Reflections on Cycle One in the Midst of Cycle Two

We waited until July to start our first cycle.  S and I are scheduled to take a belated honeymoon/extended trip without Peanut in November, so we wanted to time the process to line up with the second trimester of pregnancy during our trip (not the third), in case I should happen to get pregnant on our first try.  I'm nothing if not an obsessive planner at heart.

So I enjoyed the month of June with an occasional beer, some yoga classes, and all the summer breeziness I could muster, trying not to let me excitement/anticipation of the beginning of a new pregnancy get the better of me.  I didn't succeed.  I actually spent too much time staring at the calendar and counting the weeks (end of first trimester, telling people, vacation, end of second trimester, maybe one more trip to S's homeland, Peanut turning two, baby's birth, my parental leave).  I fantasized about reducing my work hours to spend more time with both kiddos.  I read pregnancy forums on the Internet.  And on and on. 

I went into Cycle One having built it up so much that I was holding back tears on the actual day of the insemination (July 31 / CD 20).  My body was overrun by too many hopes, plans, dreams, wishes, fears all wrapped into It Has to Work This Time.  Anxiety coursed through my body from the day S gave me the "trigger shot" to induce ovulation until the moment the insemination happened. And ultimately I didn't get pregnant.

I didn't think about what would happen in this scenario.  At all.  In June, I foolishly booked a flight to go visit a dear friend over Labor Day, not even considering I might be TTC at that point.  I now realize we can realistically only try one more cycle - right now - in order to be in the second trimester during our honeymoon.  Which means I need to cancel my Labor Day trip.  If it doesn't work this time, our next attempt will have to be in December.  DECEMBER.  It feels like an eternity from now, especially with Age 35 looming over the horizon of 2015, with the straight family friends with a kiddo just 3 weeks older than Peanut having welcomed their second kid already, with wanting to get the heck out of the Big City and move to a smaller city already, with wanting to quit our jobs and open our own business, with OMG my previously good insurance denying all the claims from the clinic and my copay went up to $50 per visit (and there are a LOT of visits) so how can we afford this, etc.

It has been hard to keep my optimism up.  I've been gloomy and moody, and frustrated with myself for setting up my own ridiculous expectations and "plans."  I'm trying to remember there can be no expectations in this process.  Things will happen when they happen.  I'm trying to get out of my head and focus on gratitude.

Ovidrel

It has been a long week of using ovulation tests twice a day, staring at the control line and the test line and trying to will the latter to be darker than the former.  I've been feeling some cramping in my ovaries and yet, still, no positive.  So as per the clinic's instructions, tonight we used an Ovidrel injection to help get the process of ovulation started.

Before that, I had a bit of a meltdown.  I think it was inevitable that I would cry from stress at some point.  While I've been feeling relatively calm and confident throughout this process, the monitoring and anticipation of the past week has been a lot of pressure.  I've been feeling a huge responsibility to do things "right" so we don't miss my LH surge - hold the stick right, drink or not drink the right amount of liquid, interpret the results correctly.  It has been a lot to manage.

My tears were triggered by a phone call from the pharmacy saying my insurance company wouldn't cover the medication.  I freaked out and spent a chunk of my afternoon on hold trying to get through to the clinic to grant pre-authorization to the insurance company so they would cover it.  When I arrived at the pharmacy after work, it turned out the systems had failed me: the insurance still hadn't gone through.  I called S from the street, crying.  Always one to manage crises well, S helped me calm down and came up with a plan.  The end result?  We paid for it out of pocket.

Once I got the prescription filled, there was the small issue of the fact that I had to give myself an injection.  With a needle.  I really, really don't like needles.  And again, S totally came through by volunteering to administer it for me.  He gives himself testosterone injections every two weeks, and he kind of has a fascination for needles.  So he cleaned my thigh with alcohol and did the deed; I just turned my head away and tried to breathe.

In less than 30 seconds, it was over.  And now we'll report to the clinic on Friday for the IUI.

Insured

Yesterday signified a big moment in our pregnancy planning: I now have health insurance. I have officially been at my new, wonderful job for 30 days and I am finally eligible for comprehensive coverage. This, after being uninsured for three months (during which I crossed my fingers daily and prayed I would stay healthy and safe).

During my first week on the new job, I pored over the details of my pending insurance coverage: OBGYN visits, prenatal care, infertility services with hope and anticipation. l was pleased to find that all these services seem to be generously covered. I now hope it all pans out when I actually begin to USE the coverage.

For now, I simply mark this day as another joyous step on the journey toward building our little queer family.