It also reminded me of a friend's effort for my cousin's wife's baby shower--were you able to follow and connect the dots, whew! Anyway, in good faith she ordered a cake, and the decorator took the liberty to write "Sent from heaven above, a ball to love." My cousin's wife was huge. We all cracked up. so much for the baby part.
There seem to be so many ironic moments in this journey. Here are my top three:
1. Taking birth control pills(BCP): So, I pay the clinic $9,328 and the first thing the doctor prescribes is a pill that prevents me from getting pregnant. As part of down regulation, you're placed on BCP. Still weird. Still depressing. Maybe this this month I just happened to ovulate the perfect little egg and the sperminator wiggled his way into a cracked shell, and my cozy uterus said, "Move on in!" Ok, realistically doubtful--and a good reason to turn down a extra request of sex--but still weird.
2. Inject yourself with diabetic medicine: again part of the down regulation, but maybe I should just not eat the dozen chocolate chip cookies last week when my 26 year old neighbor shared her great news of getting knocked-up on the first try. I'm excited for her. Seriously. Just frustrated with myself, and at the time the cookies--and three Hershey bars--really did make it better. I encourage pity parties, so long as you put a time limit and are only celebrating yourself--no neighbor bashing!
3. Wait to have a baby so you're prepared: this still gets under my skin because I believe people should wait. Live with your love. Work and save money. Get out your demons. Let your eggs shrivel up. Ok, who knows about the the latter, but with time comes age--and naturally more health issues. But thankfully, we waited seven years for baby K so we were able to pull the $15,000+ after insurance to have her. Totally worth the wait. But perhaps somewhere in that 25 year-old gyno appointment someone should have run a FSH beta? Just sayin' it probably would have swung our timelines a bit. So, while a day three FSH isn't the tell all if you should let-go of your egg-os, it's a start.
I think this irony settles in with an unsuccessful or canceled cycle--like the procrastinator's meeting has been postponed. So, while I bask in the shadow of irony, eat a sugary snack, pop a birth control pill, fill up on diabetic meds, and write checks to a doctor for an impoverished family's yearly income, I rub St. Jude and visualize our family one embryo at a time.