Chemical Pregnancy

Today I called the fertility nurse to report a negative pregnancy test, but no real period. Just spotting since Thursday. She wanted me to come in for a blood serum test because it's possible I am pregnant with spotting, especially since I had tender breasts. I left work mid-morning to have my blood drawn, hoping, hoping, hoping that I was really pregnant and that the blood test would finally be accurate. Wrong.

I waited until 4:00 to call her to find out the results, got the voice mail. She called back after 5:00 to explain my number was "strange." Anything below a 5 is a negative test result. A positive one is 25+. My number was 17. The nurse explained that they would expect to see a number in the hundreds if I was pregnant at this point. That "strange" number 17 may indicate a chemical pregnancy which is when the egg gets fertilized, starts dividing and triggers all the pregnancy chemicals in your body to increase, but then stops dividing. It could mean that we were pregnant, but it failed. Because of the strange number, I have to be tested again on Wednesday, and as a result, I can't start the Clomid tonight. Now I realize that I forgot to ask her if that means no IUI this month or just no Clomid.

There is nothing wrong with either of us. We should be able to conceive. Knowing we were possibly pregnant does not make me feel better about the fact that we are not pregnant now.

Brat's wife's baby shower is in August and I really needed to be pregnant by then. I needed it for me, so I could know we were going to have a baby, so when those nosey old ladies asked "when are you going to start a family" I could just smile and shrug, knowing I already had. It's not that I need to tell anyone, I just need to know it's happening for me, my peace of mind.

Husband just called after looking at some cars. He made the mistake of explaining that the one he really likes is similar in size to the one Brat and Wife have. I flipped out, "I don't want ANYTHING like what they have! I hate them!"

Seriously, grow up!

Of Course Not

Day 28, still barely spotting, negative pregnancy test. I'm furious with God. Another way to shit on Husband and I. I've already made my angry, self-pity fury exclamations about poor people procreating and everyone I know here is able to have babies but us, so I won't make them again even though I'm drowning in them. My first glass of wine in two weeks, I'm tempted to take vodka shots. Prayer doesn't work, even my friends who knew about this who said they would pray for us- it didn't work. My one friend who claimed God speaks to her- told her she was pregnant immediately after the act- even her prayers didn't work for us.

I will have to start taking Clomid again Monday. Another wasted $20 and five days. Still haven't received the bill from the first IUI, so who knows how much that will cost. Right now I feel it's not worth it. If they haven't found anything wrong with us, and we did an IUI, how can we not be pregnant? Why are Husband and I literally prevented from having the things in life we want most (aside from one another): our careers have been a wash, baby making a failure, even our car search has not worked out.

Another month of this bullshit. I have zero hope and feel no reason to try and believe it will ever happen. I hate you fucking bitches who end up pregnant: "It was a surprise" or "We didn't try long." Fuck you.

Spotting

We had our first IUI on Sunday, June 12th, the morning of our godson's baptism. We felt good about it, I haven't been drinking, I've continued my prenatal vitamins, have been exercising, etc. We followed up the IUI with regular ol' intercourse and have felt very hopeful. Until last night.


Took a pregnancy test yesterday morning, it was negative. Fine, it was only day 27, still early. The app on my iPhone was telling me I'd start my period on day 27 but it has often been off a few days. All day at work yesterday it felt as though I was going to start any moment, and sure enough right before bed last night, spotting.

I started crying, but kept telling myself  "it could just be spotting." Husband wanted to hold me, but it was easier for me not to cry if I didn't make eye contact and kept my distance. He was crushed, but acted strong for me. This morning he ate his breakfast out in the garden and was very quiet. Told me that he doesn't want to hear me say "But it could just be spotting." He's done feeling hopeful for this cycle.

We were sure it would happen this month. The fact that the IUI was on our godson's baptism day, and it was his parents who introduced Husband and I so it had to mean something, right? I even went up during mass to receive a blessing, I have been saying my prayer to St. Jirard:
"O good Saint Gerard, powerful intercessor before God and Wonderworker of our day, I call upon thee and seek thy aid. Thou who on earth didst always fulfill God’s designs, help me to do the holy Will of God. Beseech the Master of Life, from Whom all paternity proceedeth, to render me fruitful in offspring, that I may raise up children to God in this life and heirs to the Kingdom of His Glory in the world to come. Amen."

What else could I have done? My body hasn't been telling me anything-I'm not feeling different, no indication yet if I am pregnant. It's strange to me that even in the face of negative pregnancy tests, I haven't freaked out, as I normally would, so I believed that was my mind's way of telling me that I was pregnant. Don't freak out because you are, it just isn't showing up yet.

Each time I use the restroom today I'm checking and praying there is only a little blood. Please, God, let this just be implantation spotting, please let me pregnant. This is the right time, please don't make us go through this another month. Please let me give Husband a child of his own. Please allow me this natural and rightful process as a woman to conceive, grow and give birth to our baby. Please don't make me an outcast from all these women around me who have conceived already and share in something that I yet cannot. Please do not add this to my list of miseries, resentments and insecurities. Please let us be pregnant now and have a healthy baby of our own. Please.

