The third appointment with Dr. N included an vaginal ultrasound to count my follicles and series of smiley or frowny faces that Dr. N drew on a piece of paper.
My FSH level: 4.8 mIU/mL. Smiley face.
My Inhibin B level, which helps determine egg quality: 79 pg/mL. Smiley face.
My Anti-Mullerian Hormone, which helps give an estimate of the remaining egg supply: .31 ng/mL. Frowny face.
My Antral Follicle Count, the number of follicles seen during the ultrasound: 6. Frowny Face.
Having two Alaska Airline Visa cards, one American Express, one Virgin America Visa, and one Discover card: Smiley face.
So the big deal about my tubes being unexplainably blocked no longer seemed to be the issue. The bigger problem was my egg reserve. With such a low follicle count there is a high probability that I will respond poorly to the stimulation drugs and a higher rate of IVF cycle cancellation. Seriously?
Dr. N explained the process, but what I heard was out of 6 follicles we may retrieve 5. Out of those 5, 3 may be of decent size. Of those 2, 1 will actually be able to meet the sperm and divide properly. But then that one will deflate and turn into jiz foam that the doctor will dump on my head and a bell will ring and everyone in his office will yell, “You Lose!” But I am dramatic and pessimistic.
What Noah heard was that we still have a chance.
What Dr. N then recommended is that I take two-three months to try some alternative medicine solutions, like acupuncture, to get my body and mind right. Then we have to move quickly. My reserves are running out.
I figured I would give myself three days to be angry and doubtful. Three days to inundate myself with Internet “research” that just reiterates how minimal my chances are, and then I have to refocus. I have to see the glass half full. I have to believe and imagine that this will work. I have to have faith and hope. Maybe this is my life lesson. Maybe finding optimism is really what this is all about. So I can create a home for a baby who may go on to do great things because of his/her positive attitude and determination. I’m determined but defeated.
And this is only day two. So I can question and obsess and be negative and hopeless and angry for another day and a half. So here goes:
Why is this happening? Why is this so easy for some people? Why is my body broken? Am I going to start carrying a cat in a onesie around in a baby bjourn? The Internet says a normal total antral follicle count is between 15-30. And that a count less than 6 indicates a poor prognosis. FUCK FUCK FUCK!
There’s more where that came from but I need to move on. Operation optimism is in full effect. But how? My logical brain, my rational self can see my numbers and understand the science behind my actual odds. But the tiny drop of spirituality that lives deep inside my soul knows how badly I want a baby. It knows that there is a psychological component to all of this. There is power in hope and healing in positive energy. This situation has given me no choice but to learn to cultivate some of this optimism that is buried deep within my cynical, charcoal heart.
In order to actually do this, I need a plan. I have two plus months of IVF prep to increase my shitty egg situation through calming my body and tricking my mind into believing I’m an optimist. No wait, that sounds like a pessimist in sheep’s clothing. I have to create a two month mental and physical training program to help me battle any doubtful or negative thoughts and learn to become a more open and hopeful person. That sounds better. I wish I could just buy optimism on the Internet. Maybe in a tincture.
It’s not totally true that I am a negative person. I’m selling myself short. Being a psychotherapist, I HAVE to have hope. Hope that my client’s can get better, that life is worth living. And I do. I just have a tendency to forecast the worst possible situation.
So I need to start utilizing some of the cognitive-behavioral strategies I teach to my clients. The worst thing that happens is IVF doesn’t work. We will have lost time and money, and I’ll probably have a few bruises on my belly, and we’ll be back to square one in our attempt at figuring out how we’re going to build our family.
The best case scenario is that I learn to relax. I learn to cultivate hope and acceptance of what is. I learn to love myself and my imperfect insides and I have faith that somehow the universe and my Doctor and my husband and my huevos will band together to make me a baby.
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