It's officially been two years now since DH and I tried IVF. I left that experience vowing to never have to go thru the pain and the heartache and the fear again. And God knows I've tried e v e r y t h i n g to get my body into healthy baby-making shape since then. I really thought I could do this on my own. Now I'm not so sure.
Let's see.... just what did I do to try and win back my fertility post-IVF? First, I signed on with a naturopathic nutritionist to detox my body of the evil fertility drugs. That involved driving over an hour to her office, choking down gallons of lemon-and-cayenne-pepper-water concoctions, and undergoing some very strange muscle testing to see which natural tinctures would benefit me best. Next, I paid a thousand bucks out of pocket to extract all my mercury-infused dental fillings and replace them with bright, non-toxic porcelain ones. Then I signed on with my fourth acupuncturist, because, you know, THIS is finally gonna be the one who gets it right. I even endured a five-hour long marathon NLP session, where the therapist regressed me back into some of the worst memories I've ever harbored, all in the name of clearing my sub-conscious of any obstacles. Oh, and on the more practical side of things, I also started seeing a new "integrative" doctor to see if her medical degree could help me balance those devious hormones.
So where did all of this get me? About seven grand in the hole. "But", I'd tell myself, "my cause is a noble one." After all, how can infertility survive in a body that is brimming with holistic, natural health? I was (and, to some degree, still am) dedicated to wiping out this "disease" from my body—without the help of artificial drugs or artificial ART or artificial anything! That, and I wanted nothing more than to march into my old RE's office with a protruding belly and an outstretched middle finger.
But now I'm getting desperate. My 39th birthday is around the corner (...aargh, birthdays...), and I feel no closer to pregnancy than I am to ever being carded again. So ART it is? I tell ya, I am sooo not looking forward to all the anxiety-inducing appointments, the needles (the fat one and the skinny one), the $200 bottles of progesterone, the bills (oh... the bills), the lying to my boss about yet another "dentist appointment", and finally, the make-or-break phone call that comes at the end of it all.
But what I am looking forward to? Snuggling a warm, cuddly little human in my arms someday.