After about an hour drive north to my fertility clinic, I park the car and take the stairs up to the second floor. When I reach the secretary, I always have to repeat my name multiple times because "Rachel" is pronounced ::throaty sound:: "Rahhhhel" and my last name "Frick" sounds more like "Freak" when they say it. I refuse to say either name like them. Sometimes I just tell them my birthday because I don't feel like repeating or spelling anymore.
Step 1: Wait on bench in hallway.
Step 2: Give blood sample.
Step 3: Wait 1 hour for results.
During this one hour waiting period I like to go to Starbucks and walk around the Freiburg train station to kill some time. I'm still 12 years old and I think coffee tastes icky so I usually just get a hot chocolate. I tried the "Pumpkin Spice Latte" one day because everyone flips their shit when this time of year comes around because "it's baaack" but I don't see what all the fuss is about. Why does everyone feel the need to take pictures of it with different filters on Instagram? Give me a "Zimtschnecke" any day though! (Zimtschnecke - "Cinnamon snail" - Cinnamon roll).
After an hour passes, I check back in and the secretary tells me to take a seat in the waiting room.
Oh no...the waiting room...::gulp::
I walk slowly down the hall and peak around the corner. Phew! Empty. Once there, I wait about another 15-20 minutes alone before they call my name - "Frau Freak?" ::eye roll:: I round the corner into the doctor's office. She is sitting across from me at her desk next to her computer and my file is open in front of her. I try to read her face before taking a seat but I get nothing. (Germans have chronic poker face.)
After some small talk, she leads me into the adjoining room and instructs: "Take off your undertrousers." Up until that last sentence our conversation has been in German. I'm surprised but when I close the curtain the get undressed I smile to myself because I've never heard the word "undertrousers" before. I repeat it in my head. Where did she learn that word? Is it British English? Should I correct her? Naaaah. Instead, I make a mental note to start using it at home with a British accent. "Hey Ed! Do you fancy my new undertrousers?" "Do you think I look fit in these undertrousers?"
I sit down and "assume the position."
When I say I have to get an ultrasound each time, it's not the cute kind that they use on pregnant women's bellies. You know, the one where they use a little bit of gel? The one in the holder next to the keyboard in this picture? No, each time I go, I get an "internal" ultrasound...with the rod looking thing that extends to the monitor screen. Pleasant, right?
Through this process we see that for the FIFTH TIME the eggs still aren't mature enough to be harvested. I get dressed (put back on my undertrousers) and we meet again at her desk in the other room. At this point in time I am trying to comprehend how this could be true. Why are the eggs not maturing? I'm doing the injections precisely as instructed. What else could I possibly be doing wrong?
My blood results from that morning still aren't back yet so she tells me to take a seat in the waiting room again. I round the corner obediently...only this time, I didn't prepare myself for it to be occupied. There is another woman sitting across from me at about my 10 o'clock with a round, gravid belly and I cringe.
"Don't look at it, Rachel. Don't look at her. Keep your eyes on the piece of square tile in front of your feet."
I busy myself with my purse, searching for the tissues that I knew to pack earlier this morning in case I didn't get the news I was hoping for. I can feel my eyes burning as the tears start to form. I keep my eyes closed because another pregnant woman has entered the waiting room and I just can't stand the sight of another pregnant belly in my face right now. So I sit there, with my head tilted back against the wall, and let the tears roll down silently. I don't bother to wipe them until they are gathered under my chin. The other women here probably think I'm nuts but I don't give a what.
Down the hallway I hear another ultra sound machine start up and the static sound of gel being placed on the probe. Then it starts, the rhythmic heartbeat of a baby. Based on my expertise, I'd say it's a healthy heart frequency of about 130. It's a sweet sound...but the baby is in someone else's belly...not mine. And I ache.
"Rachel, thou shalt not covet. Don't listen to it. It will be over any second."
But the beat continues. Would it be too much if I curled up in a ball in a corner with my eyes closed and my fingers stuck in my ears rocking back and forth and humming until my name was called? It's been said before but people with infertility issues should have the option of a separate waiting room. At this point, the room I'm picturing includes padded walls.
