I had my phone consultation with the high-success-rates clinic in the Rocky Mountains today. What I learned:
(1) I am currently at an "excellent" IVF clinic. It sounds odd, but I'd almost rather I were at a clinic run by FEMA so that I would have higher hopes about switching. Anyway, the phone doctor totally hearts my current doctors.
(2) #1 does mean that I could have most of my monitoring done at home, were I to end up cycling at the more famous clinic. So at least that's convenient.
(3) There are many things that could be going wrong. They include the lab, a genetic issue with either me or my husband or just our ungrateful offspring themselves, the effects of endometriosis, or maybe even ovarian age (even though I have always shown a heartwarming number of antral follicles). Testing should be done if this FET fails! Which he hopes it doesn't!
(4) Probably, if all that testing were to come back normal, what would happen if I did a fresh cycle there would be that I'd go on three months of Lup*ron De*pot to allow for the return of integrin, which sounds like a science-fiction title but which apparently helps with implantation. There might also be some PGD to see why my embryos hate freedom. And we'd see if their shiny lab could kick my current lab's linoleum ass.
The only really heartening thing was that he said that their endo success rates are the same as their overall success rates. And their overall success rates are high, as all of us desperate IVFers know - yes, those success rates make us willing to hand over piles and piles of money that we could otherwise spend on desperately needed new fall fashions.
In other news, I'm leaving town again. I'm heading to the land of my birth because my parents have moved into a new house, and I need to clean out my national archives before they sell the place so that the lot may be bulldozed and a McMansion erected. I look forward to re-reading my middle-school journal entries, which I recall went mostly like this: I wonder if maybe I will be popular this year. I sure would like to be popular.
(N.b., it never turned out that way.)