I don’t know about you guys, but I have a problem. A sickness really. I should get into therapy.
I am obsessed with recipes. You should see my Pinterest account. Did you see all my boards for food?? I love reading food blogs and trying new recipes. I was contacted by Amanda E. who told me she was a food blogger, at Dancing Veggies. Excus-a-me?? You post recipes… I like recipes… can we be best friends forevah??
Once I got over my giddiness, I got down to reading her post she sent me. I love this post, because I love helping someone “come out.” Whether it’s for reproductive plumbing issues, or men crushing on men (mental note: must find me a gay husband), I love when people share their stories. In her email to me, she told me this was her “coming out party.” So give this darling some love and support and for the LOVE, go pop on over to her blog. I’m already pinning some recipes.
Sickness, I tell you.
Hi! I’m Amanda E, and author of a vegetarian cooking blog. When I saw Risa’s call for guest bloggers I knew this was my chance to “come out” of the infertility closet. My closest friends and family members know, but for the most part I have kept quiet.
From the day we said our vows, my husband and I knew we wanted kids sooner rather than later. After a few months of “not trying, not preventing” we decided to get serious about the baby-making. So I got a thermometer and a few OPKs and got down to business. The second month of tracking resulted in a BFP, that lasted two days. Chemical Pregnancy #1.
A few months later, in January of this year, we again got to enjoy a BFP for a day before it became clear this one wasn’t sticking either. Chemical Pregnancy #2.
Shortly after the second Chemical, my OB/GYN suggested making an appointment with a specialist. The next available date was April 21st, the day before our first anniversary. Cycle-wise, everything matched up and I had my baseline ultrasound and HSG. My first medications arrived shortly after I returned from a pre-planned (much needed!) vacation. We knew from the beginning that insurance wasn’t paying for anything more than the initial testing and TI, so after much debate, and less-than-stellar follicles, cycle #1 converted to a TI attempt. BFN.
For the next cycle we went ahead and paid for the IUI in advance, and were rewarded with awesome numbers, but another BFN. Soon enough AF arrived and it was time for cycle #3.
CD 3 of my third RE-assisted cycle began like all those before it, with my alarm going off at a time best reserved for sleeping. I arrived shortly after the clinic opened and only had to wait a few moments before it was time for the blood draw. From there it was a short walk to the waiting room for the always-fun trans-vaginal ultrasound. After a short wait, I was ready for the fun to begin: feet in stirrups, ultrasound screen positioned correctly, and an extremely friendly technician who was ready to go. As soon as it was time to check out the ovaries, I knew something was wrong.
Normally on CD 3 the ovaries are filled with lots of little follicles, around a dozen each in my case, but this time things were bigger. Like Risa, I’m of the “unexplained” infertility variety, so hearing that I had two cysts on each ovary was not exactly expected news. I had one cyst back in college, but since then they have been clear and healthy – with the HSG results to prove it.
After having the cysts measured (14mm, 12mm, 10mm, and 8.4mm) I spoke to the nurse to find out what would, or would not, be happening. I was told that I needed to wait until the blood results came back, and that this cycle would depend on my estrogen levels. So with a nervous stomach I headed to work, calling my husband on the way to prepare him for the potential bad news.
While listening to a pregnant co-worker complain about her sensitivity to smells and stretch marks–I would kill for some stretch marks!—I got the bad news. The nurse explained that the IUI needed to be cancelled. I could not stop the tears. I couldn’t leave work so I tried listing the “positives” of having a cycle cancelled: soft cheese and caffeine; sexy times not based on a calendar; and no Clomid-induced mood swings or hot flashes. Every time I felt myself dwelling on the negative aspects of the cycle being cancelled I tried to think of one of those “positives” to trick myself into thinking that this was OK.
So here I am, waiting on AF to start so that we can go back in and try again. I’m fortunate that my cysts were small enough that birth control or other treatments weren’t deemed necessary. In theory I’ll be good to go come next CD 3. Until then I’ll be going on date nights with my husband, having a glass of wine, and not watching the clock to figure out when I need to take my next dose or injection. I’ll also be waiting for my stork.