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Fertility Treatment the Second Time Around
a blog by murgdan
Is anything better the second time around?
It’s been said that subsequent pregnancies are never as thrilling as the first. The woman who shunned soft cheeses and sushi sneaks Tekka Maki and downs her Greek Salad with chunks of feta. Her second child gets away with things the firstborn didn’t dare dream about doing.
The same thing is true for fertility treatments.
My first IVF was the culmination of years of anticipation and months of preparation. I counted off the time, marking a big ‘X’ on the calendar as each day got closer to our chance at finally achieving pregnancy. I ordered my medications over the phone with excitement, not caring about the price tag that came along with it. I was so hopeful that after a few weeks of injections we would finally get the news we’d been waiting for, I practically skipped the block and a half from my office to the fertility clinic for my frequent monitoring appointments.
When I found out that the basket I had placed my eggs in wasn’t foolproof, I was shattered. All that hope and excitement was for naught. I didn’t work. It doesn’t always work the first time.
Preparations for our Frozen Embryo Transfer began without fanfare. The appointments were fit into my calendar in between work meetings and dental cleanings. The transfer date was set and the day was requested off like any other. I swung by the local pharmacy to pick up the medications, and the cost was so small I could pay cash.
The second time around things become routine.
If I were to be honest, I’d tell you I prefer it this way. There’s a balance that comes with familiarity, and this place feels safer to me. I’m not jumping around with naïve anticipation. I’m not fantasizing about pregnancy announcements. While I once bounced into the fertility clinic with a girlish spring in my step, I now walk in the doors a level-headed, mature woman, well-poised, chin up, knowing what to expect.
I am now armed with the knowledge that no matter what happens, I will survive it.
My two frozen blastocysts have been thawed and placed into my well-prepared uterus.
This may work.
This may not work.
This time things are moving forward on their own momentum. Step by step I am propelled into another pregnancy attempt, one day at a time. This time there is no roller coaster of emotion—hope is now tempered by reality.
Still, possibility stretches out before me like a new day. Despite my newfound balance, I’d be lying if I said the thought of it didn’t make me want to skip . . . just a little bit.