No, I'm not pregnant.
My husband has a balanced translocation.
Last night Dr Calm called at about 5:30, and got a hold of my husband to tell him that he has a balanced translocation, and we need to figure out our next steps in light of the next IVF.
Oy. I'm in shock. My husband was oddly relieved; relieved to know that there is a reason all of this has been so hard. But, as of last night, he didn't feel extremely distressed. He's never been as tied up in all of this genetic stuff as I have, nor does he have a deep sense of defectiveness like I do, so who knows, maybe this won't hit him as hard as it hits me. He may feel differently as time goes on (I mean in the immediate sense). Basically,if this was going to happen to one of us, he's probably the one who can handle it with less drama and pain. Oy.
The recommendation is to do one more mutually genetic IVF, but do PGD on our embryos to see if any are normal and to transfer those. And if none are normal, to move on to IUI with donor sperm.
Ugh. Honestly, this makes me feel sick. Just sick. I am so disoriented.
I am wracked with so much sadness. With all of the grieving I've done about my own loss of a genetic tie, you'd think I'd be relieved that 'whoo hoo! my genes are still in the mix!" Surprisingly, I just want him--I don't want no stinkin' substitute.
Have I ever told you how much I love this man? I love everything about him, from his wacky curly hair to his big brown eyes, to his slender body, to his meaty hands and feet. I love the way he smells, and thinks. I love how loving he is, what a good good person he is, how kind he is, how wickedly funny he is. I love his eyelashes. I love his nose. I tell him that he is beautiful, which he tolerates, but he really is beautiful.
I feel like I took in all that his family is, the schizophrenic great uncle, the nutty and abusive great grandparents, the tendency for rocacia, being sweaty sleepers, and on and on and I said "all of this is distilled in you, and you are magnificent, and I want to know what will happen if we bring my brand of wacky together with yours." And now I have to adjust to the idea that that experiment is pretty unlikely to take place. PGD could pull off a miracle for us, but at this point, we only have one shot, and that means that the odds are low.
Now, just because he has a translocation, doesn't mean I'm 25, and my eggs are guaranteed to do anything other than divide oddly, even with the help of someone else's sperm. Ugh.
Ya know, I was feeling pretty fuckin' happy, and now I'm kinda fucked up again. Ugh.
We had some good laughs last night. As many of you know, he's Jewish. He said "You can have the best of both worlds, me and a nice Jewish boy who went to Harvard and became a doctor and made his mother proud." He also said, being a Jew, he feels like he's pulling from the team--we laughed that it was sort of a twist on the biblical practice of taking your brothers widow as a wife concept. Ugh. High tech sperm widow. That's me. I pointed out that 'man in a can' can be gotten from anywhere, so we an search NY/Tri-state sperm banks and get the cream of the crop. Ew.
If the IVF doesn't work, we get donor sperm and do an IUI or two, and then move onto IVF again. Oh lord. I just don't want any of this. I feel numb.
(Oh, and sister in law, if you read my blog, please don't tell your mom. Your brother wants to do that himself. Please feel free to call).
Thank you so much to everyone who commented on my last post. I thought a lot about what all of you said.
My therapist and I were talking about my relationship to motherhood, and how for at least 20 years it has been another form of competition with my mother, to prove I could do it better than she did, and to re-mother myself through my own child. As you can imagine, this would have been ok in some ways, but a total train wreck in others. Ultimately what was missing from that vision is me as the mother to my own unique children, with a side benefit of healing some of my own wounds. My own wounds were front and center, and this was a huge part of how I organized myself psychically in relation to mothering. The loss of that narcissistic connection, meaning it is easier to make a 'mini me' out of a genetic child than a non genetic child, freed me up to consider where could I stand, and where did I want to stand in relation to mothering. So that's a plus.
Can anyone come and fix my wonderful husband's chromosomes? 'Cause honestly, that is all I really want.