I’m going to start by saying that this round of clo.mid is not. going. well. for me. There was no change in the dosage this round so who knows why the side ffects feel stronger. It might be all psychological-I’m not ruling that out. All I know is that in the past few days, I have a lovely melange of headaches, fatigue and moodswings. It was a bad week at work, independent of my internal experience which also didn’t help and for the last 3 days I’ve had panic-like anxiety and bad sleep-the kind where you can’t turn your brain off. It’s strange, like someone is physically pushing a great big depression blanket down on top of me while the calm me suffocates and flounders. Yesterday, M and I were driving home and hit a squirrel. This would traumatize me anyway but, as you can imagine, in my current state this took the form of great, gulping crocodile tears that went on and on. It wasn’t pretty.
I guess the numb feeling had to break sooner or later and I look back on it with tender nostalgia (though I am sure it will be back). I am feeling so very tired of all of this. I know I am standing in a long line of those who have gone before me and that so many of you have been through this and lived to tell success stories. Still, for right now, I have had ENOUGH.
One more time! CD1 today and one more try on the IUI merry-go-round. More soon…
Despite the fact that I am so sure these IUIs won’t work for me, I still find myself fixating on the details. This is surely a sign that I continue to hope despite myself, instead of a reminder of my reflexive neurosis.
Enter this week’s obsession: I have been convinced that we inseminated too early. This gnawing suspicion was deepened in the last few days during which I had progessively copious amounts of EWCM and all of the signs of ovulation, 3 days afer IUI. Now, I know that fertility drugs can make CM unreliable but it usually in the opposite direction (dry it up). But, I also know that once you ovulate, your progesterone makes it creamy, etc, etc, TMI and all the rest.
When I called the clinic, I got the canned ‘If X, then Y speech’ in which the nurse told me such signs are ‘unreliable’ and ‘we know that follicles grow at 2mm/day and if you at a 14mm follicle on 3/2 then by 3/5 your follicle would have been 20mm and ripe for the trigger.’ I accepted this explanation and the insinuation of my inherent (infertility) neurosis but hung up feeling so frustrated and powerless. I know that my antecdotal experience doesn’t mean much in the face of science but could I have a least an ounce of recognition for knowing the body I have lived in for 33 years?
Half an hour later, the NP unexpectedly called. Apparently, the nurse had a nagging doubt because she sought out the NP who, in turn, told me that, yes, it is very possible that my follicle didn’t develop at the usual rate (typical for me even on Clomid) and, if immature, would not have been triggered by the Ovidrel shot. She also said it is possible for estrogen levels to remain high for a few days after ovulation so EWCM would not be impossible. She offered for me to come back for a luteal phase blood test because it could be ‘helpful information’ about when I did, in fact, ovulate. I liked this option, even if it meant another appointment.
At this point, I don’t know whether to feel vindication or depression. I would actually prefer for the clinic to be ‘right.’ Of course, I would also prefer for this to be an exact science with concrete steps and outcomes. I would prefer to not be going through this at all. I settled on relief at feeling heard and validated and called it a day.
Ever since I googled ‘artificial insemination’ early on and found myself among websites for farmers breeding cattle, I cannot see that word without a dark chuckle. At least ‘alternative insemination’ makes me think of cows swathed in rainbows, and maybe leather chaps (which would, of course, be wrong on so many levels) cruising at a pride parade before swinging by the farm to be bred.
To be clear, I don’t think of my journey (or anyone else’s) as bovine in any way, but every so often I am struck by the language we have to describe this process. It’s amazing that such an intense journey has such clinical language as it’s badge.
But, I digress-mostly because I was, in fact, inseminated today. Clomid IUI round #2.
I’ve launched myself into full distraction mode. I have been really excited since joining the board of a local organization serving at-risk youth that pairs students with local photographers who serve as their mentors and giving them opportunities to exhibit their work around town. We have an annual auction coming up in the fall and I have thrown myself headlong into helping organize it. Check them out, they are fabulous: www.focusonyouth.org
Also, I have now added quilting to my list of random crafting hobbies and made my first baby quilt. This started out as a gift for a friend but I significantly enjoyed both the process and outcome and, thus, have decided to keep it. I have a lot of superstitious angst about having baby things for our yet-to-be conceived baby. However, much like Raul, the decision to keep the quilt means allowing myself to believe that our baby is not an ‘if’ but a ‘when,’ even if the exact ‘when’ is unknown.
The lighting in the room is a tad yellow, but you get the picture:
Just an update for those following along….
Midcycle u/s on CD 12 (wed) showed 2 follicles at 14 and 12. Apparently, once a follicle is at 14, they can predict growth rate (2mm/day) so they went ahead and told me to trigger shot on Sat w/ an insem on Monday.
Had a big ‘ole fight with the clinic and my insurance company about the process for getting the cost of the Ovidrel covered and went round and round and round with both of them until I finally gave up. It’s a long, boring story that I won’t torture you with but, in the end, I decided the small % that the insurance would cover of the drug was not worth the headache, time and energy it was costing me. Argh.
At the risk of being redundant, I can only say that I am currently feeling neither overtly negative nor particularly hopeful about the success of these Clomid attempts. I remind myself that, post-surgery, we are really at the beginning again which is both hopeful and exhausting. It’s been so many months of 2-week intervals and emotional upheavals that I am feeling tired.
I feel a strange numbness right now that I can only attribute to a need to disconnect from the emotions of this experience for a little while. I’m taking a break from scouring the horizon for land and, instead, find myself curled up at the bottom of my little boat hoping a bird doesn’t crap on my head and waiting for the sound of scraping sand to tell me it’s time to look up. It’s an uncharacteristically passive approach but it’ll have to do for now.
Here’s to future posts filled with less whining and more positive thinking and, dareIsay, hope! Thanks for your patience in the mean time…