Tedious Reproductive Update: Part Two.

Sorry for the two-part post, but the recounting of my appointment got longer than expected and I simply could not subject my fine readers to such a thing all in one sitting. Someone may make the point that if they are so tedious, perhaps my reproductive updates are best kept to myself, but I would have that person briskly drawn and quartered before clearing my virtual throat to continue.
Ahrrmhphrm.

So. Last Wednesday, Dr. Doctor, Scott, and I embarked on the obligatory discussion of the particulars of our upcoming IVF cycle. There was a lot of ground to cover—who gets any remaining embryos if I die, if Scott dies, if we both die, or if Scott leaves me for one of his nubile students; whether to use ICSI or Assisted Hatching; and just how overstimulated will they let me get before they call the whole thing off?
Two particularly notable things came out of our conversation:

I will be seeing a hematologist to discuss heparin therapy for my next pregnancy, because upon further perusal of my test results, I noticed a borderline activated protein C resistance ratio (which can indicate clotting problems).

We will be transferring two embryos on day three.

This last item represents a rather stark departure from the plan made when Scott and I first contemplated IVF, in January. Our original intent had been to transfer one day five blastocyst. Neither of us are especially enamored of the idea of twins (me because of the high-risk pregnancy and potential overwhelm of caring for two infants, Scott because he doesn’t want them to have a “creepy twin language”–obviously his priorities are in excellent order), and this seemed like the sensible thing to do. Taking our embryos to blast would enable us to choose the very best one, and ensure a reasonable chance of pregnancy. If it didn’t work, well, we’d just try again, as we planned on purchasing the shared risk program that includes three fresh cycles and all associated frozen embryo transfers.

As it happens, the things we thought we would do in a potential IVF cycle changed rather dramatically when the cycle stopped being hypothetical. The first thing to go was the shared risk program. After discussion with someone more skilled at financial management than I (which, come to think of it, could be anyone) it became obvious that this particular shared risk program wasn’t much of a deal, especially if we aren’t sure that we would stay with our current clinic for subsequent cycles. I’m not going to go into all of the financial particulars because I have a long day ahead of me and I need to stay awake for the rest of it, but suffice it to say we have enough insurance coverage not to go into debt for this cycle, but if our first attempt fails it will be quite a while before we can afford another fresh IVF.

IVF didn’t seem particularly intimidating from far away, but as it comes closer I’ve begun to panic ever so slightly, paying particular attention to my bizarre fear that the drug side effects will unhinge me and Scott will be forced to keep me in the attic all Bertha-like. IVF is a grueling process, involving time off from work and massive emotional and physical stress. Combine my nerves with the financial burden, and suddenly the pressure of this cycle seems enormous. From the far-away vantage point of January, it was easy to tell myself that the first round is diagnostic, but now that I’m within two weeks of my inaugural Lupron shot, I am consumed by a fervent, useless wish for first time success. I feel embarrassed even typing that, but there you are.

Scott and I firmly believe that a singleton birth is the most desirable outcome of an IVF cycle. If we end up with twins we wouldn’t leave one on the side of a mountain or dump it in the river with a rock around it’s middle, but we would much prefer to have our children one at a time, thank you very much. There is a perception that infertiles who get pregnant should be properly grateful, regardless of the circumstances, but I don’t think it is selfish to want to spare my children an increased risk of cerebal palsy and other disabilities. 50% of twins are born prematurely, and while the idea of completing your family with one cycle is tempting, caring for even two healthy babies at once seems horribly difficult.

But, wheedles the other half of my brain, after this cycle we will have no insurance coverage for future attempts. Can we really pin all our hopes on a single blastocyst? My pregnancy track record is not good—having had three miscarriages, it is hard to believe we will end up with two live babies. Besides, twins have their good points: one can mix me a drink while the other makes me a sandwich! One can wash while the other dries!

Unfortunately, the idea of transferring two blastocysts wasn’t much more enticing than transferring only one. There would be a much higher success rate, but in my age category, it is my understanding that we would have a 50% chance of twins. That is awfully high. Our fears of NICU stays and the increased risk for gestational diabetes and post-partum depression make it difficult for us to knowingly take such a gamble.

Reading the above six paragraphs should make it abundantly clear why insurance coverage for IVF is so important. Decisions regarding acceptable risk in infertility treatment will always be difficult, but they should not be driven by finances. Period.

For me and Scott, the decision got suddenly much easier when Dr. Doctor suggested we do a three-day transfer. I was shocked, to say the least. The advantages of day five (blastocyst) transfer have been trumpeted far and wide, and one gets the sense that nobody who is anybody transfers embryos anymore. However my clinic’s embryologist is excellent—award-winning, even—and apparently he is starting to back away from blastocysts.
Dr. Doctor highly recommended we transfer our two best day three embryos, and for once in my life, I am going to trust that someone may know more about something than I do. Transferring two embryos on day three gives us a 50% chance of pregnancy with a 30% chance of twins, numbers with which we are much more comfortable. So that is what we will do.

The fact that the decision is made doesn’t mean I will stop endlessly questioning it, obviously. Fish gotta swim, birds gotta fly, etc.