Throwing a Hail Mary and Walking out with an Elmo Balloon

This is how I summed up my feelings about this round of IVF to Mr. T, while taking an extended drive on the turnpike, yesterday.  It followed a series of events that were frustrating and only now (with 24 hours of distance) funny. Let's start at the beginning.

We had a busy, but fun Easter Weekend. Saturday, we surprised Toddler T with tickets to see Sesame Street Live. The shrieks that he gave out when we told him were worth the price of our tickets.  It was everything I expected. I knew we'd walk out with overpriced souvenirs. I knew we'd end up buying snacks (even though I packed a fair amount). I knew he'd love it but struggle to make it through the entire show. It was precisely 5 minutes into to the second act when he looked at me and said, "Come on, Mommy, Let's go see something else." I told him that this was it. The SHOW is what we are seeing. Then he looked at me and said, "But I want a boon (balloon)." Crap. Oh no. Not that balloon. Not the Elmo balloon that had been paraded through the crowds at intermission. I read about those balloons and heard they are pricey. So, I distracted him with a soft pretzel. The show ended and Mr. T and I attempted to usher him to the car. Past the Boon Man. He asked again. Mr. T and I suddenly went deaf. Mr. T said, "If he asks again, we should just get him one." Now, so you don't think I'm a stingy mom. We had already picked up the Elmo binoculars (partly because I was so shocked my almost 3 year old asked for them with the correct name) AND an Elmo spinny-light thing. But, we heard the voice again. From high atop his daddy's shoulders, Toddler T asked and began pointing at the Boon Man. We divided and conquered. Mr. T to the car with him. I, to the Boon Man.

I had $4 dollars in my wallet. That should cover a Mylar balloon, right?

Wrong. The man looked at me and said, "$10." I responded that that is ridiculous and walked back to the car. Planning to tell Toddler T that we just weren't getting any. I was going to draw a line in the sand. I was going to stand my ground. I was going to bet my wedding ring that Mr. T would be outraged as well.  I got to the car and Toddler T asked for his Boon. I told him that we just didn't get it. Mr. T gave me a look and I said something about them being $10 and isn't that ridiculous and it was cash only anyway. But deep down inside, I knew, we'd be leaving with an Elmo Boon.

Out comes Mr. T's wallet and back across the parking lot I went to retrieve a $10 Elmo Boon. 

Four years ago, before I was pregnant, I would have thought that any parent that spends $10 on a balloon might have been an idiot. But, we're not. You only become the idiot when you give into every wish, demand, request, every time. I'm pretty sure we are not going to be at Sesame Street Live on a regular basis so I feel confidant that I didn't set a precedence that $10 balloons are the norm in the T household. 

On a much deeper note, I've started to believe that he will be our only child and wanting to take advantage of that. I'm sure people could think that I'm on my way to raising a child with no limits and won't his little world be rocked if he has to share it with a sibling. But I don't know that it will happen. I am dutifully saving his outgrown clothes for a future sibling. But the reality is, they may go to a friend or a consignment sale. It is such a challenging balance and I'm not sure I'm keeping my balance these days. So for now, maybe he is getting spoiled. My feeling is this, I will be consider myself a very lucky mother if the worst thing I deal with is getting him to adjust to a sibling.  

Dealing with my secondary fertility is all about balance and control. This past weekend was a great example of not being in control and trying to carry on like everything is perfectly normal. The T family had a low-key morning at home and then packed up to take a family trip to the RE's office. Mr. T played outside with Toddler T and his new Elmo binoculars while I went in.  

During the ultrasound, the doctor counted 4 follicles spread out through both sides. This was sad as, I seemed to have lost two in the past few days and not gained. I teared up a little bit and told him that I really wanted to go into egg retrieval with just a few more. He then asked me if I had filled the prescription for Ganirelix as I might need to start it that night. 

Um, no.  I didn't have it. I'm gun shy with ordering too many medications. There's no greater feeling of failure than looking at hundreds of dollars of medication that you aren't going to use because your cycle was cancelled. And then the next wave of panic came over me. If I actually needed to start the medication that night, EASTER SUNDAY, I was going to be in a bit of a bind.  The specialty pharmacy was CLOSED for Easter. So, what was I to do? Use the only pharmacy that was open within a 2 hour radius of where we were.  It was in the complete opposite direction from my parents' house.  I didn't really have a choice. Had I gone to my parents' without getting the medication my luck would have been that I needed it and then I wouldn't have access to it. 

It was when we got on the turnpike and I thought we had gotten on headed west and not east that I told Mr. T this felt like a Hail Mary. We had a very quiet drive to my parents'. How many times can you talk about the fears, the anxiety, the powerlessness and the uncontrollable? Sometimes I think we've hit our max. For right now, there's not much more to say or process. This will either work or it won't.

I'll know more tomorrow after my next ultrasound and will hope that my body has realized that theme of April is eggs. I will rest well knowing that whenever I need the Ganirelix, I'll have it safely in my fridge. Why, because after a few tense moments of getting our GPS to work, making a u-turn near the turnpike, driving an hour out of our way and keeping the Ganirelix cold, the nurse called. Didn't need to start it that night after all.