This morning, at my bi/tri/whatever weekly ultrasound/blood appointment I learned this month's round of IUI (intrauterine insemination, aka artificial insemination) failed. Everything looked good on Friday and I was scheduled for Sunday morning. Sunday is tricky: they perform IUI and IVF procedures but there is very limited staff present, so I was not given an ultrasound to ensure I ovulated. We took it that I did, or was about to, because of my ultrasound and blood results from Friday. Matt also gave me an HCG shot Friday night to induce ovulation. This morning I went to the doctor to make sure all was well, and wouldn't you know it, my (now huge) follicle was still hanging out in my ovary. It's now past maturity and not viable. Matt and I can't run home and have sex in the hopes it drops today because my cervical mucus (yes - very sexy) is hostile due to a side-effect of my medication (the medication that grows that sucker of an egg). So you're just left feeling hopeless.
I called Matt on the drive into work, crying. I always cry in the car now: first of all, it kills two birds with one stone because I cry nearly everyday, and really, with television shows premiering these next few weeks, I don't want it to intercede with my trashy tv viewing. Crying in the car is perfect because it also gives you a limit on your self-pity: you have to stop by the time you arrive at your destination. And if you're going to work you can't get too blubbery because you're wearing mascara.
I cried because I was sad and frustrated. And that's the beautiful and tragic thing about infertility: each cycle is independent of the next, so you grow hopeful (again) and invariably are disappointed (again). I cried about all the appointments, the money spent on the medication and the procedure, and I cried because, damnit, this positively, absolutely, 100% sucks.
But there's definitely some beautiful moments in all of this. Matt and I are closer because we're going through the up's and down's together (although I wish he was probed half as much as I was). We tack on a lunch or breakfast out with our weekend appointments. We've retained our humor (hard to believe with my recent posts, I know). And we know we'll be parents, somehow, someday. Until then, we have no problem doting (just a little too much) on our dog, Penny.