IUI #2

S and I woke up at 5am today, determined to be the first ones at the clinic so we'd be able to be there without stressing about getting to work on time.  So we arrived forty minutes before the clinic opened and sat patiently in the waiting area until they opened their doors.  Shockingly, the clients who arrived after us actually honored our first-in-line status, so we were not only the first to sign in, but the first to go through billing.  After that, it was a waiting game of a little under an hour until the sperm was thawed and we were called into an examination room.

The IUI this time was performed by the same female doctor I've seen several times this cycle; one who ultimately, is very nice, but I've found her to be less than graceful when it comes to dealing with my body.  The same was true today; I tensed up as she inserted the speculum, and definitely felt cramping as the catheter went into my cervix.  But then, just like that, it was done.  S said he felt more connected to the process this time.  I, on the other hand, had a very difficult time emotionally.  I didn't make the same efforts to ground myself, to breathe, to be present in my body to receive the sperm.  I actually did my best to NOT be present, so much so that after the insemination, as I laid on the table for five minutes, S tried to help me come back. 

"Just close your eyes and breathe for one minute," he said gently.  I shook my head, and to my surprise, began to cry. 

"I can't," I said.  "I don't want to."  He looked at me, trying to understand my tears.  "I'm feeling a strong tension between wanting to be hopeful and not too hopeful," I said.  S gave me a hug. 

"That's why sometimes we just have to leave these things up to the universe," he said.  "You've done your job.  You've taken care of your body, you've been brave throughout this process, you've gone through the insemination.  Sometimes, like the Buddha said, our soul can't be in the physical world.  Sometimes we have to let go of control, and just allow what is meant to be to be.  The universe knows what you need.  It's okay." 

I hugged him back, and dried my tears, feeling eternally grateful to be the partner of such a supportive, understanding, and incredibly wise person.  Leaving it up to fate/the universe/destiny was an approach that definitely resonated with me in that moment. 

Thank you, S, for standing by my side and holding my hand during this complex, beautiful journey. 

My follicles grew!

It feels like such an accomplishment.  Even the doctor who did my ultrasound this morning framed it in that way.  "You responded well to 100mg of Clomid!"  she said.  "Look at those follicles, they are excellent, good job!"  As silly as it felt to receive praise for a process in which I was, at most, a hopeful but passive host to a biological process, it was a huge relief and a source of pride to know that there are 2 19mm follicles in my right ovary - exactly the right size to do an insemination later this week.  My prescription is to use the Ovidrel (trigger shot) on Wednesday evening, and come back to the clinic on Friday morning for IUI #2.  I am so excited.  By March 9th, we'll know whether or not I am pregnant. 

More Clomid

Well, things this cycle haven't gone quite as expected.  I ended up going into the clinic on Day 17 (last Monday), as instructed, since I hadn't yet gotten a positive ovulation test.  I met with a doctor who determined that my follicles hadn't grown.  The largest was at 13mm.  At this point during the first cycle, I had already used Ovidrel to trigger ovulation.  This time, there was nothing to trigger.  The doctor advised me to keep checking the ovulation kits for a few more days, and to return to the clinic on Thursday.  The truth was, I hadn't felt anything in my ovaries during the entire week.  I thought it was my body getting used to the Clomid.  In fact, it wasn't responding.

However, later that day, I ended up getting a positive ovulation test.   I was totally confused.  I began to question the doctor's exam, thinking that she hadn't looked closely enough at my left ovary.  "Perhaps she missed a larger follicle," I thought.  I called the nurse's line and was told to report to the clinic for another ultrasound on Tuesday morning.

S came with me on Tuesday - Valentine's Day.  We were uncertain whether or not we'd be ready for an IUI, so we figured it would be safer for him to come with me.  Unfortunately, it was confirmed my follicles hadn't grown.  The ovulation test was a false positive, which the doctor said was common in people with PCOS.  They drew blood and gave me a prescription for more Clomid - 100mg/day for another five days.  A "step-up," they called it, to see if my follicles would grow more during this cycle rather than have to wait to get my period and start another cycle from scratch.  The risk is that I might end up producing too many follicles, in which case we won't inseminate, lest, the doctor said, I "end up on the cover of the New York Post."

So today is Day 22 of my cycle.  I just finished my five day dose of Clomid, and have, this time, been feeling some activity, especially in the right ovary.  I report back to the clinic on Tuesday, 2/21.  Fingers crossed.

Cycle 2

Today is Day 12 of Cycle 2 of TTC.  I went to the clinic this morning for another ultrasound after having taken Clomid again for five days.  Our primary doctor ended up meeting with me, which brought me so much relief.  Even having sat with her for two brief meetings makes me feel so much more safe and comfortable with her.  I realized that for the next IUI, I'm going to ask for a female doctor to perform the insemination.  It makes a difference for me.

I am so glad I listened to S and my gut around the fact that I didn't want to wait another two months to keep moving forward in this process.  It requires so much patience as is, and I am grateful to have another opportunity to go through an IUI so soon after the last try.  I've been reading other queer TTC blogs and learning that really, for most folks, it does take time - sometimes a long time - and a lot of patience, willingness to keep trying, and money to get pregnant.   I'm trying to hold on to hope, albeit a more muted and cautious version than last time.

Mixed messages

It's rare I have the opportunity to write about a moment in this experience while I'm still going through it.  But I'm currently in Florida for work and happen to have a brief opportunity to process this moment "live." 

