GrandMa’ SuperHero by Sacha Goldberger
Well, the good news is, um, it's summer-y. The bad news is that there is no embryo willing to develop inside of me. Rounds 3 and 4 have proved as unsuccessful as the first, and though I have had the pleasure to lie on my back repeatedly throughout the last couple of months, that has mostly meant with my legs in stirrups.
Last attempt we upped our game. This meant a new drug, a more expensive drug, that I get to administer myself. Daily. Via a shot in my gut. Who knew I would have a second career as a phlebotomist? My boyfriend couldn't even watch. But that wasn't the worst part. Besides not getting knocked up–my darling little pair of ovaries decided to do very little despite all the designer drugs coaxing them–I suffered 3 breakups, 4 melt-downs, and at least 1 full-on, snot-dripping tantrum in the Trader Joe's parking lot.
Needless to say, we are taking a month off from it all. In the mean time, I am looking into assisted reproductive science as they like to call it, in other, more affordable countries i.e. those on the verge of collapse. And yes, Greece, is at the very top of that list.
* Translation from Greek: The least bad choice is the best.
