Flashback: October 29th, 2013. I had recently finished another IVF cycle. Our third.
My husband, let’s call him RH, and I were sitting in the
office of Dr. Taylor, our fertility doctor. It was a sunny but cool day. It was
warm inside Dr. Taylor’s office, though. Too warm. I hadn’t taken my winter jacket
off, though I opened the front zipper. The sun was streaming through the glass
wall. The warmth reminded me of siesta time when I was a little girl in the
Philippines. The warmth felt very familiar and so was the disappointment.
Two weeks before our visit with Dr. Taylor, the verdict was
in. The pregnancy test was negative. Again. I should say this was not a
surprise. Based on our experience in the first and second IVF cycles, my ovaries
were not responding well. A higher dosage was prescribed in the third IVF cycle
but the number of ova or egg cells was still quite measly. This confirmed my
suspicion that I have very low ovarian reserve. It’s not rocket science really.
I was 40 then and I just turned 41 January of this year. What did I expect?
RH and I have always liked Dr. Taylor. An intelligent woman with a gift in making complex concepts easy to understand, she has always
been honest and open with us. Whenever we asked a question that she
didn’t know the answer to, she told us. Like the other doctors, nurses, and staff in
that fertility clinic, Dr. Taylor has shown us great compassion and empathy
throughout our whole journey. Most of all she has always been very patient with
us. My husband and I are probably some of the geekiest patients Dr. Taylor has ever encountered. We would ask her about
the veracity of the information we have researched on our own. We sought her
opinion and respected her insights. I think that she might have enjoyed our
geekiness a little! She wrote a blog (aptly entitled "Stats 101") that included RH’s probability
computation.
Dr. Taylor’s recommendation was for us to seriously consider an egg donor program. Essentially, this means using another woman’s (a
younger woman’s) eggs. Using RH’s sperm, an embryo will be later transferred to
my uterus. In some circumstances, a family member or a close friend could
potentially donate eggs to an infertile woman. R and I don’t know anyone who
could do that for us. I mean, I have friends and relatives in the Philippines who
would probably offer us their ova. Or at least, consider it. But they are on
the other side of the Pacific Ocean. It’s just not logistically possible. Since
buying and selling ova is not allowed in Canada, our best option was to go to a
fertility clinic in Seattle.
As Dr. Taylor was handing us the brochures of possible
clinics in Seattle, I burst into tears! RH held my left hand and squeezed it
tight.
“It’s okay,” he assured me. “We’ll try again, Sweetie,”
“I know,” I replied while wiping my nose. “That’s not why I’m
crying.”
Dr. Taylor and RH looked at me kindly but with perplexed
looks on their faces. They probably thought I was devastated by the failure of yet another IVF cycle. I had accepted that fact. I was ready to move on to the next chapter. I was crying because I was going to miss the people at the clinic!
