Hope everyone is having a great day! While everyone else is getting flowers and chocolates and being romanced by their partner, this is what we get to do:
Chris and I started out this morning waking up at 5:00 am because of the snow and traffic and drove separately out to Minneapolis for our second U/S appointment. We had the same tech who told me my lining was at 8mm and they like it to be over 7. Good news. I have a 20mm follicle on one side and a 19mm and a 14mm follicle on the other. Both she and the nurse told me that was really good and that, “you never know, that 14 could do something. Maybe you’ll get twins or triplets!” she says.
We laughed, like, Oh silly nurse, we can barely reproduce one.
“No really, I did an IUI on a couple with a really low sperm count and they wound up with triplets!”
So IUIs are planned for Friday and Saturday morning. Sweet.
Then, I waited a half hour for my blood work because the lab tech was behind. I have had the same woman draw my blood almost every time I have been there. She used to just ask me my date of birth and then ask which arm. Now she talks to me like family. And today the nurse says to me, “Let’s get this thing going. You guys have been here enough!” We have hit that point to where the staff recognizes us now. It’s bittersweet.
So then I c.r.a.w.l.e.d. my way back in traffic and got to work 15 minutes later than I said I was going to be. Around 11:00 I got a voicemail and knew it was from the clinic, because they say they will, “call you if anything changes.” Crap.
So I called them back and the nurse said there was going to be a slight change in plans, that my blood work showed I will be ovulating sooner than they thought. This has happened now two out of the three cycles. So she wanted me to trigger today and have sex tonight and the IUI tomorrow, but not Saturday.
I called Chris and told him.
Me: “So there’s been a change in plans. Now we are canceling the Saturday IUI and we have to have sex tonight instead.”
Him: “Oh really..? That sucks.” Totally crestfallen.
Me: “Yeah… I know.”
Welcome to Valentine’s Day as an infertile couple.
I went home on my lunch break and did my shot. Not the fun one; the one you stick yourself with. I immediately got a raised puffy patch at the injection site and, even more disturbing, one right below it. My stomach looked all lumpy on one side. It finally absorbed itself, but it was a little unsettling for awhile there.
Then I came home and during dinner, had to leave to go to the bathroom because I was crying. Apparently not getting a good picture of my dog with his bone, and burning myself on my food was enough for me to become an overly-emotional wreck in a matter of five minutes. Clomid. It sneaks up on you when you least expect it.
Now Chris and I get to force ourselves to have sex and I get to lay with my hips elevated the rest of the night. This is not the night to baby-dance. I’m bloated. I want to cry. My tummy hurts where I gave myself my shot. I am not feeling it.
Body: Toobadbitch. I’m ripping out eggs for you, the least you can do is give me some sperm.
Me: I don’t wanna!
Me: I hate you.
Body: I hate you too.