Month: April 2022

What a difference two weeks can make. Eighteen days ago, I was filled with hope. Nervously laying back on the table with my feet in the stirrups thinking how weird Science is, but so excited that this could be the exact day our baby was conceived…via catheter. You remember the story. 

This morning, I sat on that same table, bleeding and heartbroken. Today was the first appointment that Justin was unable to make. While he felt bad, I assured him that it was not a big deal…I’ve done this before. After discussing all the necessary information and future plans, my doctor began writing my prescriptions and getting me fresh charts. Still writing, he asked if I had any questions. I’m sure he was expecting my normal, “Nope! I got this down.” Perhaps a clarifying question about the next IUI or my supplement regimen. What he was not expecting when he turned back around was to see me sitting on that same table falling apart. 

I don’t mean a few tears cutely rolling down my cheek. I mean ugly uncontrollable crying. This picture is embarrassing. But this, Readers, is what infertility looks like. 

While his resident grabbed a box of kleenexes, the doc took me in his arms in the way that one would awkwardly hug the crying girl covered in a paper sheet whom he had just violated with a plastic wand. In all fairness, I am sure that my tears are far from the first shed on that table. I took this photo as I was getting dressed and trying to pull myself together so that I could show my husband “how it went without him.” 

Moving forward, the plan is that I will try two more IUIs. He feels that three attempts is a fair chance to see if it will work. I don’t know what the plan is after that…or if there is a plan for after that. So, for now, I am just hoping there is some truth in “lucky number seven.” 

Next to the miscarriage back in January, this cycle has, by far, been the hardest disappointment to face, and this week has been one of the toughest to get through. In my heart of hearts, I really thought an IUI would be the answer. And I wholeheartedly thought I would be pregnant by Mother’s Day. Let’s just say the exam table is not the strangest or most inappropriate place I have cried this week. I am drained and I am exhausted. 

But, like I said in a recent post, I feel like I live my life in two-week increments. And in about fourteen days, I will find myself back on that same table, full of hope and excitement once again. And that is the roller coaster of infertility. Then, a few days after that, I’ll start to have new cravings and new symptoms that will convince me I’m pregnant, and secretly crying in the staff bathroom will seem like a thing of the past. 

Maybe this is how I keep going…because no matter how hard it gets, there’s always something to look forward to in two weeks. 

(four. twenty-nine. twenty-two)

It is currently 8 in the morning, and I’ve already had two good cries. This could mean one of two things:

1. Today is going to be a long emotional day. 
2. I’ve gotten the crying out of the way early, and it’s only uphill from here.

Only time will tell. Coincidentally(?), Justin has decided to brave the 30+ mph winds and go fishing today. 

This morning, I took my first pregnancy test since the IUI on April 11th. As one can probably deduce based on the first sentence of this blog post, it was negative. While chances may have grown slimmer today, I suppose all hope is not lost. It will not officially be “two weeks” for two or three more days, and since my cycle is a few days longer than normal, I’m not due to start my period for another five days. However, I am currently in the window where most people would start testing positive if they truly are pregnant. 

While curled up in a ball and in between sobs, I kept repeating: “I don’t know why I can’t do this.” And dear readers, that’s as real as it gets. I don’t understand why.

I am doing everything I can. Everything. With his hand on my shoulder, Justin continued to reassure me that next month is a fresh start and that it’s not my fault; even though technically (and medically), it is. All these years in, and I still don’t know how to process this. 

The mind is a powerful thing, and this month I convinced myself that I was pregnant. Though I hesitated to let myself believe it, and I even told people I didn’t think it worked, deep down, every bone in my body told me I was finally pregnant. This, like all rational thoughts, is based on these two facts:

1. Lemonade
2. Naps

The hormones that I am on can cause cravings. If you know me at all, you know that I have researched every possible side effect ad nauseam. However, my recent cravings for lemonade have been unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. It is the only liquid that remotely tastes good to me, and I. Cannot. Get. Enough. Prior to this, my lemonade intake occurred primarily once a year at the state fair (if you know, you know). I don’t even want to know how much lemonade I’ve consumed in the last week. Though I am not picky in the type, I have become quite the lemonade connoisseur. In case you are reading this and your mouth started watering just thinking about lemonade and summertime, here are my recommendations:

1. Simply Lemonade. (Hands down my favorite. However, it has sugar, which I have been drastically limiting, so I only allow myself a little of this at a time. But it truly is the perfect balance of sweet and tart.)
2. Nature’s Twist Sugar Free Strawberry Lemonade. (This is only found at Sam’s, and I only have a Costco card, therefore I have been relentlessly propositioning people to be my hook up.)
3. Crystal Light Lemonade. (95% of the time, this is what I’m drinking. Good classic (sugar free) lemonade. No further description needed. Plus, since you mix it into a water bottle, it’s essentially the same thing as drinking water, right? PS, a bottle of vodka is approximately 60% water, so if you need to use my reasoning to justify your Costco size bottle of Tito’s, feel free. PPS, next  time you make a vodka tonic, try a squeeze of lemon instead of lime. You’re welcome.)
4. Marketside Lemonade (from the Walmart deli) and Milo’s Lemonade. (These are both delicious, but are also loaded with sugar.  So, see #1)
5. True Lemon Lemonade Mix. (Not my favorite, but sugar free and will work in a pinch. You know…a lemonade pinch.) 

Fatigue is also a huge side effect of infertility. In addition to being a leading side effect of PCOS, the medications combined with the emotional and physical stress of this process is enough to wear a woman out. Every day this week, I have fallen asleep sitting up in my chair when I get home from work. Even knowing all of this, I just knew it meant I was exhausted from making a human. As of now, it appears I was wrong. 

