So I report back to Manly what the doctor said…
Me: Blah, blah, blah.
Him: Shaking head and nodding understanding.
Me: [Thinking we’re on the same page] So, I guess I’m ready to just go on and do IUI next cycle.
Him: I’m not.
Me: [Inside my head] Fuck.
Now I don’t know what we’re going to do. I managed to contain my scream of frustration and didn’t demand an answer immediately, because I knew that would have just started a fight. I’m going to let it sit for a week or so, and let him think about it, and then push for some kind of answer or reasoning. If he’s not ready, that’s fine. I can deal with that. But I want to know why he’s not ready, or what he’s planning on doing. I can’t take it when he leaves me in limbo like this. I need to know what direction we’re going in: stopping treatment and moving to child-free living, taking a break for a while, or just trying a few more rounds with a different drug. But without some kind of plan, I’ll go insane.
Update: Just spoke with the pharmacy — my insurance doesindeed cover injectibles. So if we need to go that route, it’s covered.
Updating again, because I have to get this out. Manly called at lunch. The head gasket in our overly-expensive-17-year-old-sports-car blew out, which is a pain, but not unexpected. However, instead of just fixing the gasket, he wants to spend over $10,000 to completely rebuild the whole engine. I’m trying to figure out how to hold my temper in check, because there is no way in hell we’re spending that much money on his toy when we could spend less and end up doing IVF and having a baby. And yes, he does have another car, so it’s not an immediate necessity to work on the car. I’m so pissed off, I can’t see straight.
Outlandish Notions 