That's what we dubbed today after a really positive IUI experience. S gave me the Ovidrel injection two nights ago, and we showed up at the clinic this morning ready to inseminate. I felt hopeful and happy about the process. We worked on a crossword puzzle while we waited our turn.
We had some time alone in the examination room before the doctor arrived. S held my hands and said a little prayer. I felt deeply connected to him, grounded, at peace. Ready to trust the universe. The doctor who performed the insemination was one of my favorites at the clinic, a woman who performed my pap smear back in December and was friendly, kind, and respectful. I was relieved to see her, and with good reason. The IUI ended up being the least uncomfortable of the three. S held my hand and gave me kisses during the quick procedure. He reminded me to breathe and relax. The doctor said, "now that's a supportive partner!" I felt so blessed.
In the ten minutes we had to connect and be together after the insemination, S put his warm hand on my uterus and we kissed. It was a sweet, meaningful private moment. During which he tried to convince me we should play hooky from work and spend the sunny day in the park or at the zoo. We decided, instead, to go out for a special breakfast before work. We found a European-themed cafe nearby and celebrated our conception day with french toast, decaf coffee, an egg white omelet with asparagus and onions, and earl grey tea. I had a wide grin on my face throughout our special meal, and felt lighthearted and happy throughout the entire day. I had no cramping or discomfort.
Regardless of what happens during the next two weeks, I trust my body, I trust the process, and I am grateful to have shared such a beautiful day with S. I felt better than I had in weeks, for a variety of reasons both tangible (large follicle, non-painful IUI, good doctor) and spiritual. I am grateful for the opportunity to attempt to bring our first child into the world.
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Monday, March 26, 2012
25 Millimeters
I went to the clinic this morning for another ultrasound, and learned I have one nice large follicle in my right ovary, just about ready to release. The 100mg dose of Clomid worked! It's the largest follicle I've had out of all the cycles so far. That, in some way, made me feel better, more hopeful, than I did during Cycle 2. I also produced an abundance of "egg white" or "fertile" CM today, which again, made me feel optimistic. I think our timing is right this time around. My body feels more ready than ever to go through the process of ovulation, insemination, and conception.
I plan to focus my energy during the next few days on being grounded, holding onto hope, staying connected to S, and praying.
I plan to focus my energy during the next few days on being grounded, holding onto hope, staying connected to S, and praying.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
The future embryo
Went to the clinic this morning - Cycle 3, CD11. Met with a male doctor whom I've come to trust over the past couple months. He is very explicit and intentional about everything he does and says. He is clear about what I can expect ("now you'll feel this, now I'm going to look at the follicles on the left, do you have any questions about the process?") As he measured the thickness of my uterine lining today, he said, "this is where the future embryo will implant." It was a minor statement, in many regards, but one that struck me as very hopeful and optimistic. It made me feel good. Maybe even a little hopeful myself. I only had one large follicle so far (14mm on the right), and he told me to begin checking my ovulation kits and to come back into the office for another ultrasound on Monday. At this rate, if the one follicle continues to grow, I anticipate we'll be doing the next IUI at the end of the month.
Monday, March 12, 2012
On intimacy
The other day I was on the phone with a friend, talking about trying to get pregnant. And she mentioned to me that another friend of ours, who is currently in a heterosexual relationship, is also trying to get pregnant. "She was supposed to ovulate on the third of the month," she said, "so they made sure to have sex on the second."
The first thought that crossed my mind was, "sex?"
The process of TTC for me, at this point, has become so far removed from sex that I actually forgot that some people can get pregnant that way. By turning to their partner, getting close, and being intimate. In bed. And maybe even having fun and finding pleasure in the process.
TTC has rendered my relationship with intimacy and my body into something kind of uncomfortable and awkward. In general, TTC has actually meant not having sex. When S and I tried to get physical during the first IUI cycle, I kind of freaked out. My body had been examined and touched and poked so many times that it was hard to erase the medicalized feelings I was having about my body. Fertility drugs made me constantly feel run down and crampy and just constantly conscious of my hardworking reproductive system. And during the 2WW, a part of me was concerned that being physical might cause something to "disrupt" the process of implantation (which I knew, rationally, was not going to happen, but I couldn't help feeling it).
To hear that our friend was having the opportunity to try to get pregnant with a body that ovulates regularly, with access to fresh sperm that belongs to her partner, and in a way that involves closeness and connection and safety and privacy and fun made me feel... resentful. Bitter. Frustrated about the challenges being queer and dealing with infertility bring to our lives. Frustrated that others have it so "easy."
The first thought that crossed my mind was, "sex?"
The process of TTC for me, at this point, has become so far removed from sex that I actually forgot that some people can get pregnant that way. By turning to their partner, getting close, and being intimate. In bed. And maybe even having fun and finding pleasure in the process.