I resist the urge to scream because I figure they might change their minds on helping us get pregnant if they think I'm a nutcase. That or I will have psychologists/social workers breathing down my neck the whole time, and we don't want that now, do we? I try to pull it together before the doctor finally meets with me again. She says my hormone levels are ok and gives me a few more prescription papers. I don't even have to look at them, I already know they're for more shots...and more shots equal more money. As I take the prescriptions from her hand I can hear my bank account emptying like a toilet flushing.
After this short encounter I have to return to the secretary counter and make another appointment in 3-4 days. As we try to coordinate days and times the tears start to stream again this was supposed to be my last exam before the retrieval. I tried to hide them from the doctor but I get the feeling the secretaries know I'm unstable and report back to the doc. You think German is an ugly language? You should hear the way it sounds when you have and big lump in your throat and you're trying hard not to burst out into tears. Not pretty.
I finally exit, call for the elevator, and begin to hyperventilate. Just as the elevator arrives another man joins me. He greets me but I can't look him in the eye. Instead, I bolt for the stairwell where I let it all out just as the door closes behind me. My cries are extra loud as they bounce of the narrow walls but at least I'm alone. I have to wait until I no longer feel dizzy to go down the stairs. Wouldn't want a broken arm on top of all these issues...
I walk blurry-eyed through the city to the nearest pharmacy that I know has the hormone injections always in stock. I hand the man working there my prescriptions and his fetches the syringes. He tells me something about how long the shots are good for and something about a refrigerator but I'm not really listening. I've heard it all before and just give him a nod. He tells me my total and my face drains of color. I start to cry again too (why not?). As I put my card in the machine I pray to God that there is enough money in our account. As he bags up the meds he gives me a kind smile and tells me I can have a body wash for free from the display behind me. "Danke..." I manage to squeak out and then off I go...600 Euros poorer but, hey, 1 free body wash richer!
(Ok, those are gag gifts left over from my bachelorette party, but you know what I mean!)
You think $48.00 for a lingerie set from Victoris Secret's is ridiculous? Mull this one over: One of the front left syringes (yellow boxes) costs 53€ ($73.00)...ONE SHOT! That big syringe pen in the middle - $500.00! This is just my medicine, people! Don't forget that we get charged for each visit, each blood draw, each procedure, etc. etc. etc.! Keep in mind that this is just Month 1 - Attempt 1 too! You can imagine my frustration to hear each time that, despite 27 subcutaneous injections, the eggs aren't ready to be harvested. (Note my Fall table decorations: "Harvest Blessings - the warmth of home and family" says the candle holder. "Happy Harvest!" the little pumpkin wishes me. Thanks, I'm trying, guys...I'm really trying.)
191. Sometimes Germans will ask “Do you do sports?” I used to respond with “Well, I swam when I was younger.” but what they really mean is “Do you work out?” Sometimes I want to explain the difference but I don’t have the energy. I mean, either way the answer is no... ;)
192. Another common mistake I hear all the time - When departing, Germans will tell me “We’ll see us!” ???
What they mean is “We’ll see each other later.”
They translate “Wir sehen uns” word for word but it doesn’t make sense in English. So when a German says that to me I'm just like “Yea, see ya later!” But then they get confused because you don't say "See you later" unless you are actually going to see them later that day. So then there like "Wait, when?" Ugh...confusing...
193. McDonalds/Burger King is the only place that has a drive thru and it’s commonly referred to as the “McDrive.”
194. Eddie likes the idea of our drive up ATMs, mail boxes, and banking services, not to mention our drive thru gas station stores (Sami Quick Stop) in America. His friends and family were amazed by these services. Turns out, the Europeans have to actually get out of their cars to run errands...psht! What a joke! :)
195. During an earlier visit to Germany, Eddie and I had to deposit some money in the bank. While we were driving, Eddie asked:
“What’s today?”
“April 7”
“No I mean the day.”
“Wednesday”
“…shit….” …and he proceeded to slow down.
Confused, I start looking behind us to see if we were being pulled over. Nothing. I saw him looking at the clock so I did too. Ok, 2:00 PM? So, what? I finally asked him what’s wrong.
“…The banks are only opened for a half day on Wednesday.”
Oooohhhh, the good ol’ half-day, should have known! Frickin’ EUROPE! What is a half day? Is it a halfway through the week holiday? Who does that? I’ll tell ya who, only the Europeans. Americans wouldn’t have that for a minute!
