I am the only woman at the clinic the Wednesday of the week they re-open. It makes me feel somewhat overly efficient in light of my dubious fertility. And is it my imagination or are Sister and Dr C being just a bit too nice?
This month I don’t even need to wait for my FSH results to know we are once again out of luck. My scan reveals one barely there ovum. ONE.
We need to wait for my bloods before making a call, says Dr C, there could still be a chance. I don’t think any of us believe that. Nobody prepares a drug schedule. We agree to wait, and sure enough when I get the call that afternoon my levels are still way too high (19).
I am, by now, pragmatic about my chances of having a child. They get slimmer and slimmer with each visit to Dr C.
So let’s cut to the chase of my situation:
Consistently high FSH levels likely suggest that my ovaries have closed up shop. They’re done. Out of business. Not coming to this party. Things could change but only time will tell.
There is one last avenue to start taking Testosterone throughout my cycle, with Oestrogen on Day 20, to see if we can kick start my system into action but… I haven’t made a decision on that.
Maybe I will give it one more shot, but not this month. This month I need to come to terms with the reality that I have probably come to the end of the line of the idea of having my own child.
Dr C tells me that I still have options. I could use an egg donor. I ask him straight if he thinks my uterus will even carry a child and he doesn’t know.
Google told me that women with Adenomyosis “have higher miscarriage rates than women without the condition, as much as double the risk of pregnancy loss, and an increased risk of premature labor and abruptio placentae (a condition when the placenta detaches from the uterine wall during pregnancy).”
So here I am with an unknown sperm donor, the possibility of requiring an unknown egg donor and a high possibility of miscarriage. I think it’s safe to say that odds are not in my favour.
People keep asking how my appointment went but I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to feel. And I have no idea what to do.
The idea of you is slipping away.
You’re a tiny ghost who I can feel all around me but cannot touch. You exist in my heart as a pure and unconditional love that waits and waits and waits and yet it seems that you will never exist with me here in this world.
I know that I have already started to grieve your loss. And that the first stage is Denial.