The last time I wrote, I was lamenting about the side effects of Clomid. Much has happened since that post was written. I will give you the condensed version of events that have occurred. In early November, we met with a fertility doctor who gave us great hope that IUI (intrauterine insemination) would be our solution. In December, we again tried Clomid and no IUI to start. Doctor moved me to Femara due to a short luteal phase. We did our first IUI in January to start the new year out with a bang!
Funny side story here. For anyone who is on a similar journey to myself you know that with an IUI comes an HCG trigger shot 36 hours before the procedure. We go in to see the doctor in January and he tells me I am right on time for ovulation. When we saw the nurse on the way out, I still thought in my pretty little head that they would do the shot for me. The first thing out of the nurse’s mouth is “have you ever given yourself a shot before?”. “No…”, I answered tentatively, still not sure what she is getting at. “Oh it’s easy, I will give you a brief tutorial”. “Are you really sure you trust me to do that?” I demanded of her. Listen, I know what you are thinking, but my Mom did not even trust me with sharp knives until I was 19. I’m accident prone! I can somehow sabotage the easiest thing. The first time my Mom trusted me to light a match: I lit the match on fire but the head broke off and flung right into the crease of her pant leg. See? A walking disaster.
The nurse showed me what to do, how to get rid of the air bubble and where to insert the needle. But that night I was still really nervous. My Mom has diabetes and has to give herself a shot everyday, so I called her first for help. She had plans that night. Then I called my mother-in-law, who has MS. She said she would come over and help. But it turns out my father in law was always the one to give her the shot because she could never do it. So here we all were standing in my kitchen: my husband, my mother-in-law, and father-in-law crowding all around me staring at my bare stomach and watching me with anticipation. It was an odd first self shot experience.
Anyways, the first IUI failed. I was a hot mess about it. Even up to the day of the second IUI I had doubts of doing a second round. But I went through with it. But I was so heartbroken that this time I didn’t track my temps, take any ovulation tests, and pretty much didn’t let my husband touch me all month. Doesn’t sound like a great set up of a second try does it? So when I found out on Thursday that our second IUI failed my husband and I both said no more. I feel so relieved and yet so guilt ridden. I think I have experienced every emotion possible in the last few days.
My mind keeps going back this week to the conversation that I had with my husband in May, when this all first came to light. What we would do, how far we would go, when we would just have to stop and walk away. I never thought, during any point in that conversation, that we would actually reach the point of having to stop trying and pick up the pieces of our lives and move on. And here we are, at the point where we agreed to do just that. And I realized that I am torn. I do want to walk away and piece my life back together. I want to move on from this constant month to month heartbreak of numerous ultrasounds, blood draws, pumping myself full of hormones just to see a negative pregnancy test at the end. The other part of me says to not give up so easily. But I think a break is definitely what we need at the moment.
A Weird Sort of Story 