Same thing goes for the fact that we have to plan things around the “lunch break.” Here’s an idea people, half your workers take a lunch break at 12 PM, the other half at 1 PM! Business continues as usual and your customers are happy! Problem solved! ::sigh::
196. Basically, America is way more consumer friendly. Most stores will match competitors prices. Eddie was amazed when I got Circuit City to come down on their price of a PS3 controller by a quick phone call to Radio Shack. Or when Foot Locker apologized for not having Eddie’s shoe size and offered to ship them to my house for free.
Basically, they just know that if we don’t buy it right now from them, we will go right down the street and buy it from someone else. You don’t have that luxury in Germany. The German businesses know that if you don't buy it from them, well, you're S.O.L.
197. Germans don’t have the right to bear arms. I like that we can legally own guns in America if we want to. On multiple occasions, Eddie’s parents have found strangers wandering around their yard claiming they “just wanted to see the new sauna house.” There is a high probability that, if that happened in America, you would be greeted with a sawed-off shotgun between your shoulder blades. I liked going to sleep in America knowing that it is a mystery to a burglar whether or not I sleep with a 9mm in my night stand or not…try me, buddy! Juuussst try me!
198. Germans can’t name their babies whatever they want like we can. There are rules. After working in the NICU at OSU, I think there should be some limitations. Two Words: "Lotsa Dollas." Sheesh!
199. When was the last time you saw a cigarette machine? Come to Germany and you’ll see one every couple of blocks! It's sad...
200. They don’t have a “cheap seats” movie theaters where we live. I once took Eddie and his sisters to Movies 8 in Boardman and we paid $0.75 per ticket. Olivia was so shocked that she saved the movie stub as proof!
Step 1: Wait on bench in hallway.
Step 2: Give blood sample.
Step 3: Wait 1 hour for results.
During this one hour waiting period I like to go to Starbucks and walk around the Freiburg train station to kill some time. I'm still 12 years old and I think coffee tastes icky so I usually just get a hot chocolate. I tried the "Pumpkin Spice Latte" one day because everyone flips their shit when this time of year comes around because "it's baaack" but I don't see what all the fuss is about. Why does everyone feel the need to take pictures of it with different filters on Instagram? Give me a "Zimtschnecke" any day though! (Zimtschnecke - "Cinnamon snail" - Cinnamon roll).
After an hour passes, I check back in and the secretary tells me to take a seat in the waiting room.
Oh no...the waiting room...::gulp::
I walk slowly down the hall and peak around the corner. Phew! Empty. Once there, I wait about another 15-20 minutes alone before they call my name - "Frau Freak?" ::eye roll:: I round the corner into the doctor's office. She is sitting across from me at her desk next to her computer and my file is open in front of her. I try to read her face before taking a seat but I get nothing. (Germans have chronic poker face.)
After some small talk, she leads me into the adjoining room and instructs: "Take off your undertrousers." Up until that last sentence our conversation has been in German. I'm surprised but when I close the curtain the get undressed I smile to myself because I've never heard the word "undertrousers" before. I repeat it in my head. Where did she learn that word? Is it British English? Should I correct her? Naaaah. Instead, I make a mental note to start using it at home with a British accent. "Hey Ed! Do you fancy my new undertrousers?" "Do you think I look fit in these undertrousers?"
I sit down and "assume the position."
When I say I have to get an ultrasound each time, it's not the cute kind that they use on pregnant women's bellies. You know, the one where they use a little bit of gel? The one in the holder next to the keyboard in this picture? No, each time I go, I get an "internal" ultrasound...with the rod looking thing that extends to the monitor screen. Pleasant, right?
Through this process we see that for the FIFTH TIME the eggs still aren't mature enough to be harvested. I get dressed (put back on my undertrousers) and we meet again at her desk in the other room. At this point in time I am trying to comprehend how this could be true. Why are the eggs not maturing? I'm doing the injections precisely as instructed. What else could I possibly be doing wrong?
My blood results from that morning still aren't back yet so she tells me to take a seat in the waiting room again. I round the corner obediently...only this time, I didn't prepare myself for it to be occupied. There is another woman sitting across from me at about my 10 o'clock with a round, gravid belly and I cringe.
"Don't look at it, Rachel. Don't look at her. Keep your eyes on the piece of square tile in front of your feet."
