Performance anxiety

Ok, keeping it short and sweet people. (MasterChef, get your hooks out of me!)

Right, so these may not be the most helpful thoughts at this particular juncture, given that I shall be having my first frozen embryo transfer in less than 48 hours, but they are nonetheless flying about in the flotsam of my mind right now...and they are honest.

Firstly, and this has always been in the back of my mind: T got pregnant first go with Jay when she went through IVF three years ago.

She is three years older than me and had two embryos put in as a result. One morphed into the mysterious ether of non-existence, the other became Jay.

So, if my memories of Year 9 debating serve me, the negative in the argument That Bec Should Be In A Pregnancy Competition With Her Partner would say that, no, so much more was riding on that initial transfer for T. Um, there was no fall-back, no Plan B. The only "try again" option we had was to start a whole new round of IVF...injections, ovary stimulation, hormones, egg pick-up and all. For that reason, and many others we will never know, that one spectacular embryo stuck. Apart from that, and this would be the sting in the third speaker's summation, competition is stupid unless you are in the Olympics. Get over yourself, Leo.

The affirmative, however, would postulate that, damn straight, it happened first go for her: you are both healthy and committed in a stable, supportive and loving relationship - why the hell should it not happen first go for you? You have every right to be disappointed now that hasn't been the case. You should feel indignant that history has not repeated. Why? No one can answer that, but don't feel bad for asking, or even thinking about the answers to, that question.

And you know one other massive reason to get pregnant ASAP? It pains me to say it, but economics clouds so much of our lives, especially when you feel so stretched each week that you are nearly transparent.

The cost.

According to a forum post T found this morning, the charge for a natural frozen embryo transfer cycle with a clinic in another state is apparently $2350. Estimated out of pocket costs are $941...but there is some potential issue with Medicare over rebate amounts (isn't there always?).

So, that was today's little surprise. Each frozen transfer is going to cost about a grand.

So what? And I understand that - I feel that way too. What is money when you are talking about creating a new life who will walk this Earth and bless our family with his or her laughter, anger, opinions, flair, love and so much more? This is the path we have chosen of our own free will, we knew it would be expensive. I get that alright!

But I can't help the anxiety. Huh, and you can write that one down to hand to the stonemason, cos that one's going on my headstone. That's if I was going to be buried, and I am not. **Stream of consciousness alert: I want to be cremated cos I read a book ages ago about all these graves in olde England...and you know I'm talking a long time ago, cos I put an E on the end of old. But not that old that England gets an E, as in Englande. That would just be stupid. Anyway, they used to tie a piece of string around the fingers of the bodies when they buried them and run that string all the way to the top of the earth, attached to a bell in the headstone. Apparently, in OLDE England (or some such place wherever it was) there was quite a problem with the burying of people alive. Now that right there is one of my worst, WORST, fears. Yes, it's as irrational as my fear of spiders, Tony Abbott's ears and the ability of a man like George Bush to attain the office of president. And you know what they say about tying string around your finger - that's how you remember stuff, you don't forget it. Frankly, I would have thought tying a piece of string around your finger would remind you pretty damn smartly to take the freaking thing off as surely it would cut off some sort of circulation, right? Anyhoo, I will never forget the olde England buried alive reference. Hell, it could have been fiction...could have been some Mary Higgins Clark hoodoo...but it struck a very strange, probably flat, chord in my crazy mind. For a split second, I did question the logistics of such finger-tying of string...how to ensure it remained intact linking body and bell, why you wouldn't completely freak out as soon as you saw someone coming towards you with a ball of string, a pine box and a shovel etc ("Here they come! Those dodgy undertakers who are a little too enthusiastic about their jobs! Run!!"), but the fear removed logic from any talk of logistics. So, with that in mind, there is no way I am going to be buried six feet under. Nope, disco inferno all the way for me, baby. **Meanwhile, back at the ranch.

Look, that anxiety is not huge, it doesn't now taint my every waking moment. But it is there.

Just another speck of dust on my mountain of insecurity/uncertainty.