On Friday Jon and I met with our primary doctor, so that some of Jon's tests to figure out what's going on with his sperm would be covered by insurance. Not surprisingly, she's not really well-versed in this, so she ordered the tests that RE mentioned and gave us a referral to a urologist. We're hoping to get Jon's test results back today, but the urology office scheduled Jon's appointment for November 26.
Yes, November 26, as in 3 months from now. I found this out last night, after we had arrived home following my grandpa's funeral. Part if me is just so sad, deflated and defeated. Part of me just wants to give in and stop treatments; that we're being told by the universe that we will never bring home another child, so I should just stop trying. Another part of me says that's all a bunch of crap, and I wouldn't have had a chemical pregnancy if we should stop trying. Jon's going to try to get on a cancellation list to get an appointment earlier, but right now I'm just sad. I'm sad that we lost Firefly. I'm sad that Jon's counts are wonky. I'm sad that we're not pregnant. I'm sad that I have to entertain the option of stopping treatments. I'm sad that Gus may never have the experience of having a living sibling.
I hate this. I hate that everything has to be so difficult just to have a child. I want another child, and I don't know why we can't.