complained about it so much, most insurances do not cover infertility treatments. This opportunity for a tax credit would be a HUGE help in lifting the financial burden. Except it hasn’t passed yet. Naturally I hopped on board and clicked to send a pre-written email asking my state “decision makers” to support this Act.
The format looked like this:
Senator Lindsey Graham
Russell Senate Office Building, Room 290
Constitution and Delaware Avenues, NE
Washington, DC 20510-4003
Dear Senator Graham,As someone who cares about the 7.3 million women and men with
infertility, I ask for your support in co-sponsoring the Family Act of
2011, S 965. The Family Act creates a tax credit for the out-of-pocket
costs associated with infertility medical treatment.

*Enter personal statement here*

Thank you for your support of S 965, the Family Act.   And thank you
for helping millions of Americans build their families.


Theresa ——-
Address etc.
At first I tried to click through without a personal statement.
But it wouldn’t let me.
Where do I even begin? I could go on for pages on the effects of infertility – physically, emotionally, financially. How it impacts your marriage, your social life, your work, play, everything. I’ve blogged about this before. However, our state “decision makers” don’t have that kind of time. How on earth do I describe this in just a few sentences that someone important might actually read?
I have to admit I thought of a few sarcastic, not so PC ones:
  • Teenagers everywhere get pregnant because they didn’t use birth control. I did. I got a job and got married. Now I have to pay for the chance to have a baby. In the words of every teenager out there: that’s not fair.
  • Seriously? Snookie is pregnant. Please support the SANE people trying to build families
  • Because I shouldn’t have to take a second mortgage out on my house to have a baby
  • First comes the love, then comes the marriage, then we push the debt around in the baby carriage. Please support this tax credit
  • Because we have a MEDICAL PROBLEM that ordinarily would be covered by insurance, but for some ridiculous reason that I can’t understand it isn’t, so at least give us the freaking tax credit
  • Because I could beat you in a race
  • Because I don’t want to have to pay for depression meds on top of treatment
  • Because I’m cool people
  • Because IVF costs as much as a CAR. (At least when you buy a car, you know you get to take it home)
Finally, I decided on this:
Infertility is a heart wrenching experience and the treatment cost is
often astronomical. Please help support our fight to build our family
by lessening the financial burden.
I don’t usually post here asking people to do things. Please take a few minutes, click the link below and send a letter to your state “decision maker” to support this for all of us.
Because if this were passed for tax year 2012, it would be a HUGE help to me, and many others I know and don’t know going through IVF this year.
Because I can out run you.

I’m not Infertile, I’m Reproductively Challenged

A couple of weeks ago, I had to have a conversation I never thought I would have to have.

I had to tell my (male) boss about our infertility and plans to pursue IVF.

I realize that it’s really none of his business, and that legally I don’t have to say anything. That if I have enough PTO there is no reason I NEED to share this particular piece of information. But, in the same respect, I also know that I could have to take an hour or two, a whole day or a couple of days without much prior notice, and that losing my job because of recent weird absenteeism would not help our financial situation.

The one bonus I had is that he is a lone male in 2 offices full of women. Physical, Occupational and Speech Therapists tend to be women more often than men. But, as a male with two kids that I’m pretty sure they didn’t have issues conceiving, he probably had no idea what an IVF even was. (he didn’t)

I racked my brain for a couple of days after sending the message requesting to meet with him for a few minutes later that week on how I was going to introduce the topic.

  • Hey boss – despite all of the rabbit sex my husband and I are having, we can’t seem to get pregnant, so I’m going to need an IVF
  • Um, so you know when two people love each other very much? And they decide they want children? And then they do this thing so they can have children? That isn’t working for us
  • So while we have the outer parts working effectively, we can’t seem to get the sperm to meet the egg and therefore, need to do an IVF
  • Bryan and I can’t have kids naturally because I have PCOS and he doesn’t have enough sperm so we need an IVF

All of those options screamed TMI!. And truthfully, I went into the meeting having no idea how I was going to start the conversation about our sex life and ability to procreate. Talk about awkward.

Oddly, I sat down with him and blurted out, without thinking (which for me is usually a bad thing): Bryan and I are what I call “reproductively challenged”, and went on to explain that we were unable to have kids naturally and therefore would need to have the aid of science in order to be able to get pregnant. And that I’d need to take a few days of PTO. And that I wouldn’t be able to give much notice before taking the PTO. I even whipped out a handy calendar visual to explain how long it would take and when approximately I would need said days off.

Luckily, he was understanding, but as expected had no idea what an IVF was. Or how much one cost. When I told him, his jaw dropped.

Yeah, my thoughts exactly. And that’s for a 65% chance.

Since that conversation, I’ve decided I kinda like the term “reproductively challenged”. Infertile, literally meaning not fertile, does have a bit of a negative connotation. Not so negative that I’m going to contact my congressman and demand the term be changed to reproductively challenged in order to fight the discrimination of infertile people everywhere, but you know what I mean.  The “challenge” part in particular fits for me because of my competitive nature, and so I picture my PCOS ovaries with their multiple follicles attempting to produce one healthy egg, fighting over which one is going to grow its egg faster. The winner becomes the dominant queen follicle, reigning over all of ovary land, and the left side gets so angry at losing that it spits out a bunch of eggs and causes a tube blockage, rendering itself useless.

