Throwing Hot Rocks

Sarah: I don't know if I should stay for one or two nights at this girl's weekend thing...

Rob: You need two nights. And also... you need someone to throw hot rocks at you.

Rob doesn't understand spa treatments. His interpretation of a "Hot Stone Massage" is... "You really want someone to throw hot rocks at you?" But he does like the version of his wife after spa treatments. The version of his wife that has existed lately has been a little bit bananas.

We can't afford to move on to shots. Shots cost more than my morgtage costs each month. Even if we did have the money to throw at shots, it'd make me sick to spend it. So we have One and One-Quarter medicated cycles left. And we have no more visits to Dr. Steingold. Because my insurance company decided last week that they are Done paying for me to see Dr. Steingold. I have been Diagnosed. I am Infertile. And they only pay for you to be diagnosed. If I had complications, like ovarian cysts, they'd keep paying. I have lazy but healthy ovaries. And Anthem has no soul.

At first I was kind of ok with being done with the treatment part of this adventure. But I think I was just numb. I was trying to logic my way into giving up hope. I was strong, and mighty, and beautifully numb. It worked for 1.5 days. Unfortunately, the anesthesia wore off and there was lots of crying last night. Out of nowhere. I wasn't even expecting it. Poor Rob.
But we talked it out and we have a plan. As ridiculous as Rob thinks it is to have a plan for when the real plan (get pregnant) fails.

Rob: Do you think that football teams make contengency plans for what they'll do if their star player gets injured and then needs surgery and then can't come back for 8 games? What if he can't play for 6 games? Do they know who will play what position, and who's contract they'll renew?
Sarah: Um... yeah... why not?

Maybe sports analogies are lost on me. Let's think about BP. Maybe they needed a backup plan for their backup plan. Maybe they should employ some infertiles to play the "What IF?" game.

So I'm trying to still have a healthy amount of hope for these last two rounds. I wish I could scoop hope out and stir it into me... maybe half a teaspoon at a time. One teaspoon might be too strong.

The backup plan is this: Sarah will keep taking prenatal vitamins, but will not take ovulation tests. And we won't be charting or timing to the exact day or obsessing or focusing. And maybe sometime in the next 13 years a baby will appear in my uterus. Maybe not. I think this attitude will take some getting used to. I am not a go-with-the-flow kind of gal. Maybe there's a lesson in here somewhere...