Options.

[backspaceeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee] 

There's no good way to write this blog post. 

The End.

Just kidding. 

Here it goes:

I went back for a follow up with the fertility specialist last Friday. I am still wrapping my mind and heart around the fact that I am seeing a fertility specialist. Why can't that sink in? Perhaps because I never imagined I would need it. I'm young. I'm fit and healthy. My marriage is fit and healthy. I have a child already. It took us 4 months to become pregnant with LB. All of our test results are normal.  We are doing everything right. In other words: Everything is perfect. 

Except that it's not.

According to the doctor and the 16 unproductive cycles of trying, I am left with this sobering fact:

We have a 2-3% chance of becoming pregnant on our own. TWO to THREE percent.

Let that one sink in, because it took me a little while to digest that. An average woman my age has a 20% chance of getting pregnant each month. I have a 2-3% chance. Eff.

The doctor provided me with a list of options because who doesn't like options when faced with a sad percentage like that? There's timed ovulation, super ovulation, IUI and IVFs. And again I am struck with the realization that this doctor is talking to me about fertility treatments. I am going to do fertility treatments even when there is nothing wrong. 

[There is nothing wrong with me. There is nothing to fix. I am not broken.]

Yet, for some reason I am staring at pamphlets for fertility treatments. And I am calm. I am talking about IUIs and timed ovulations with a calmness that deserted me the moment I stepped out of the office. 

After reviewing all of my options I decided to go for the one that was least invasive. Maybe, just maybe, we just need a little help. Plus, even though Den was not with me I knew what his reaction and his response would be to things like super ovulation and IVF. "No Thanks." I explained to the doctor that I knew my husband didn't want to do anything to up our chances of having multiples. Not yet at least. 

So next cycle we will be trying femara. In which the doctor slightly frowned and informed me that this was an "okay option, but considering your almost year and a half of trying, this only bumps your chances of conceiving up 8-10%" 

And there he goes with those sobering percentages again. 

But what else can I do? Yes, I have other options but they don't seem like options yet.

And so, here I am. Trying to be optimistic. Hearing "2-3%" in my head throughout the day. It just pops in and says "Hey, Al, remember when the doctor said you hardly have any chance of having a baby on your own? Wasn't that grand?" It's like a punch in the gut.

And the bottom line is I am trying my hardest not to ask, WHY?

Why us? Why am I going through something so out of my control again? It reminds me of when the doctors explained Lily's diagnosis and told us that "It's just a fluke. There's no apparent reason she was born this way." And I constantly tried not asking God, Why? Why her? Why us? Why did you do this?

Why are you doing this? 

I know it's not fair to ask that. I know that I should think of this as a character builder. I know I should take my options and hug them close and thank God that I have options. I know I will look back on this one day and tell myself I am better because of it. 

I know all this but it doesn't help right now. 

The only little seed of hope I am clinging to with all my might right now is this:

When we do get pregnant, it will be a miracle. And thus, we will have another miracle baby.