I'm an Idiot

Good Sunday morning. I'm a fucking moron. Somehow I thought I was supposed to take my first clomid pills on day 1 of my period, but I was wrong. Had a sneaking suspicion this morning that I had taken the pills on the wrong day. Sure enough I read over the paperwork today and it says clearly "take on days 5-9"- ugh! So I made a frantic call to fertility nurse who is of course out for the weekend, explaining my error, rambling on about what an idiot I am and asking for instructions. "Did I totally blow it for this cycle? Do I get more pills? What do I do?!"

I'm sure it had nothing to do with the wine I drank last night, or the general sense of constant chaos and emotional upheaval. I swear the nurse told me to take them on day 1, regardless it's my fault for not paying attention to the stupid prescription label !!!!

No wonder we haven't conceived, it's God's way of preventing me from spawning and spreading my idiocy.

UPDATE: The weekend fertility nurse called me back Sunday. She was very nice and said that while she had never heard of anyone taking clomid the first day of their period, she was sure the regular nurse (Luanna) would have. She told me to not take anymore, to call Luanna on Tuesday morning and she would most likely just have me get one more dose of pills and have me take them as planned, on days 5-9. I was relieved, though still embarrassed and worried I messed up this month. Clearly, I need to calm down and focus on what I'm doing.

Late Start

This week stinks. I’ve never been more full of hope that we were pregnant than this week. This was of course dashed to bits when I took a pregnancy test the evening of the first day I should have started my period. I am rarely a later starter. The following day I was in the waiting room of the fertility clinic waiting for my appointment to sign the consent form for the first IUI session. And so it begins…

My appointment was scheduled for 4:15 pm, I arrived in the waiting room after checking in at 4:11. Surrounded by pregnant women and their uncommunicative husbands/boyfriends/partners, I flipped through the news on my cell phone, pretending to read articles about Libya and Russia trying to negotiate Ghaddafi’s departure, while I secretly was resenting those rotund women and their damn luck at conceiving. Sizing then up from the corner of my eye, judging their lives, their hair, their outfits. I wondered if the husbands/boyfriends/partners wanted babies or if they were dragged along, surprised or forced into having one. I prefer that. I don’t want to think of anyone but us being excited to have a baby.

Meantime, I had checked my email and finally received a response from the doctor regarding the pelvic ultrasound I had two weeks ago. I had to send two emails to receie a response, and even then it took her four days to respond the second email. The doctor reported that only two fingertip sized fibroids appeared on the ultrasound, and they were too small to impede conception. This is good news, except here we are again, learning that nothing is wrong with us, it’s just not happening. Mixed bag emotionally. She stated the next step it a hysterosalpingogram to find out if my tubes are blocked, or just start right in with the IUIs. Since I was already sitting in the waiting room waiting to sign a consent form for the IUI, a hysterosalpingogram was not going to be the next step.

I waited for 45 minutes as those pregnant women disappeared into the doctor’s office, then left the clinic. Patience is not something I excel at, but I didn’t want to be rude, these people have our fertility in their hands. Finally I stepped into the nurse’s station and explained that I had an appointment nearly an hour ago and was wondering if I’d be seen. The one nurse clearly didn’t listen to me, instructed me to go sit in the waiting room and wait to be called. Exasperated, one short breath away from turning into The Hulk,  I addressed the other nurse and said again, that my appointment was at 4:15, it was now 5:00. That nurse acknowledged me, asked who my appointment was with and then informed the fertility nurse I was still waiting to be seen. I heard that fertility nurse exclaim “Oh! I totally forgot about her! Oh no!” Yep. Of course she forgot about me. Fucking bitch. I’m just out here dying to get started on treatment so I CAN HAVE A BABY…no rush, nothing important going on out here.

She was nice and I forgave her immediately. I know she was busy and at least she didn’t make me come back later. The first time I sat in her office I broke down sobbing, this time I was calm and full of questions. We discussed the process for the IUI and when to start taking Clomid-which would make me ovulate double time, therefore improving the chances of conceiving during the IUI process. She told me I start taking the pills on the first day of my period. I asked what happens if I don’t actually have a period this month since I was already 1-3 days later than normal? She proceeded to explain to me what the first day of a period is, I listened, irritated, wanting to slap her to make her actually listen to my question. “Yes, Luanna, I know what the first day of a period is, but I’m late this month, and I’m asking you what do I do if all I have is spotting?” Again, she explained to me that the first day of a period is when there is red blood flow, not spotting. “Luanna, I know about periods. I’m asking you what do I do if I don’t have a period this month?” This went round and round three times before she finally listened and answered my question with “It will happen. You will have flow.” Sigh.

