My meds arrive today.  They’ll be here a little ahead of time, since I want to make sure I have my Lupron well before needing to fly for the holidays.  I’m a little stressed about having to travel with the meds.  It used to be that Lupron didn’t have to be refrigerated after you started using it, but I guess (because of the shortage) they’re now not made with preservatives, so they have to be kept cold all the time.  Luckily, I bought a soft lunch bag for a previous mid-cycle trip that I can fill with mini ice packs.  I’m not as concerned about security at the airport; I’ll make sure I have a letter and that everything is labeled.  I don’t exactly look like a shady type, so hopefully it’ll go smoothly.  I’m most nervous about dealing with the ice packs at J’s family’s house.  They don’t know about the IVF at all, so I’ll have to be sneaking ice packs in and out of the freezer and hope that no one will notice or ask why I’m doing that.  Not fun.  J tells me that I have nothing to worry about, but that’s his usual response.  Luckily, I’m less sensitive and stressed about cycling than I have been at the past, and VERY luckily, J’s family seems extremely respectful of privacy and boundaries.  Otherwise, that situation would cause me some serious anxiety.  Now, it’s just a little minor uneasiness.

Our donor contract has been completed and our attorney sent legal clearance to our clinic.  Yesterday, I got a list of all the meds our donor will be taking.  It’s crazy to see for the first time how much the IVF meds really cost.  Follitism is over $3000.  Menopur is about $1700.  I never forget how incredibly lucky I am to have had insurance coverage for most of my cycles.  It’s such a crazy, lucky accident that we happened to move to Massachusetts before even knowing we had to deal with IF.

It was strange hearing the guy at the fertility pharmacy talking about calling my donor to schedule delivery.  She’s so intimately connected to us, but we’ll never speak to her.  I’m starting to put together a little thank you gift for her.  It makes me feel really good to do this.  It makes the upcoming cycle real to me, and it feels good to express the gratitude and fondness I feel towards her.  I know I’m incredibly lucky to have found such a wonderful donor.  I can honestly say to our child/children that we searched through hundreds of profiles to find the perfect donor, and that she’s a kind, warm, smart, intellectually curious person we felt was the perfect person to help us make our family.  Her profile says that she loves to read, so I got her nice hardcopies of two classics (one my favorite book).  I’m also putting together a care package of treats for her post-retrieval time – an assortment of teas, cookies, and chocolates.  And a thank you card – unsigned, of course.

What a strange, sci-fi experience to go through, though.  The clinic nurse explained that when J goes in for his “donation” he’ll have to exit the clinic through a different passage, so that there’s no chance of their accidentally seeing each other in the waiting room.  The donor’s husband and baby will probably be there, too.  How incredibly odd to think that there will be half-siblings to my kids out there…

Every once in awhile my thoughts will creep to the possibility of this cycle not working.  The thought is just too  terrifying.  It feels like the precipitous drop off of a huge cliff.  I tell myself that we’ll cope with it the way we’ve coped with everything else.  I reassure myself again and again that I have the strength.  But there’s this nugget of fear buried in there – that if this DE cycle doesn’t work there’s a possibility that there’s some mysterious, unknowable, untreatable reason even egg donation won’t work for us.  Just some mysterious reason I can NEVER GET PREGNANT.  After trying for so many years and not once having (even an unsuccessful) pregnancy, it is really hard to believe it can ever happen.  Frankly, the thought of my becoming pregnant feels like more of a miracle than the story of Jesus’ conception.  Because of that, I’ve been thinking of the word “miracle” a lot lately.  It’s not a word that your average agnostic thinks of often, but I guess that’s what infertility does to you.

– Patience