The right ovary and tube, celebrating its victory, merely laughs at the left side. Bryan’s sperm, thanks to too much testosterone (go figure), fight each other to the death on their way out, and so there are only a few healthy ones left at the end. Thus, making procreation challenging. And leaving a lonely queen egg.

Whoops, wrong Queen (

In all seriousness though, most of the time a diagnosis of infertility doesn’t mean we CAN’T reproduce, obtain or sustain a pregnancy, just that we need help doing so. So the next person stuck in the weird awkward situation of explaining to a male boss why you’re going to need several days off of work with little notice you can stick your chest out a little and proudly say “I’m not infertile, I’m reproductively challenged!” Make sure to stomp your foot for good measure.

The competitive nature in me accepts that challenge. And plans to WIN.

The Cost of Infertility

Infertility is costly. I complain about that a lot, just ask my husband.

Truthfully, I still haven’t decided on the route to take to pay for this IVF. It’s such a gamble that I’ve started considering having Bryan stand in front of me. I’ll be pay per cycle and he’ll be pay for multi-cycle, and then we can rock, paper, scissors – best 2 out of 3.

sorry, someone has to win

I’m a freak about money by nature, too, which doesn’t help. I’d be the one saving money forever and end up taking it to my grave with me because I was too afraid to spend it. But for the first time in my life I’m finding myself caring less about it. (not totally…just less)

I get/have gotten the suggestion to wait it out. It’s one that I too have struggled with, all of the unanswerable possibilities. I find myself searching for signs or hidden messages in our situation. What if all I need to do is wait a few more months? What if we spend the money and it happens on its own later and I was being impatient? What if I’m being too impatient? What if I’m meant to be childless? What if this is a sign I should adopt instead? What if this is a sign to wait? What if we go broke? What if it doesn’t work?

I’ve gotten suggestions to pray. I have. I do. But who is to say that IVF isn’t the miracle I’m praying for?

Many infertile women say they experience guilt. Anger. Frustration. Mostly at their own bodies not being able to do what nature intended. I understand where this comes from. Oddly, I don’t have this experience. I feel frustration and sadness. I sometimes feel anger. But not at my body, at our situation. Like, why did we draw this particular set of cards? I believe in God. I believe everything happens for a reason. I believe I’m meant to be a mom. I believe that sometimes, in my lowest moments, I also find them difficult to believe in.

For whatever reason, I know in my heart that this is the next step in my life. And not because of the routine get married, buy a house, have a family kind of reason. It originated from inside and worked its way out. It’s a desire, but not in the same way you desire a new pair of shoes. It’s a dream, but different from the kind of dream where you win the lottery and suddenly become independently wealthy. It’s like the dream you have, whatever it may be, that eats and nags at you even as you try to live your life and ignore it, that keeps eating at you until you find a way to make it happen. The kind that you might take to your deathbed and suddenly regret not trying. Is that lame? Maybe. So my dream isn’t to be an award-winning doctor or high-profile lawyer, it’s to be a mom…..that runs marathons 🙂

Each month comes with hope, however small. And up until now has been replaced by sadness. Hope. Sadness. Hope. Sadness. Like an eternal roller coaster ride. I love roller coasters, but I want off this one.

It effects your friendships. Your emotional state, and your husband’s. You question yourself. Your body. Your relationship suffers. It eats into your work, your social life, the places you once deemed safe. Infertility tests the strongest marriages, the souls of fighters, and the faith of the believers.

At this point, we are choosing to move forward. Take a risk. And finally, even though I’m still faced with more anxiety provoking decisions and a whole new set of what if’s, I feel a sense of peace and a different kind of strength to face this battle. It’s going to be expensive, and its going to be stressful.

The alternative is simply too costly.

The IVF Consult

Bryan and I had our IVF consult appointment on Friday. Now that the marathon is over, while I’ll still run and do small races until I’m told not to, we/I are changing focus to the second reason I initially started this blog: starting a family.

While the HCG shots seem to have help with sperm reproduction, we still don’t have enough for anything but an IVF. Our RE kept reiterating what good news this was. Sometimes I forget that – that we started with zero and could have ended with zero. It’s hard not to compare us to the “norm”. One thing struck me while sitting in the waiting room. There were at least 10 other people there, and more that walked out while we waited. I felt both sympathetic to and encouraged by the presence of others in my situation. It’s also hard to remember sometimes that we aren’t alone.

First, we met with the RE. He reviewed Bryan’s labs from the VA. He told us that because Bryan’s testosterone and FSH levels were in the normal range, there was a decent chance that his swimmmer issue wasn’t 100% testosterone shot related. The problem is that they give men testosterone but don’t have any reason to test sperm production and so they don’t, meaning that its difficult to tell if the problem is new, or was always there. He basically said that we could wait and see, but our chances that we would be sitting in those two chairs again a year from now with the same result were pretty good.