TTC has rendered my relationship with intimacy and my body into something kind of uncomfortable and awkward. In general, TTC has actually meant not having sex. When S and I tried to get physical during the first IUI cycle, I kind of freaked out. My body had been examined and touched and poked so many times that it was hard to erase the medicalized feelings I was having about my body. Fertility drugs made me constantly feel run down and crampy and just constantly conscious of my hardworking reproductive system. And during the 2WW, a part of me was concerned that being physical might cause something to "disrupt" the process of implantation (which I knew, rationally, was not going to happen, but I couldn't help feeling it).
To hear that our friend was having the opportunity to try to get pregnant with a body that ovulates regularly, with access to fresh sperm that belongs to her partner, and in a way that involves closeness and connection and safety and privacy and fun made me feel... resentful. Bitter. Frustrated about the challenges being queer and dealing with infertility bring to our lives. Frustrated that others have it so "easy."
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Another day, another stick
Today is 12 DPO, so I woke up this morning ready to take a pregnancy test. This 2WW has been very different than the last. Virtually no "symptoms" of anything - possible pregnancy or AF's impending arrival. I didn't document anything, interpret anything, hope for anything, think about it much at all.
But when I rolled out of bed, I just knew. I could feel it in my body. And the single line on the stick confirmed it. I am not pregnant.
While the blow wasn't as hard as during the last cycle, it was hard not to feel sad. Another six weeks gone. Time to begin counting the baby-less days and weeks again. I came back to bed and S hugged me tight. He wiped away my tears of disappointment. Later, he sent me sweet text messages reminding me that we are already a family, he and I. That we are on our journey. That all we need to do is breathe.
In a wise move to plan for some self-care - somewhat in anticipation of getting either good or bad news this morning - we made plans earlier this week to go to a lesbian comedy show tonight. It was such a treat to spend the evening with one of our favorite political comedians, Marga Gomez. I laughed heartily, drank a beer, and tried to shake the nagging disappointment away.
But when I rolled out of bed, I just knew. I could feel it in my body. And the single line on the stick confirmed it. I am not pregnant.
While the blow wasn't as hard as during the last cycle, it was hard not to feel sad. Another six weeks gone. Time to begin counting the baby-less days and weeks again. I came back to bed and S hugged me tight. He wiped away my tears of disappointment. Later, he sent me sweet text messages reminding me that we are already a family, he and I. That we are on our journey. That all we need to do is breathe.
In a wise move to plan for some self-care - somewhat in anticipation of getting either good or bad news this morning - we made plans earlier this week to go to a lesbian comedy show tonight. It was such a treat to spend the evening with one of our favorite political comedians, Marga Gomez. I laughed heartily, drank a beer, and tried to shake the nagging disappointment away.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Reflections on the 2WW
I've been working hard this time around to not think too much about the 2WW. I'm trying not to pay too much attention to my reproductive system, trying not to interpret any feelings I might be having in my body as possible symptoms of pregnancy, not tracking what's actually happening - or not - each day.. And generally, it has been working. I feel calmer and in some ways, less invested in the process this time around. If it happens, it happens. If it doesn't, we'll try again. Trying to maintain a neutral stance, mostly.
Not that it's easy. Today I was very aware of how sharp my sense of smell seemed to be. Spices in my apartment, perfume on the train, cologne near my cubicle. It all seemed to be very present today. And tried as I might, I couldn't help but notice that either the smells around me were particularly strong, or my sense of them was heightened. I couldn't tell if it was my mind playing games despite my best efforts, or just simply raw hope that perhaps, this time, the IUI actually worked.
Not that it's easy. Today I was very aware of how sharp my sense of smell seemed to be. Spices in my apartment, perfume on the train, cologne near my cubicle. It all seemed to be very present today. And tried as I might, I couldn't help but notice that either the smells around me were particularly strong, or my sense of them was heightened. I couldn't tell if it was my mind playing games despite my best efforts, or just simply raw hope that perhaps, this time, the IUI actually worked.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Post-IUI
Post-IUI, I ended up having a day filled with unexpected, very strong cramps. So much so that I had trouble going to the bathroom, trouble sitting at my desk, trouble walking in high heeled boots for hours upon end. Upon arriving home all I wanted to do was put on some non-binding pants and curl up on the couch. Which is exactly what I did. At that point, I suddenly had a mild fever and nausea (which, to be honest, might have been the outcome of some random Thai food I ordered for lunch today). Nevertheless, I was exhausted, run-down, and physically very uncomfortable. Ultimately I caved and decided to take some acetaminophen to relieve some of my pain. When I searched "post-IUI cramping" on the Internet, I found some testimonials from fellow TTCers saying it was completely normal and might actually an outcome of using fertility meds, ovulation and the catheter. It was a completely different experience than last time, but reassuring to know that it wasn't totally out of the realm of IUI experiences.
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