Day 18: The Catholic Problem

I had a hard time going to sleep last night.

Leah is feeling well. She went to work this morning without problem, and was tired when she came home and immediately took a nap.

I've been worried about our embryos. I'm worried about money. I'm worried about what Leah's father asked after the procedure.

After Leah's last bloodwork came back in, the doctor assured us that we'd be freezing our embryos and be doing an embryo transfer after Leah's next cycle. But after the egg retrieval, the nurse set up an appointment for an embryo transfer this week. She said that they'd schedule the transfer in case there are embryos that "don't look like they'll make it" though the freezing process.

My dad worked in the insurance industry for 25 years. He worked with doctors every day and has grown skeptical of them over the years. He looks at them more as small-business owners (which they are) than as medical professionals with an interest in their patients' health (which they also are). When I paid over two thousand dollars for medical testing, he accused our doctor of a "cash grab." I assured him that a third party performed the testing (and was paid for it), and he repeated his accusation. When I paid another five hundred dollors for a second round of blood tests, for HIV and hepititis (something that United Blood Services performs for free every twelve weeks when I give blood), it was another "cash grab." And it's not just with doctors. When his dog came back from the vet with some elevated liver enzymes, he accused the vet of a "cash grab."

In the course of the paperwork Leah filled out before the egg retrieval, there was a waiver acknowledgeing that our doctor has a financial interest in the Outpatient Surgery Center. At the time, I thought that cut both ways. He makes money with the success of the center, but also is financially liable when things go wrong. This was different.

I looked at the paperwork we were given during our IVF seminar. Among the many, many papers were the cost sheet. When we got it, we were shocked at the bottom line. I was starting to feel like we were getting a good value with the daily blood draws and ultrasounds in the final week of the cycle. Now I looked more closely at how much the individual procedures cost. The embryo implantation costs three thousand dollars.

I don't want to call Fertility Treatment Center and ask them if Saturday's procedure "counts" as our embryo transfer for this cycle. In part this is because the business side and the medical side of the Fertility Treatment Center are sealed from one another. When I ask our IFV Coordinator how much something costs, she directs me to the Business Center. I wish that our nurses were more sympathetic to the costs of the process, but I also hope that they are not allowing cost to dictate care.

But cost is a factor. I do not want to explain this to our IVF coordinator. I'm not sure we can raise another sizable amount in two months to complete a real embryo transfer. I'm not sure that Leah could handle another failure.

The embryo transfer procedure this month would not stand a large chance of success, even as these things go. Leah's body has been wrung from the inside out. The embryos the doctors would be transferring would be by definition of the lowest surviving quality. Leah and I have tried to keep cost from being an issue. We've been fortunate to have family generous enough and able to give us a loan to go through this cycle. But we cannot afford to throw money away, or to throw bad money after good.

I am not Catholic. Leah was raised Catholic, but hasn't attended church in all the time I've known her. She was never confirmed because her mother was feuding with the leader of the confirmation program over some overnight lockdown when Leah had some kind of marching band performance. But so much work has gone into making these embryos that I can't help but think of them as my children. Already. Calling them embryos hasn't helped because they're still just future children, and the definition game doesn't seem to work when the embryos are yours. I consider myself pro-choice. So does Leah. At one point in our lives, we would have made such a choice (had we been able to make one). I would never tell anyone what to do with their embryos or their bodies.

But these are our embryos. The doctors say that transfering the embryos and having them implant could make Leah "really sick." The doctors say that the embryos transferred probably wouldn't survive, anyway. Leah doesn't want to go through the embryo transfer, and I don't want her to have to go through it.

But the procedure is scheduled. The nurse told Leah that they might not know if they'll perform the transfer "until she's on the table." What I want is to call Fertility Treatment Center and cancel the embryo transfer, no matter what.

But isn't there a chance? A chance those embryos could survive? That these are the embryos that Leah is (somehow) supposed to raise? The embryos are viable in some way. Could I make that call to cancel the transfer? What happens to those embryos after the call?

The worst part of me imagines a technician scraping the petri dish into a garbage can and tossing it into a sink like I do with leftover chicken cesar salad.

Months ago, Leah and I started praying every night before we fall asleep. When we pray, I ask God to give our doctors wisdom and skill in persuing our cycle. Now, I'm praying for God to watch over our embryos, and to give me wisdom. And patience.