IUI #2: failure

Well, the call came in at around 2:30.
You can tell with the tone in their voice and the sight hesitation as they speak. You know it's going to be bad news.
This month it is affecting me much more than last month. The knowledge that another month has come and gone with nothing. It makes me wonder how many more months I can continue.

The Waiting Game

The pregnancy blood test is officially this week. I will go in Thursday morning to get stabbed for the lab work. I feel...
Numb. I believe that is the most honest, most correct way to paraphrase how I feel this month. I feel slight anxiety and dread and fear, but most of my emotions are numbed. How many months now have I been through with negatives or a positive that turned into a devastating miscarriage?
Husband and I are planning a trip this summer. A trip to end all trips to Wales and a long drive through Scotland and London and then Vienna and Budapest. I will love it and cherish those memories forever, but I would trade it all in a heartbeat for a little one. The planning of the trip is slightly painful. Two years ago hubby and I planned a backpacking trip around continental Europe, excited because we were in the beginning stages of trying. "It's our last huzzah!" we said to each other.
This time we do have better odds. Husband's sperm count is more than triple what it was. Last month we were working with 2.5 million and this month we had a whopping approximate 10 million. Last month's count was a joke.
In the end, I don't know what will happen. I'm hopeful, but experience now dictates that I remain a pessimist and doubtful.
Here's to the lovely two week wait that is nearly over for me, for this month.

IUI number two

I went in on Thursday for my second IUI. It was a breeze compared to the first one. It was also the first time husband and I drove to the clinic in one car! Normally I have work when the appointment has ended and he has to hustle up to school.
The waiting room was sparsely filled with other patients and we settled down on a loveseat as we waited for my name to be called.
We talk about all sorts of things in the waiting room. Maybe we talk to appear normal. It's normal to be in the waiting room of a fertility doctor. We need to put on the facade just like everyone else.
You see all types of people at the doctor. I've seen plenty of mother/daughter duos. I know if my mother was alive and healthy, she'd be there whenever I wanted her to be. You see the sad women. You see the first timers with their huge packet of papers. You see moms that already have children. I wonder how they feel. Do they hurt any less than I do because they already have little ones to love?
Every time the door opens, I sit up slightly in anticipation. The more the door opens and other women's names are called, the less attention is paid by me.
On Thursday we waited around fifteen minutes. I heard my name called and we were ushered into our procedural room. I whispered to my husband that I hoped my favorite nurse would do the procedure. I've seen several nurses, but she's the one we have seen the most. She waves to me when we see each other across the clinic. Of course she did not walk I the door when we heard the courtesy knock.
She used a different catheter than last time and it only took a couple minutes from start to finish.
The progesterone this time is causing lots of emotions. Mostly negative ones. I hope the two week wait goes by faster until the next blood draw on the 21.

Hcg trigger shot

This morning I was supposed to inject myself with hcg hormone in my stomach.
I meticulously prepped the fluid and triple checked to make sure there were no bubbles in the container.
And then...I couldn't do it. I knew it wouldn't hurt. After having my blood drawn over 20 times in the past year, I was past any thought of pain from the needle. It was the idea of inflicting harm upon myself.
I thought back to an experience I had as a teen. I managed to step on a toothpick and gouge it quite a ways into my foot. I was never able to remove it. No. It's not still in my foot. I made my brother pull it out.
After thirty minutes of trying to psych myself up and counting down and the distraction of Sia and MJ crooning into my ear (not together), I begged my husband to be a man and stab me.
He got it done in less than ten seconds.
Bless him.
Neither one of us knew if he'd be able to; he gets squeamish around blood and needles and the likes.
Now I have an appointment for tomorrow for IUI number two to hopefully work.

Second IUI

Current news:
Today was my fourth appointment at the fertility clinic in a week. I took Clomid starting on Wednesday for five days. Today they said my largest follicle was 16 mm. They think it will naturally get as big as we want by Wednesday so I get to do my first hcg shot Wednesday morning to simulate the ovulation. The cute nurse showed me how to do it, but I wish my husband would have been there to help take mental notes.
The first IUI took a long time. Hopefully we'll be good enough so that it won't take 45 minutes to eventually get the catheter in to inject the sperm.