I busy myself with my purse, searching for the tissues that I knew to pack earlier this morning in case I didn't get the news I was hoping for. I can feel my eyes burning as the tears start to form. I keep my eyes closed because another pregnant woman has entered the waiting room and I just can't stand the sight of another pregnant belly in my face right now. So I sit there, with my head tilted back against the wall, and let the tears roll down silently. I don't bother to wipe them until they are gathered under my chin. The other women here probably think I'm nuts but I don't give a what.
Down the hallway I hear another ultra sound machine start up and the static sound of gel being placed on the probe. Then it starts, the rhythmic heartbeat of a baby. Based on my expertise, I'd say it's a healthy heart frequency of about 130. It's a sweet sound...but the baby is in someone else's belly...not mine. And I ache.
"Rachel, thou shalt not covet. Don't listen to it. It will be over any second."
But the beat continues. Would it be too much if I curled up in a ball in a corner with my eyes closed and my fingers stuck in my ears rocking back and forth and humming until my name was called? It's been said before but people with infertility issues should have the option of a separate waiting room. At this point, the room I'm picturing includes padded walls.
I resist the urge to scream because I figure they might change their minds on helping us get pregnant if they think I'm a nutcase. That or I will have psychologists/social workers breathing down my neck the whole time, and we don't want that now, do we? I try to pull it together before the doctor finally meets with me again. She says my hormone levels are ok and gives me a few more prescription papers. I don't even have to look at them, I already know they're for more shots...and more shots equal more money. As I take the prescriptions from her hand I can hear my bank account emptying like a toilet flushing.
After this short encounter I have to return to the secretary counter and make another appointment in 3-4 days. As we try to coordinate days and times the tears start to stream again this was supposed to be my last exam before the retrieval. I tried to hide them from the doctor but I get the feeling the secretaries know I'm unstable and report back to the doc. You think German is an ugly language? You should hear the way it sounds when you have and big lump in your throat and you're trying hard not to burst out into tears. Not pretty.
I finally exit, call for the elevator, and begin to hyperventilate. Just as the elevator arrives another man joins me. He greets me but I can't look him in the eye. Instead, I bolt for the stairwell where I let it all out just as the door closes behind me. My cries are extra loud as they bounce of the narrow walls but at least I'm alone. I have to wait until I no longer feel dizzy to go down the stairs. Wouldn't want a broken arm on top of all these issues...
I walk blurry-eyed through the city to the nearest pharmacy that I know has the hormone injections always in stock. I hand the man working there my prescriptions and his fetches the syringes. He tells me something about how long the shots are good for and something about a refrigerator but I'm not really listening. I've heard it all before and just give him a nod. He tells me my total and my face drains of color. I start to cry again too (why not?). As I put my card in the machine I pray to God that there is enough money in our account. As he bags up the meds he gives me a kind smile and tells me I can have a body wash for free from the display behind me. "Danke..." I manage to squeak out and then off I go...600 Euros poorer but, hey, 1 free body wash richer!
This is what baby-making paraphernalia used to look like to me:
But this is what it looks like now:
You think $48.00 for a lingerie set from Victoris Secret's is ridiculous? Mull this one over: One of the front left syringes (yellow boxes) costs 53€ ($73.00)...ONE SHOT! That big syringe pen in the middle - $500.00! This is just my medicine, people! Don't forget that we get charged for each visit, each blood draw, each procedure, etc. etc. etc.! Keep in mind that this is just Month 1 - Attempt 1 too! You can imagine my frustration to hear each time that, despite 27 subcutaneous injections, the eggs aren't ready to be harvested. (Note my Fall table decorations: "Harvest Blessings - the warmth of home and family" says the candle holder. "Happy Harvest!" the little pumpkin wishes me. Thanks, I'm trying, guys...I'm really trying.)
Our fridge now looks like this:
Normal convo in our house:
"Hey Babe! Did you forget to buy more butter?"
"No, I got some, it's in there somewhere!"
"I don't see it!"
"Did you check on the shelf with the Gonal and Ovitrelle?"
"Yea...not there!"
"What about under the Orgalutran?!"
"No...oh wait, yea, there is it! Found it!"
A small glimpse of what I have to do twice a day.
(Warning: If you can't handle needles, don't click play!)
This is what happens each time I take Orgalutran and last for about an hour.