Before I left for Florida on Saturday morning, I did some counting and planning in my head.  I needed to go in to the clinic on days 2-5 of my next period.  And I would be in Florida for exactly five days.  That would mean as long as I didn't get my period on Saturday, I would be able to visit the clinic within the correct time frame. 

So of course, I got my period on Saturday, which became Day. 1.  I wouldn't be returning home until Day 6. 

I called the nursing staff at the clinic this morning to get some advice about how to navigate the situation.  Could I come in on Day 6?  Could they just give me a prescription for Clomid?  The answer to both questions was a resounding "no."  Come in between days 2-5, or wait until the next cycle.  My options were clear.  Either change my flight, or wait, given that I am living with PCOS, up to 60 days to begin the next cycle.  I hung up the phone and started crying.  And then I called S. 

"I don't understand what the signals mean," I said.  "Are we getting a sign that we should just wait?  That the timing isn't right?  That I should learn to be more patient?  Or is this a sign that I should go ahead and ask my boss if I can change my flight?  What if I do, and I cost the organization a lot of money?  Do I rearrange my work and life around this process, or do I rearrange my expectations around our timeline?"

S walked me through a quick exercise.  "What would it feel like to wait up to two months to start trying again?  Would you be okay with that?" he asked. 

"Of course," I said.  And then I started crying harder.  "But I don't WANT to wait.  I've been waiting years and years to do this.  I don't want to keep on postponing our plans.  I want to move forward now."

"Then the choice is clear," he replied.  "You know what you want.  Maybe the lesson you're supposed to learn is actually that you need to confront your discomfort around asking for what you need and deserve.  Your bosses know how hard you work.  Will they say no?"

"No," I admitted.  "But it's a lot of money to change the flight."   

"So it's just your own ethics and discomfort the in the way of you getting what you need.  To you, it's a lot of money.  In the context of your organization, it's not.  Can you talk to them?"

"Yes, I said.  The tears stopped flowing.  He was right.  I feel an enormous weight and pressure around being "perfect" and "good" and not asking for anything and making sure I am not causing a burden to anyone or costing anyone anything.  All the time, in nearly every context in which I exist.  Perhaps, this was a lesson in learning how to balance and navigate my professional and family life, in how to speak up and take care of myself. 

I cleaned up my face, went back to work, and talked to one of my bosses.  She agreed without blinking and in fact, told me she was grateful for my work, and had no problem with me changing the flight. 

So I did.  I'll be back home tomorrow, and visiting the clinic for morning monitoring on Wednesday.  Day 5.

2WW Symptoms, Part II

• 6 DPO:  Uterus feeling very full.  Mild cramps.  Creamy CM.
• 7 DPO:  Very irritable, not feeling like myself at the end of the day.  Crampy.  Creamy CM.
• 8 DPO:  Woke up with incredibly sore breasts.  Creamy CM.
• 9 DPO:  Cramping.
• 10 DPO:  Cramping.
• 11 DPO:  Cramping.  Feeling bloated.
• 12 DPO:  Really painful, sporatic cramps.  HPT#1 = BFN
• 13 DPO:  More cramps.  HPT #2 = BFN
• 14 DPO:  Nothing.  Blood pregnancy test at clinic confirms... BFN.

I am not pregnant.  I am waiting for my period.  Back to the drawing board.

HPT #1

I am really, really not in the mood to write right now.  In fact, I woke up early enough this morning to write, but decided to avoid it.  Instead, I checked Facebook, and caught up on all the local blogs.  I found out that the owner of Qathra is trying to buy the old Whisk space on Newkirk.  And I found out that there's some guy running "artisinal pencil sharpening classes" in Williamsburg. That's right. Or maybe it's services.  In any case, you bring him your pencils, and for a fee, he'll put on some goggles and sharpen them for you with some inordinate degree of precision that makes it an art.  And thus, worth the price.  I did all this in an attempt to spend some more time in bed, avoiding the day, avoiding thinking about the fact that I woke up early this morning to take a pregnancy test.  And it came out negative.

I had tried to tell myself that I was ready to accept whatever the outcome of this process, to trust the universe around timing, to trust my body.  And I do feel all those things.  I do feel trust and readiness and compassion for my body.  And at the same time, I felt - and still feel - overwhelming sadness.  Like, really, really sad.  I was so certain that the signals I was feeling in my body were signs of an implanted, growing cellular being in my womb.  Perhaps, all it was was some cramping as a result of a whole cycle fertility meds.  Perhaps all it was was a sign that my period (Aunt Flo, or AF) is on it's way.

I'm supposed to go into the clinic on Friday if I haven't gotten my period by then for a blood pregnancy test.  Because sometimes these home pregnancy tests aren't entirely accurate.  So there is still some hope.  And it may still be early to be testing.  I am on 12 DPO.  Some folks say they took HPTs during their actual pregnancies, and even then, they didn't come out positive.  So I'm trying to hold onto hope.  And trust that even if I'm not pregnant this cycle, I may become pregnant during the next.

I guess I just didn't anticipate how exhausting and emotional all this planning and waiting and anticipating and wondering would be.  Throughout most of the process so far I have been feeling ok, but I don't think until today I really thought about how much it could all build up.  And it has.  To end up at the end of eight weeks with a possible negative... feels frustrating.  It feels like grief.