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.