So here is the process for IUI:

I start taking two Clomid pills per day on the first day of my period, and do so for five days. On day 11 of my cycle I begin taking OPK. When I get the smiley face on the OPK indicating Lh surge, I call the fertility pager to set up a time that very day to have Husband’s semen inserted into my uterus. After the appointment is set, Husband has to produce semen into a cup which I will take with me to the appointment. I’m to carry it in a bag, close to my body (under a jacket zipped up) to keep the swimmers warm, but not too hot. The lab tech will then take the swimmers, “clean them,” spin them, do their magic to make them ready to attack my eggs, I will lay down and someone will use a long, thin tube inserted into my uterus to “inject” the swimmers. Now the swimmers will be closer to my eggs, bypassing what is apparently a highly toxic vaginal/cervical environment, and hopefully we will conceive.

The best part of the week was starting my period three days later than normal. Today is day 30 of my cycle, and I didn’t start my period until this afternoon. Sad on one hand not to be pregnant, happy to know that I can start taking Clomid and in 11-17 days we will go in for the IUI and hopefully be pregnant a few days after that. If not, I will be crushed. 

Another great part of this week is being with Husband's family which is wonderful, because Brat and Wife aren't here. But they may be coming over tomorrow. Just what I want the day after I start my fertility treatment, Clomid is a hormone afterall, sit there and listen to her complain about how tired she is, how she hates gaining weight (Easter was all about how glad she was she hadn't gained weight....can you hear the tick, tick, tick of my rage bomb?), and talk about baby names. My strategy is to not drink too much to prevent puking my absolutely hatred on the, but just enough to keep me from being miserable and crying. Poor Husband. 

The Rule of Three

I was chatting online today with a coworker about upcoming plans to go out of town for a wedding next week. As I typed out the sentence "This will be wedding one of three for the year. These things usually happen in threes: weddings, babies, divorces,"I suddenly went into panic mode. There are already three babies for this year! If there are already three, then that means we won't have one!

After several minutes of barely maintaining, and managing to keep my short breaths just long enough to not quite qualify as hyperventilating-one does not want to alarm others in the office of their absurd emotional issues after all-I realized this is okay. You see last year, there were only two babies, which meant there is an extra one which could be used this year. Phew! Then I remembered that another friend is due in September. Shit. That makes four babies in this year, using the remaining one from the previous year.

Seriously, I am a reasonably intelligent woman. I can cook a meal, count to 100, pay my bills on time, drive without crashing into others, but this stupid thought took hold of me. I really felt, well, that's it, then. Nothing is going to happen this year. F that. No more OPKs, no more tracking my cycle and when we have intercourse. Yes, sex has officially become intercourse. It's too scheduled and expected to be love making or sex. Sigh.

Just as I began writing this post, it dawned on me that we wouldn't give birth this year, anyway. It's too late, but that doesn't mean we won't get pregnant. Oh, wait! That's right! So it is still a possibility...yes, Anastasia, there could still be a stork in the near future for you!

I sit here and count out the months on my fingers, if we got pregnant in May, we could have the baby in February or March. That would be lovely, a baby born the same month as Husband, or my older sister whom I love dearly. The fantasies of planning the birth, the nursery, how big I would be in September at my friend's wedding which I am a bridesmaid in...all these wonderful and fun images pop into my head. It's hard not to entertain them, they are too enticing. There is trouble in allowing these fantasies to play out too long though. I tend to hold onto them, redirecting every little step in each one, the joy is nearly tangible, re-imagining nursery colors, what it will be like to tell everyone we're pregnant, to finally know we aren't TTC (trying to conceive) anymore, but have actually achieved conception! These thoughts become chains when it's clear each month that I am in fact not pregnant again.

Two days until I'm supposed to start my period. I don't feel any different than I do every month, but I'm hoping this time we're pregnant. I'd love for Husband and I to have one of the three babies for next year.

Just Maybe

I got the smiley face on the OPK test this morning. For the first time since last fall I've ovulated two months in a row. I wasn't even going to take an OPK today because I was feeling so low about everything, and it is two days past the typical day I get the Lh surge. Yesterday was a hard day emotionally, for no particular reason. Coming out of the restroom at work yesterday I experienced something strange. Impulsively, I almost reached out to touch the pregnant belly of a woman in the hope it would bring me good luck. In a flash, a nearly involuntary muscle spasm nearly forced my arm to reach out toward her. Thank goodness I was able to restrain myself, I'm sure she would have thought I was attacking her. 

I continue to wonder if our trouble conceiving is the punishment for some choices I've made in my life, things I've done that have hurt others. I always thought it would come in the form of never finding love, never being married to the "right man," or of being diagnosed with cancer and either having my spouse leave, or of dying young. It never occurred to me it may manifest in the form of infertility. This fear has increased since the test results showed that Husband's swimmers were healthy. It's one thing to feel that you are being appropriately punished as a single person, but when you are experiencing a hardship that effects someone you love, then it's cruel. Perhaps that's what make it punishment.