This happens sometimes too.
The drive home from Freiburg is always a tearful one. I wonder what the passers-by think when they look in my car and see the driver having a silent break down. There are times when I think I'll have to pull over until I can catch a good breath. Then my phone rings and it's my husband. I love him and he calms me. Just once, I want to give him good news. Just once, it would be nice to not let him down. Can one thing work out on the first try? As I return home the messages start to come in too, friends and family wanting to hear how it went and when the eggs will be harvested, fertilized, and implanted.
On Tuesday, they'll put me under anesthesia and go in and take out the eggs. As of today, I only have 2 mature eggs on the left side. At this point I should have at least 8-10. I have to keep giving myself injections until then. At this point I have more faith in God than in the shots.
Genesis 30:22 - "And then God remembered Rachel. He listened to her prayers and opened her womb."
I trust Him and I believe in His word. (How can I not when he mentions me specifically?) Although the word "remembered" infers that at some point He may forgotten about me...I can look past it and trust in Him fully. I know one day he will answer my prayers but I really need this to work next week. I really need this to work. It just has to...
Germany vs. America
192. Another common mistake I hear all the time - When departing, Germans will tell me “We’ll see us!” ???
What they mean is “We’ll see each other later.”
They translate “Wir sehen uns” word for word but it doesn’t make sense in English. So when a German says that to me I'm just like “Yea, see ya later!” But then they get confused because you don't say "See you later" unless you are actually going to see them later that day. So then there like "Wait, when?" Ugh...confusing...
193. McDonalds/Burger King is the only place that has a drive thru and it’s commonly referred to as the “McDrive.”
194. Eddie likes the idea of our drive up ATMs, mail boxes, and banking services, not to mention our drive thru gas station stores (Sami Quick Stop) in America. His friends and family were amazed by these services. Turns out, the Europeans have to actually get out of their cars to run errands...psht! What a joke! :)
195. During an earlier visit to Germany, Eddie and I had to deposit some money in the bank. While we were driving, Eddie asked:
“What’s today?”
“April 7”
“No I mean the day.”
“Wednesday”
“…shit….” …and he proceeded to slow down.
Confused, I start looking behind us to see if we were being pulled over. Nothing. I saw him looking at the clock so I did too. Ok, 2:00 PM? So, what? I finally asked him what’s wrong.
“…The banks are only opened for a half day on Wednesday.”
Oooohhhh, the good ol’ half-day, should have known! Frickin’ EUROPE! What is a half day? Is it a halfway through the week holiday? Who does that? I’ll tell ya who, only the Europeans. Americans wouldn’t have that for a minute!
Same thing goes for the fact that we have to plan things around the “lunch break.” Here’s an idea people, half your workers take a lunch break at 12 PM, the other half at 1 PM! Business continues as usual and your customers are happy! Problem solved! ::sigh::
196. Basically, America is way more consumer friendly. Most stores will match competitors prices. Eddie was amazed when I got Circuit City to come down on their price of a PS3 controller by a quick phone call to Radio Shack. Or when Foot Locker apologized for not having Eddie’s shoe size and offered to ship them to my house for free.
Basically, they just know that if we don’t buy it right now from them, we will go right down the street and buy it from someone else. You don’t have that luxury in Germany. The German businesses know that if you don't buy it from them, well, you're S.O.L.
197. Germans don’t have the right to bear arms. I like that we can legally own guns in America if we want to. On multiple occasions, Eddie’s parents have found strangers wandering around their yard claiming they “just wanted to see the new sauna house.” There is a high probability that, if that happened in America, you would be greeted with a sawed-off shotgun between your shoulder blades. I liked going to sleep in America knowing that it is a mystery to a burglar whether or not I sleep with a 9mm in my night stand or not…try me, buddy! Juuussst try me!
198. Germans can’t name their babies whatever they want like we can. There are rules. After working in the NICU at OSU, I think there should be some limitations. Two Words: "Lotsa Dollas." Sheesh!
199. When was the last time you saw a cigarette machine? Come to Germany and you’ll see one every couple of blocks! It's sad...
200. They don’t have a “cheap seats” movie theaters where we live. I once took Eddie and his sisters to Movies 8 in Boardman and we paid $0.75 per ticket. Olivia was so shocked that she saved the movie stub as proof!
