I was just looking over my sad, lonely little blog and noticing that the last time I posted was back in April. Hello? Is anyone still there? Diehards? My mom? There is a reason though. A reason why I haven’t shared all the wonderful moments from Audrey’s birthday in March where we took her to Disneyland for the first time and basically used her college fund to pay for Character Breakfast. And why there are no photos of her looking for Easter eggs with her cousins, and why you have yet to see, and hear, about her first day of pre-school.
I was in a funk.
BUT, it get’s better.
Back in September of last year we were referred to a fertility clinic here in Arizona by my sweet doctor who had done all she can. This was our next step. I was nervous and I put it off as long as I could as I always said I wasn’t going to strap my family with a financial burden for something technically unnecessary and un-guaranteed. But here we were, creeping up on 37 and a half and not getting any younger. It was time to take the plunge.
In mid April I went in for an HSG (Hysterosalpingogram) and I was scared to death. I, of course like any rational person with an internet connection, went online and searched for How painful is an HSG? Answer: very. Essentially what happens is you lie down on a very hard, very cold table, naked as the day you were born from the waist down, and try not to move…or breathe. This is very hard to do when someone is man-handling your sensitive bits with some sort of cold solution. You ever see people sand blasting a sidewalk? Now scale that down to very tiny and inside your vagina. It’s like THAT.
What they are looking for is a reason why you are not getting pregnant, they are looking for blockages of tissue. However, this treatment is not only diagnostic in terms of finding whats wrong but it’s also therapeutic in that if there is a blockage the act of looking for said blockage usually tends to knock it out. Like a BOGO sale. Buy one, get one.
If you are planning on doing this my advice to you is: one whole Xanax and 4 Advil. But that’s just me and I’m not a doctor. In fact, don’t listen to me at all.
Now I have heard story after story of people successfully getting pregnant after this procedure, as soon as days after. Becasue of this it was back on the clomid. The first month was unsuccessful and I know it was just the first month but I was back to being discouraged. Throughout all this I was also wondering how much more my marriage could take. Maybe this is something that most people don’t talk about when discussing infertility but its so painfully hard on your marriage. You’re not happy, you’re obsessed, you’re stressed, your partner feels this. I think in some ways my husband felt at fault and just as guilty as I did. Then there’s the on demand sex. Oh yes, you’re tired, you’re grumpy, you’re bloated from the clomid, let’s get naked.
Uh, no. Let’s not.
Then you argue. Then you feel undesirable. Then you feel demanding and rigid and unreasonable.
Infertility is as awful place to be for everyone. This is supposed to be fun right? You start to feel…unwomanly. For lack of a better term, defective.
Month 2, post HSG, back on the clomid, calendar is marked with doctor appointments and little hearts where we should be doing it but this time they added shots. I went in for a sonogram to make sure the clomid was working and there was a big fat egg just waiting. The shots were to release the egg and then we wait…again.
On Father’s Day I took a pregnancy test…
Well, now that the cats out of the bag I can regale you with stories about morning sickness and panic attacks. All fun stuff so stay tuned…