Miscarriage Number One

After receiving the news that I was going to miscarry what was growing inside of me, I was in shock for a day or two.
Returning to work on Monday, I moped around and was not myself. I could not concentrate on work, and my job is one that needs full concentration. I mulled over the decision of wanting to miscarry naturally. That was what I wanted, wasn't it? I wanted to give birth to children naturally, so what was different about this?
However, after talking with coworkers and really thinking through what the miscarriage entailed, I decided it would be better to have medicine get things started. I had a field trip and parent teacher conferences filling my next week. I could not afford to have things start with 30 kids on public transit. I shakily called the office to tell them that I had changed my mind; I wanted the pill.
They made my appointment for that Thursday and told me to take Thursday and Friday off of work.
Wednesday night I was at school late, making extra sure that everything was ready to go. My principal had a TV show viewing party that I hit up. I recall sitting between my two favorite coworkers, shoving fatty pizza and sugary soda into my body. I wasn't growing anything that needed extra care now, so I could do what I wanted.
Thursday morning I headed to the office by myself. My husband had class and he could not get out of it. One last ultrasound "just in case." I then had four prescriptions written out for me and I was sent on my way.
Why go anywhere else when you can to to a SuperTarget pharmacy? I handed in the prescriptions and then proceeded to fill the 20 minute wait time with pity shopping. I loaded my cart with Nutella cups, egg rolls, sour cream and onion flavored something, and chocolate milk. On the way out, I grabbed the prescriptions and numbly shook my head when the pharmacist asked if I had any questions. I was trying to get something that usually brings happiness and joy into people's lives out of my body. How could I mess that up?
At home, I made a nest with blankets, my computer, a couple books, and the pity food and inserted the suppository. And...nothing.
I inserted the suppository at around noon.
The afternoon flew by.
Still nothing.
I downed most of the pity food and checked for bleeding every half hour.
As 4:30 neared, I had a decision to make. I had a Master's class at 4:30 and again at 7:15, but nothing was showing signs of starting. 'How bad can the start of a miscarriage be?' I mused. I emailed both professors to let them know the basics of what was happening, but insisted I would still show up for class.
"Do not come! This is what I would consider a medical emergency," was the reply from both of them.

I went to class. (Why did I go to class?)

Class number one was fine. Near the end, I noticed a bit of bleeding. Finally!
Class number two started and I began to feel different.
Normally I have an extremely heavy flow. Not a super dramatic girl's "heavy flow," but legit triple times the bleeding of an average woman heavy flow. This was more. This was intense and gushing and crazy.
I thankfully had the sense to leave the class early. I could tell I was having major leakage. I was living the nightmare that many teenage girls have. I could tell it was spreading everywhere. The car could not come soon enough. Thankfully it was shortly before 8 and I did not pass anyone else on my flight to my car. I briefly thought of my stain-free light colored driver's seat as I sat down in shock. I really felt for the first time that I was loosing the growing mass inside of myself. In a sea of hysteric tears and uncontrollable bleeding, I safely made it home. I was shaking like mad and pleading in prayer the entire way.
Once home, I was not sure how I would get out of my car. I did not want to see the damage nor did I want to get blood anywhere else. I did not know what to do. The doctor did not prep me for this. (What to do if you are bleeding so quickly, you leak through a pad in ten minutes...) I felt very alone. When I did get out of my car, I could not help but look down. It looked like a murder scene. There was enough blood for a murder scene in my car.
When I got inside, I stripped and plopped down on the toilet. The clots that started coming out really made me start to lose it. At this point I started texting my husband, begging him to come home from work. He wasn't sure how bad it really was. I begged again. He relented and was home within fifteen minutes. When he came in, he was surprised by all the blood. We both fretted over the clots and blood that were pouring out.
It took almost an hour for the blood to slow enough for me to feel comfortable getting off the toilet. We spend the rest of the night with me sitting on a plastic bag while we watched Downton Abbey.
While the blood did not take long to subside pouring out of me, the bleeding did not completely terminate for six weeks.