On rare occasions, I have a difficult time falling asleep. VERY rare. In fact, once I am horizontal in bed and sleepy, I can totally call how long it’s going to take me to fall asleep. Someone might be trying to tell a story and I’m all ‘I’ll be unconscious in forty seven seconds, so hurry’ and then I am. I’m not even lying. I’m like that doll we had as kids where the eyes popped open when she was upright, and closed when you laid her down. Just like that. (But less scary.)

Last night was one of those seldom occasions when I couldn’t fall asleep. And I can tell you exactly why, too. It’s because I was going over my IVF paperwork (that I’ve had for three weeks) in preparation for my nurse coordinator visit today. It was something like 15 pages of double copy sheets from the Miracle Grow Reproductive Endocrinology Clinic requiring initials and signatures basically acknowledging their disclaimers such as:

– we know this is expensive, but we’re not responsible for your emotional or financial state
– it might not work
– your eggs may be damaged
– we might accidentally damage your eggs
– an act of God might shut off our power and damage your embryos
– if it works, their is a chance of malformation, but not more of a chance than getting pregnant any other way
– you might hyperstimulate which can lead to death, but don’t worry, we try to avoid that!

And so on and so forth. I can honestly tell you, there was a moment of anxiety there so great that I considered calling the whole thing off. Or upping my anti-anxiety/anti-depressant dosage because maybe, just maybe, ten milligrams wasn’t enough. Instead, I quietly hyperventilated myself to sleep. Otherwise, the wailing would have woken up the dogs and I would have had to take them out to pee — in a torn up back yard. But that’s another story.

I woke up this morning with a little relief. The kind of relief you feel when you just barely avoid being in a car accident. Or when you are pretty sure that was the last time you are going to throw up so you can go ahead and flush now. Yeah, THAT kind of relief. My 8:30 appointment, otherwise known as this-is-when-we-start-taking-your-money-but-we’ll-break-you-in-slow-so-just-make-it-a-couple-grand meeting couldn’t come soon enough, except that when I got there, I had to wait half an hour. Even after reminding the Receptionist-With-The-Personality-Of-A-Septic-Tank that I had been waiting, I think for fun, she made me wait a half an hour MORE. And during the time that I waited, FOUR people went in and out of their appointments, including a 9am person who had arrived early. I was pretty livid, and considering, for the second time in 24 hours, throwing in the towel.

What a fucking unfabulous way to start this off.

But Nurse Wild Child (our WONDERFUL IVF coordinator), really helped calm me down. Her humor, knowledge, and patience walked us through the process, gave me something to hope for, and reminded us why we were there.

Nurse Wild Child gave us our calendar! It is so pretty and color coded and organized, it would make any individual afflicted with Type A Personality want to subject themselves to injections in the ass and stomach. Voluntarily. They gave me a nice little folder for my paperwork and a little toiletry looking bag with a travel-size sharps container, for those injections-on-the-run! We have ordered our multitude of medications, and made our first two appointments for a suppression check and first scan. I haven’t felt this organized about something since I was going into 5th grade.

We are super nervous. What if it doesn’t work? What if it does? We are also super excited and we want to be super hopeful. This is really happening. We’re really about to go through an IVF cycle. For real.

After all this, the feelings of stapling-the-corners-of-the-Receptionist’s-mouth-to-her-ears-so-she-will-smile subsided, replaced with the optimism that she might one day smile on her own. Maybe not in my lifetime. But one day. And that kind of optimism can be found in one little white 10mg happy pill, so I guess it’s enough after all.

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