FET consult..Take 2

Today I found myself, once again, at the intersection of Hope and Fear.  After dropping off Miller for more school adventures, I flew home to pick up Pierce for our RE appointment, all the while jamming out to Adele on the highway.  Pierce doesn't get it, or maybe he does but he doesn't show it.  I'm just not sure.  Anyway, just going to the RE puts me in a tizzy.  I don't remember feeling that way the first time around, which makes sense since I didn't know fear then.  Everything has changed.

When we went to see the RE a month ago, I knew exactly why I was going.  Plain and simple, we were there to discuss our FET.  An FET consult turned into a four-option discussion with a whole lot of not-saying-but-knowing that our RE didn't want to do the FET.  I analyzed that visit for three weeks, trying to figure out his angle.  Was he afraid of getting a reputation for making babies with Downs?  I was pissed.  Pierce and I set up a phone consult with an RE at a clinic two states away who was willing to test Hope for chromosome anomalies.  And by willing to I mean, he was willing to charge us nearly as much as our fresh IVF cycle, make us travel to Colorado twice and repeat lots of testing, all the while making no promises that Hope would be viable.  Even our RE said that that option was ridiculous.

After major soul searching I called to schedule the appointment I had thought we were going to have a month earlier.  Not willing to get side-tracked, I firmly said, "Let's do this!"  Dr. B talked us through the process which, by the way, is easy-peasy compared to IVF.  There are still lots of unknowns, but at least we have taken a step forward.  No regrets.  I have a mock transfer next week, and then we wait for AF.

One other project on my plate that nearly blindsided me is that Pierce and I have to go to the lab where Hope is cryopreserved with a liquid nitrogen tank and two notarized consent forms.  We will pick her up and transport her to the new lab at the RE's office where he does all of his transfers now.  This freaks me out.  I am afraid that something I do will jeopardize her.  What if we get in an accident?  Somehow I feel like she should be transported more sophisticatedly, like by armored car or ambulance, by people who are trained to handle precious cargo.  And then I remember that we are her parents, and therefore, we are precisely the ones who should take care of her.  No one else will acknowledge the importance of that package, the dreams that are tucked inside.  On my next day off, we will get the tank and drive to the lab.  We will pick up Embryo C and drive her to the RE's office, and she will be one step closer to coming home.