Friday, October 2, 2015


My last post ended with the us having another appointment scheduled to start the whole process over again since the last round of meds didn't work.  That appointment has come and gone.  I was prescribed 150mg of Clomid every day for seven days. That's one of the highest dosages they give so the side effects made themselves WELL known.  #HotFlashesForDays  This regiment worked so much better than the last one.  12 days after starting this round of meds I was right where the doc wanted me so I could take the trigger shot.

We decided that we were going to jump straight to IUI for this round.  So we scheduled another appointment for two days later.  Intrauterine Insemination, or IUI, is a process in which the sperm are 'washed'.  They separate the good ones from the deformed and bad ones.  The doctor then places only the good sperm inside the uterus, giving you your best chances of conception.  Joe and I have affectionately been calling the procedure 'turkey basting'.  Although Joe was disappointed when the tool didn't actually look like a turkey baster, rather just a long tube. Dang it.

As we were sitting in the waiting room waiting to be called back for the procedure, I was noticing the different types of people that were sitting all around us as I've done every time I've been there.  There was a couple in their late 30's-early 40's, the wife looked kind and caring like she could have been a Sunday School teacher.  There was a young couple that had driven many hours to get here and arrived late the night before.  There was a gorgeous 20-something African American lady and her tall, dark, and handsome husband.  A middle-aged balding white male.  There was a couple who were around our age or maybe even a bit younger.  The husband had a dark beard, tall stature, and you could tell he worked with his hands while his wife looked like she could have been the captain of the cheerleading squad or a beauty pageant participant.  And then there was us.

As I observed everyone in the waiting room I couldn't help but notice the differences between everyone.  Most, if not all, of our paths would probably have never crossed had it not been for this waiting room.  We would have never been together had it not been for this one common denominator we all shared...infertility.  You see, infertility doesn't care if you're 40 or 22.  If you're married or in a relationship, if you spend your time molding the lives of children or if you spend it under the hood of car.  If you have blonde hair, brown hair, red hair, or no hair.  If you're black or white or if you look like Miss America.

Joe and I may be a different age, or nationality, or look different than many of the people in the waiting room that day but when you strip away age and hair color or the color of our skin, we're all really not that different.  We're all just humans.  Humans who are all struggling towards the same goal.  The goal to create a family that we can love and nurture and watch grow.

If I may quote a famous song, "We're all in this together".  Yes that is from High School Musical and yes Disney is applicable to all stages of life.  But seriously, everyone is fighting their own battles, somebody's maybe even the same as yours.  So be kind, be patient, and spread a little love.  You may have more in common with that stranger next to you than you think.

Tuesday, September 29, 2015

Patience is a Virtue

I've never been an incredibly patient person.  Not that I necessarily have the shortest temper but, for instance, if I buy someone a present any earlier than the day of their birthday, or Christmas, or whatever the event may be, I have THE HARDEST time keeping it a secret and not giving it to them immediately.  It kills me not to just blurt it out and ruin the surprise.  Same thing goes for if someone lets it slip that I have a present hiding in the house. I will tear the house apart trying to find it.  I've been like that ever since I was little.  It's hardwired into me and everyone close to me knows this...and uses it against me relentlessly.

It hit me while I was on my hour-long commute to a doctor appointment the other day that maybe that is what I'm supposed to be learning through this whole drawn-out, painful journey...patience.  The old cliche of "If God is going to teach you patience do you think He'll just give you patience, or will he give you opportunities to be patient?".  Touche.

I thought back and counted the numerous situations that I've needed patience through the beginning of this whole ordeal.  The obvious situations like the waiting rooms, waiting for the doctors, the 2-hour roundtrip drives to and from the clinic.  Those ones were easy, I could handle those.  I could even handle the 4-5 hour wait to get the test results back each time blood was drawn.

But it's the harder ones that really started to take a toll.  The constant and what seemed to be never-ending wait to see if the follicles (what hold the eggs) were getting any bigger, which they barely did over the course of a month until the doc seriously ramped up the dosage on my meds multiple times.  (Which in turn seriously ramped up the side effects.  SO sorry, Joe :) We weren't even to the point of waiting to find out if the test was positive or negative, we were just at the point of waiting to see when or IF we could try.  Multiple ultrasounds and each time hearing the doctor say "We're not quite there.  Nothing seems to be happening" was like a punch in the gut every. single. time.  Why won't my body just cooperate?  Why is it so easy for everyone else?  WHY US?!

Get knocked down 7 times, get up 8.  I drug myself into the office once more for another ultrasound check and finally, FINALLY we were at the point the doctor had been looking for.  The meds finally did their job, the waiting paid off, and the prayers worked.  The following morning brought a self-administered shot of Ovidrel to induce ovulation and then, well...I'm sure you can figure it out.

If I thought all the waiting up until this point had been hard, the infamous "2 Week Wait" was excruciating.  I literally drove myself crazy stressing over if everything had worked, analyzing every little symptom that I thought I was experiencing which turned out to just be from the meds, trying so hard not to take a test because I knew full-well that it was too early to detect anyway, hoping so hard that all the time and money put into this was going to pay off.

I wanted so badly for this story to have a grand and happy ending, but it doesn't.  All tests came back negative.  It didn't work, we weren't pregnant.  We knew going into this that the odds of conceiving on the first round of fertility meds were slim to none but that didn't make the reality of our failed attempt hurt any less.  All of the dreams and wishes I let creep into my head over the past month were, in a single instant, dead.  So here we are, back at square one with a doctor appointment scheduled to start this whole process over again.

I'm starting to come to grips with the fact that this is probably going to be a much longer journey than we had anticipated.  It's most likely not going to be the quick fix that we were hoping for.  I've realized that it's not our story that didn't have a happy ending, it's simply this one chapter that was more painful than hopefully others will be.  Our chapters will be filled with lots of waiting, lots of meds and doctors' offices, a lot of pregnancy announcements that won't be ours, a lot of heartbreak and a lot of tears.  But hopefully at the end of this journey, whenever that may be, there will be that one final chapter of our story that brings the happiest ending.  And that my friends, will make this my favorite story of all.