Monday, September 20, 2010

IUI Insanity

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.


  1. as incredibly turbulent as this journey is, it is revealing a great deal (at least to the blogosphere) about your profound determination and aplomb. it is the kind of heart-warming where i wouldn't want to imagine a world where you two are not parents. my greatest hopes are with you, continually.

  2. Girl, as much as your situation breaks my heart, the breaks somehow make my hope for you and Matt stronger. I can't possibly think of any words to help console you, but in your previous post you mentioned not quitting anytime soon and I just want you to know how much I admire and support that.

    You are resilient; stay encouraged. Whenever you need to laugh you know where to find me.

  3. Hey listen, I don't know how I ended up here but I'm sure it was karma. My girl is in the hospital, making the "Remicade vs another 24" loss of small bowel" decision. We tried and tried as the years passed like a speedometer on the interstate, with several false starts complete with crash and burn endings. Then we dove into IVF and can you imagine we got one to stick. He is now 11 and his bro is 7 (natural too boot !) We are past our early forties and all is forgiven. I'm not saying it was easy (cause it was really really hard) but sometimes you have to be willing to fight every single day for what you want.

    One Love

  4. Girls,
    Thank you for your support. I had a wonderful, revitalizing weekend and feel good. I was also so warmed by your comments.

    Glad to hear the similiaries in our stories. You all have buoyed my spirits - thank you so much for that.