The title sums up this weekend and how I’m feeling. I present the less than glamorous side of infertility. Struggling. Putting on a happy face and going through the motions because…well, that’s what one does in this nightmare.
Yesterday took the OPK, and it was negative. That was miserable to process. I mean I had figured that at least this (ovulate) I can do! Not only do, but can succeed at! Dumbest thought ever. Per my doctors instructions, I had to take another OPK this morning. Fine, no big deal…until I was instantly able to tell that this stick was showing a negative result. So, we are into our second month and were hoping to do the same thing as last month (Clomid, HCG, and IUI) but now I’m not even ovulating. …but I’m fortunate enough that I get to have another ultrasound tomorrow morning. Woo-fricken-hoo.
I’ve had to text my doctor the results yesterday, and today so that he could determine when we’d be scheduling the IUI. His response today was “ok, do the test tomorrow too, and I will see you in the morning!” REALLY? Another one? Pleaseeeee make the negative results stop. At this point I’m praying that I just ovulate that month. Forget getting pregnant, can I just get a mature egg to release?! I mean it’s not like I’m asking for a Herculean undertaking, but clearly I am.
When we first started this journey, I jokingly said we are going to be the people that go through all of this poking, prodding, and everything else and never end up with a baby. Who says that? Me. Why would I say that? Because, well why plan on something happening when it hasn’t happened on its own in YEARS. A doctor is going to write some magical prescription, scan my uterus, and “fertilize” me…and poof, baby? Hahaha. Clearly you aren’t well acquainted with my body. I am firmly starting to believe that my uterus looks like this:
Barren. Inhospitable. Desolate. Bleak. Arid. Unwelcoming.
I have never ever in my life been more upset or disappointed with my own body. I know what you are thinking, “you are being ludicrous!” No, I am not. The definition of female is, “of or denoting the sex that can bear offspring or produce eggs, distinguished biologically by the production of gametes (ova) that can bear fertilized by male gametes.”
Go ahead and read that again.
I can do half of that. HALF! But apparently this month, none of it. My body can NOT do what it is supposed to do, and so far, it isn’t even doing what it should be doing after medical intervention. This is and has always been one of the biggest struggles for me. My own body is refusing to do the ONE thing it SHOULD be doing. Females are designed to be able to procreate, but not me. The fact that I know people who haven’t used protection ONCE and have gotten pregnant makes me want to literally pull my nails out. …and maybe theirs as well. Every month for the last, I will call it 36 months (because it’s not like there is a star on the calendar for when we actively started trying,) my body has failed me.