the acupuncturist. I tried everything. But did I? Did I really?
I felt itâthe twinge of implantation. I actually felt it.
Good morning, babies . I had the exquisite pleasure of greeting my babies-to-be each day. I was hopeful and shameless.
I ran into an acquaintance on the street. He was in the mood for a chat.
âHowâs things?
âHard. With the IVF.
âI heard you were doing that. How many tries did you do?
âTwo IUIâs and six egg collections plus transfers.
âThatâs hard.
âYes.
âWell, I have friends who did it twenty times and in the end they had a child. It was a real victory. Itâs worth it if you keep going. Are you going to try again?
âProbably not. I donât really want to talk about it.
âI have a picture of their kid. Do you want to see it?
âNo.
âThereâs a guy who went to Thailand, a rich Japanese guy, and he had fifteen children. Used surrogates.
âHe wanted to father fifteen children?
âHe said he needs them.
âOh.
âHaving a kid isnât always that great. My son hardly ever calls me. So with the IVFâ
âSorry, I donât want to talk about it.
That night I had a horrible dream in which I told a woman, a mother of four, that my final attempt didnât work. âItâs a heartbreaking pity, a heartbreaking pity,â she said. And she kept repeating, âItâs a heartbreaking pityâ with a sliver of glee. âWhat a heartbreaking pity.â I shrank from her mummy- schadenfreude .
I felt so sad when I had to tell Elsie that qcumber was spelled âcucumber.â In other words, the world does not make sense.
We talked about her birthday cake. We could make a marshmallow cake. âAnd a flower cake, a remote control cake, a sofa cake, and a shoe cake,â she added.
My pregnancy test fell just before Fatherâs Day. I knew this because The Morning Show on the TV in the waiting room was devoted to a Fatherâs Day special. I thought about the Taoist parable of a man who wouldnât be angry if an empty boat collided with his own skiff but if he saw a man in the boat then he would shout and be angry at that man. Iâd long understood it to mean that if you were hit by empty circumstances then there was no cause for angerâfate, so be itâand you should apply this samemonkish acceptance to those circumstances in which you could identify whom or what had hit you. But in fact, no. The parable goes on to say that if you can empty your own boat crossing the river of the world then no one will oppose or seek to harm you. It was hard then and itâs hard now, emptying the boats.
Rebecca asked me if Iâd done a test at home. No.
âHave you had a bleed?
âNo.
âI donât want to be a Negative Nancy but sometimes the progesterone can stop you getting your period.
She took my blood. Careful, gentle. As I was leaving I stopped by the door.
âThank you. I donât think Iâll be seeing you again. Thanks for all your help. You were great.
My eyes flushed with tears, hers too.
âItâs been my pleasure.
Reprieve or delight, reprieve or delight. While waiting for the nurses to call I tried to fool myself with a win-win outcome. Iâd arranged to spend the day with my sister. When the phone rang I picked it up as if it were hot to the touch. And learned I was pregnant. I canât remember exactly how the nurse phrased it, something like, âItâs a positive result but itâs not clear. You have an hCG level of 10.5, which is very low. Your progesterone is 75, which is good. Youâll need to come back in for another test on Monday.â
Her news was confounding. I knew the hormone hCG (human chorionic gonadotropin) was produced by the embryo and measured in a pregnancy test but I didnât realize the test could be unclear.
âWell, what would you call a good level of hCG at this
I felt itâthe twinge of implantation. I actually felt it.
Good morning, babies . I had the exquisite pleasure of greeting my babies-to-be each day. I was hopeful and shameless.
I ran into an acquaintance on the street. He was in the mood for a chat.
âHowâs things?
âHard. With the IVF.
âI heard you were doing that. How many tries did you do?
âTwo IUIâs and six egg collections plus transfers.
âThatâs hard.
âYes.
âWell, I have friends who did it twenty times and in the end they had a child. It was a real victory. Itâs worth it if you keep going. Are you going to try again?
âProbably not. I donât really want to talk about it.
âI have a picture of their kid. Do you want to see it?
âNo.
âThereâs a guy who went to Thailand, a rich Japanese guy, and he had fifteen children. Used surrogates.
âHe wanted to father fifteen children?
âHe said he needs them.
âOh.
âHaving a kid isnât always that great. My son hardly ever calls me. So with the IVFâ
âSorry, I donât want to talk about it.
That night I had a horrible dream in which I told a woman, a mother of four, that my final attempt didnât work. âItâs a heartbreaking pity, a heartbreaking pity,â she said. And she kept repeating, âItâs a heartbreaking pityâ with a sliver of glee. âWhat a heartbreaking pity.â I shrank from her mummy- schadenfreude .
I felt so sad when I had to tell Elsie that qcumber was spelled âcucumber.â In other words, the world does not make sense.
We talked about her birthday cake. We could make a marshmallow cake. âAnd a flower cake, a remote control cake, a sofa cake, and a shoe cake,â she added.
My pregnancy test fell just before Fatherâs Day. I knew this because The Morning Show on the TV in the waiting room was devoted to a Fatherâs Day special. I thought about the Taoist parable of a man who wouldnât be angry if an empty boat collided with his own skiff but if he saw a man in the boat then he would shout and be angry at that man. Iâd long understood it to mean that if you were hit by empty circumstances then there was no cause for angerâfate, so be itâand you should apply this samemonkish acceptance to those circumstances in which you could identify whom or what had hit you. But in fact, no. The parable goes on to say that if you can empty your own boat crossing the river of the world then no one will oppose or seek to harm you. It was hard then and itâs hard now, emptying the boats.
Rebecca asked me if Iâd done a test at home. No.
âHave you had a bleed?
âNo.
âI donât want to be a Negative Nancy but sometimes the progesterone can stop you getting your period.
She took my blood. Careful, gentle. As I was leaving I stopped by the door.
âThank you. I donât think Iâll be seeing you again. Thanks for all your help. You were great.
My eyes flushed with tears, hers too.
âItâs been my pleasure.
Reprieve or delight, reprieve or delight. While waiting for the nurses to call I tried to fool myself with a win-win outcome. Iâd arranged to spend the day with my sister. When the phone rang I picked it up as if it were hot to the touch. And learned I was pregnant. I canât remember exactly how the nurse phrased it, something like, âItâs a positive result but itâs not clear. You have an hCG level of 10.5, which is very low. Your progesterone is 75, which is good. Youâll need to come back in for another test on Monday.â
Her news was confounding. I knew the hormone hCG (human chorionic gonadotropin) was produced by the embryo and measured in a pregnancy test but I didnât realize the test could be unclear.
âWell, what would you call a good level of hCG at this
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