The Biggest Loser

Today I went in for my first IVF appointment, to make sure I'm all normal before they go pumping me with drugs that make me entirely ABNORMAL. First, I got my blood drawn by the same medical assistant who was my personal cheerleader a year ago. She asked me, "Is this your second try or your third try?"

Oh. My. God.

This is totally my third try. Like practically everyone who gets pregnant from IVF is already pregnant, and here I am again. I mean, how many times do I need to be left behind?

And I had this wave of rememberance, all of a sudden. Of talking to DH about someone we'd known who'd done IVF three times, and wasn't giving up. And we thought, "What more do you need? The writing is on the frickin' wall."

And now who can't frickin' read?!

I felt like the biggest loser. Not in the good, drop 500 pounds kind of way. But like the, "this is so not going to work," kind of way. And the, "wow, you really didn't get what it takes to finish this, to say you're done" kind of way.

So now, I won't say I'm never doing this again, or be so judgmental about people who do it 10 times and never get pregnant. We all draw a line in the sand somewhere, and the sand shifts, so our line does too, or at least becomes so blurred we can't see it all the time. Or maybe it gets washed away, and when we redraw it, it's a little farther up the shoreline.

But damn if I didn't feel like an idiot. It wasn't enough to eat my humble pie, I had to choke on it.