Since Joey and I decided to change uteri, she has been the one talking with the RE’s office. It wasn’t a well-thought-out plan, it just happened. So today our super-sweet IVF nurse called me and asked in her most tentative voice if Joey, the doctor and I are “all on the same page.” It did not occur to me to think that the RE’s office would wonder if Joey was sneaking around to cycle without my knowledge. I had a moment when I imagined myself feigning shock and dismay. *Gasp* Yes, my partner is resorting to subterfuge to steal our donor eggs. I assured the nurse that I am, indeed, onboard with Joey being the basket we put our eggs in. Then I had something of an out-of-body experience. I heard myself reassuring the nurse that I feel happy and confident with the new plan. I sounded so calm, composed and wise that I felt as though I was listening to someone else. With Joey and online, I pour out my unattractive emotions. Publicly, I whip out the “everything happens for a reason” persona. I despise sympathy for myself: emotionally guarded, who me?
I had a few people ask about whether we are staying with donor eggs even though we are changing carriers. Yes, for several reasons. 1) Joey’s eggs are an unknown entity. They may be fine but they haven’t worked so well with all the IUIs or at-home attempts. 2) We have already made our peace with using donor eggs. After making that internal shift, we just don’t care about the genesis of our eggs. 3) We have already paid for this cycle. If we switched to traditional IVF, we would have to pay several thousand more dollars.
Incidentally, we are looking at a transfer in the beginning of March.
My out-of-body experience made me think about what characteristics I will take on now that I have had to jettison a part of who I planned to be. Some of my considerations:
- I will become brooding and mysterious. Problem is that a name like Cindy does not lend itself to “brooding” or “mysterious.” My name is much more often associated with peppy cheerleaders or the Brady family.
- I will write deep, emotional poetry. However I am not a teenager anymore and frankly, I suck at poetry.
- I will become disillusioned with life and will speak entirely in pithy, angry phrases. See considerations 1 and 2 for all the reasons this idea just sucks.
- I will use my free time to pick up a hobby. Ok, but it is hard to translate a hobby into a new reason to live. (Perhaps an overstatement)
- I will become the ultimate in zen. Within the next year, I will mature to be like the bastard love child of Buddha and Jesus. Problem is that I can never maintain the flashes of zen I see and no one could stand me if I lived in complete enlightenment. Let’s face it, perfect is boring.
- I will use my free. non-pregnant time to get back into great shape. If I can’t be pregnant, then by gosh I will be HOT again. Good-bye TTC weight. My ass re-joined the gym today. Okay so getting back into shape is hardly original and is less than a profound experience for the soul. But I plan to look damn good when I am toting around our baby. I want strangers to say, “We can’t believe you are a new mother. How did you get your figure back so quickly?”