This was my last chance to possibly have a baby in 2022. This was also my last chance to be pregnant by Mother’s Day. I know it’s not fair to my body to give her a timeline, but that’s how my mind works. To put it in terms that will bring it to life for you: I feel like I am suffocating. Every month my lung capacity seems to diminish. I honestly think it’s all the heartbreak taking up so much room in my chest.

I will always be an English teacher at heart, therefore I am pretty sure it is in my blood to despise cliché sayings. I know the one about lemons and lemonade. And although it is actually annoyingly appropriate, and lemonade is the only thing on my mind right now, I’m not going to say it. And even though, instead of coffee, I’m about to go pour myself a giant glass of lemonade, I am thoroughly sick of all these damn lemons. Can’t a girl catch a break? 

I guess I should end by clarifying that this is not a sponsored post. All lemonade endorsements are solely my own opinion. However, if any lemonade company wants me to be your spokeswoman, I accept. But, you better call quickly. This time next month I may be craving green beans. (Jolly Green Giant, get that sponsorship ready.) 

(four. twenty-three. twenty-two)

It is safe to say that I never imagined so many people would be involved in my attempt at procreation. However, on Monday of this week, with 5 people in the room, four of which with eyes glued on me (my eyes were obviously focused solely on counting ceiling tiles), I gave it my all…once again.

I guess I should clarify that my opening paragraph is less salacious than it sounds and is, in fact, referring to my IUI–which, I assure you, is a very unromantic procedure from beginning to end. And though clinical, we are very hopeful that this may be the thing that makes the difference. 

The last couple of weeks have passed in a blur. Two weeks ago, I turned 40, and as mentioned in a previous post, this day (admittedly irrationally) held a lot of weight for me. The anxiety leading up to this birthday was suffocating. Thankfully, it came and went with minimal tears, and though the number is different, both me and my eggs feel exactly the same. 

To celebrate, we had a fantastic weekend away in Dallas. For the first time in months, I didn’t think about reproduction. I didn’t stress. I didn’t worry. Through all of this, I have proven to myself just how strong I actually am. But, I have to admit, doing it without the everyday, up close and personal support of family has been very challenging, so being surrounded by people who love me on this tough day after another dose of tough news, was just what the doctor ordered. Also, I met Randy Travis!! **insert starry eyed emoji here**

When meeting with the doctor for my monthly ultrasound and new dose of meds after the last failed round, he suggested that we try an IUI this cycle. Willing to do whatever it takes, we agreed with his reasoning and decided to give it a try. Our directions were to continue with the meds and all the monitoring and charting as usual, and to go in for the IUI the day before ovulation. 

The ovulation predictor tests turned positive this past Sunday, so I paged the doctor and we set up the appointment for Monday. 

If you’ve never been through this, you probably have no idea what an IUI even is. I realized that when I shared the news. Some people thought this meant IVF, while a few others thought this meant I was actually pregnant. Neither of those are the case. 

An IUI is an intrauterine insemination. I will do my best to tactfully explain the whole process, as we experienced it…

Justin was told to come in at 10 and make his…. “donation to mankind”. Out of curiosity, I asked MANY uncomfortable questions. Turns out, this room is exactly as it appears in tv shows and movies–complete with a puppy pad on the leather couch.

After which, they ran the goods through the lab where they counted the sperm, cleaned, and concentrated it. Encouragingly, Justin’s numbers were very good! We were told that we needed a minimum of 2 million healthy sperm to do an IUI with any chance of success. Justin’s sample contained 12.51 million. I literally high fived him,  “Atta Boy” style, while sitting half naked on the exam table. Super classy, I know. 

My directions were to show up at 11 for my half of the process. After running it through the lab, and having both Justin and I verify that it was, indeed, his name on the vial approximately 47 times, a catheter was inserted directly into my uterus, saving the swimmers the apparently daunting task of swimming past the cervix, and putting them close to the egg right before it’s release. 

All of this with an audience of: my husband (who, to be fair, I always assumed would be a part of this process), my fertility doctor (obviously necessary), his nurse (who is quickly becoming one of my favorite people), and a med student who was encouraged to (and I quote), “get down and really watch this process”.

This is a very simplistic explanation of this procedure, and I am sure I am leaving out some major science behind it. But, to be fair, in my mind the whole thing works exactly like the introduction to Look Who’s Talking. Therefore, please direct further questions to Google. Or the med student. They had a front row seat. 

Even with ALL of this, we still only have a 15% chance of success. I am cautiously optimistic. The dice are, after all,  more in our favor than they have been for the previous 5 cycles. 

As always, we will not know anything for 10-16 days. The other day, I told Justin that I feel like we live our lives in a series of two week increments. And we are now at the hardest part: the beginning of another dreaded “Two Week Wait.” I had planned on booking a massage to ease some tension in this cycle’s wait, only to find out that they are booked up until mid May. So I suppose I am going to have to survive this TWW with my yoga mat and Whataburger cinnamon rolls. 

Hey, my hormones are raging…so no judgment on my cinnamon rolls. 

Hormones are a weird thing, y’all. I have never felt more like a marionette in my life. One minute I’m at the zoo laughing as I watch an ostrich chase a baby giraffe through the exhibit grounds, and the next minute I’m exiting the children’s petting zoo as fast as I can, sobbing. The only explanation I could give was that there were just too many babies crying in an enclosed space and I felt like I was drowning. I really am diligently working on getting my anxiety under control, but some days it’s harder than others.  

This post feels like a rambling mess. But to be fair, it is a painfully accurate representation of my brain these days. But here I am, doing the best I can to get through each day, and maybe pet a baby goat without crying.

(four. thirteen. twenty-two)