Bryan asked a few questions, and then the RE delved into the protocol he would have me follow (if  I remember it correctly). The entire process takes about 60 days from start to finish. The first month will be fairly simple – I’ll be taking meformin (a diabetic drug, because people with PCOS tend to have similar insulin issues as a diabetic) to improve egg quality, and be on birth control pills for 3 weeks. During that time I’ll also have to get a hysterosonogram to check my uterine cavity and a mock egg transfer. After the birth control pills come the injections and needles. First, Lupron, which is supposed to delay ovulation (I think), then at some point Follistim, HCG and FSH, the timing of each correlating with my eggs growing and the day of retrieval. During the second month, a million ultrasounds to monitor egg growth. On the day of the retrieval, I’ll be put to sleep for about 30 minutes and sent home for the rest of the day. The eggs will be fertilized and sent to an embryologist who will watch them divide and choose the best ones. If we are lucky, we will have extra to freeze. 1-2 will be chosen from the best, and transfered on day 3 or 5 after retrieval, depending on quality. A blood pregnancy test is scheduled 14 days after retrieval. At some point I get to start shoving progesterone into my lady parts, which sounds just awesome. He gave us a 65% chance.

And to think, some people just need to have s.e.x.

From the RE’s office we met with our nurse coordinator, who basically explained the schedule and told me what blood work I’d need to get done before we could start (which I had known that while we still had Bryan’s insurance).

Then we were off to see the financial lady, who so lovingly brought my head out of the clouds of possiblity by showing me a piece of paper detailing exactly how much this possibility is going to cost.

Apparently it really depends. The cost of the procedure is fixed, and is based on using 6 ultrasounds and blood draws. If your body responds well and you don’t need as many, you’ll have a posititve balance, but if you need more, you’ll owe. Medications aren’t included. Testing before you get started isn’t included. If you have extra embryos to freeze, that isn’t included.  Add it all together, and we are looking at a range of about 15-17k.

There are refund programs. One allows for 3 fresh cycles (as described above) and three frozen (transfering a frozen embryo) and if you don’t take home a baby, you get 70% or so of your money back. If you take home a baby first try, you still owe the grand total. Another is a non refund discount plan, where essentially you pay for 2 fresh and 2 frozen cycles at a discounted rate. If you don’t take home a baby, you’re out the money. If you take home a baby first try, you’re out the extra money. But the cost of the cycles is about 30% less than if you pay for each individually. Neither includes medications (another 2k per cycle).

I left with a headache.

It  makes sense when I think about it though. I think I managed to run through about 10 different emotions in the course of two hours, ranging from excitement to anxiety, hopefulness and worry, trepidation and possibility.

We’re gonna do it. The question is just when (shooting possibly for April), and how? (i.e. do we go with paying per cycle or do we try the multi cycle).

When Your Friend is Infertile….

Not too terribly long ago, I attempted to touch on one of the somewhat sensitive subjects of infertility – sharing a pregnancy announcement to someone who has been struggling for awhile in my post A letter to the editor.

Unfortunately, since I still only have a one sided view right now, I don’t feel like I expressed myself very well.

Another blogger friend, Daydreaming In Progress recently linked her blog to a post.

This third blogger, Elphaba, has seen both sides and tackled the question of how to deal with the topic of your own pregnancy and children to an infertile friend.

While I like to think that I’m a decent writer…….at times…… there is no way I could have said it better. I’d rather you read it than my incessant blabber so click below:

So What’s a Fertile To Do?

The Quest for IVF – Part 1

While no definite decision has been made on when exactly we will pursue IVF, we have basically decided that this is the best way for us to achieve our goal of getting pregnant in 2012. While I’m very afraid of investing every penny and then some, I’ve hit the point where I’m more tired of every month feeling like a failure.

At the very least, I’ve decided to be more proactive.

I called the RE’s office today. I left a message for the lady in charge of the finances, who has not yet returned my call. I did get ahold of our nurse in charge of coordinating the IVF and found out a bit of preliminary information.

At this clinic, to start an IVF you begin 2 months ahead of time. The first month, they obtain updated Day 3 hormone levels, HEP (I hung up without asking what this was….) and apparently even do a mock transfer to figure out where to place the embryos (like test driving a car?). I’m expected to have a “very flexible” morning schedule for the 2-3 weeks before retrieval, and to take off of work the day of retrieval and possibly the day after. I would also need to take off the day of the transfer and will be on bed rest for 48 hours after. (Holy hell, I SUCK at sitting still let alone lying still for 2 days)

We also scheduled an appointment with the RE for January 13 (Friday the 13th, ironically), when I’m also hoping to be able to speak to the finance lady if she doesn’t call me back and ask about the possibility of egg sharing/donation if that would apply for me.

Unexpectedly, even though we’ve made no decision yet, I feel more lighthearted than scared. Its kind of a relief. We will see how I feel once a decision is made but, for now I welcome the change of peace.

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