TTC - One

I have never had to wait so often, for so long, for so many things, in all my 41 years.

There was an interminable wait for our day 3 ultrasound to find out how many "potential" follicles" I had for my second attempt at a medicated IUI cycle, we were thrilled to hear the number six. In fact, that might turn out to be too many for an IUI procedure - but we had come to terms with the very real potential of a multiple pregnancy by this time. I obsessed each night as I swallowed my 100mg Clomid pill, wondering what was going on inside my body. If last month had begun with 4 follicles and resulted in 2 eggs, then surely I could count on that as a minimum this time around. But what if there were three? Four? The madness of the roller coaster continued. And we waited. And the side effects grew in intensity, as we learned was to be expected with successive cycles on this medication.

Day 11 finally arrived after another night of broken sleep. My wife and I laid bets on how many eggs there would be this month. We both felt there would be three. Off we went to the clinic for the scan to hear...one. One. The same number I would have had with no medication. One may be all it takes, but after this many failed cycles it feels like a losing ticket. I acknowledged the change in my outlook, the mind games of going from desperately not wanting multiples, to feeling as though it was hardly worth the effort with only one egg.

Day 12 blood work came (after the usual black comedy of attempts to find my vein), and o surge.

Day 13 blood work came (after a morning spent plotting the murder of the blood techs), and there it was. Day 14 would be our big day, and of course it would be the only day that my beloved wife had unbreakable, long-standing plans. Time to call in reinforcements.

On day 14 I woke and soon found myself doubled over with abdominal cramps, and thinking I would have to cancel the procedure. I was panicked about whether there was time to stop the thawing of our $700 sample, and then decided I just don't have a month to waste. Suck it up. My close friend accompanied me as the IUI was performed by a nurse practitioner named Eileen, who happened to be 7 months pregnant. I joked that I really needed to start drinking the water at Mt. Sinai, at which point she looked at my sympathetically and apologized for her condition and said, "I can only imagine how hard this must be." I just hoped she would bring me some good luck.

As I suffered through the experience that I now realized would be the norm for me, Eileen tried to keep me distracted by asking a variety of questions, and my friend tried to support me with solid squeezing of my hand. Eileen was surprised by the difficulties as she admitted what was usually a 2-minute procedure for most women was 15 minutes of sheer torture for me. 

I made it through. And now we wait.

TTC - BFN

BFN  © Shutterbug

If I were smart (and if I actually had any available cash left after my myriad of treatments), I would be investing in one of the companies that makes these magical little sticks.

Judging from the number of comments on various forums and blogs, I am not the only woman who begins obsessing about these tests on the day of her IUI, and proceeds to make and break bargains with herself every day thereafter on when she will begin taking them. I've come full circle in the last year of madness: I began the process full of excitement and enthusiasm, testing far too early, then as pessimism loomed I tested later and later (because as long as you don't see a negative result, a positive one is still possible), and finally I am back to testing the moment a reliable result seems plausible. This time around I took 4 tests, which brings my running total up to…a zillion. Probably the financial equivalent of a really successful trip to the LCBO for some really excellent wine.

We tried to think positively and truly believe that this was the month, how could it not be with two lovely little eggs on their way? Each time we try we do our best to remain calm, be optimistic, create a soothing environment for nature to take its course, and balance all that with not getting our hopes up too high. I failed miserably at that part this time around.

I fear I am becoming one of "those women", the ones who see pregnant women at every turn and feel a combined rush of jealousy and irritation. The ones whose eyes pick out every news headline about abused children and shitty parents who think, "Really? THEY were able to pop out kids, but I can't?" I vacillate between wanting to talk about this process all the time, because it is on our minds all the time, and wanting to scream if someone asks me about it when I don't feel like sharing. 

My lovely wife and I can't help but examine our feelings every now and then, and both of us have to admit that our life together is already pretty full. Our time is our own, our money is our own (aside from this process), we can be spontaneous, we are madly in love, and we aren't anxious for any of those things to change. I worry that there is a reason this isn't working for me, that perhaps this isn't the path I'm supposed to take. I worry that I am too old, too tired, too impatient, too set in my ways to be the kind of parent I would want to be, and that the stress of parenting could damage our marriage. But when our neighbour's little boy threw his arms around my legs and called out my name, tears sprung to my eyes…and I have to believe that is also an indication of what is missing in my life. Children's clothing and book stores are like a magnet for my wife, where she can get lost for hours shopping for our future child.

So I guess we press on until the decision is much clearer. Clomid, round two.

My day 3 u/s this time showed a minimum of six follicles, in which I took irrational pride.

There are still so many hurdles to clear, even if we finally get a BFP. I can't believe we can't even seem to get to that stage of the game.

Please let this be the month.