9 In No Time

Just finished my 9th Gonal F injection for this cycle. It’s hard to believe it’s been nine straight days of injections. It will be an early Friday morning for me as it’s the 3rd UltraBlood combination appointment…at 6am 😳

Overall I’m not thrilled with how I was feeling yesterday and my blog post. No regrets, but these are the highs and lows of this journey. This week I seem to be cruising steady in the “low lane.” Hopefully tomorrow will bring a lane change, along with some mature follicles; it will also be CD12. 

My nerves and anxiety are partially due to previous experiences with another doctor around this time frame in my cycle. There were two mistimed cycles where my ovulation was “missed,” and everything leading up to that point in time, was going well. Follicles were steadily growing, lining was looking “lush,” and poof: we’ve missed it. So I’m hyper aware of what cycle day I am, and when things should be happening. Fingers crossed for tomorrow! 

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Cinco ✔️

20 minutes ago was my fifth injection of Gonal F at the dosage of 112.5. 

Tomorrow morning, I get probed and punctured. I’m officially undecided if I’m sarcastic because it’s funny, or sarcastic with this topic specifically because it’s a level of self protection. I suppose I’ll call it both when it comes to the infertility journey. After the ultrasound has been reviewed, and the labs are back, the “team” will consult. From there the dose will get adjusted; up or down, it’ll still be injections. 

I survived the first five! Here’s my “basket of trophies.” HCG injection was from a previous unsuccessful cycle while taking Clomid. I know that there aren’t many needles in there compared to others, but this is where we are during our struggle. 

Tomorrow, we INJECT!!

Haven’t blogged in a few days, but that is because there wasn’t much to say. Well, that’s not entirely the truth, so let’s get you all caught up! 

Monday we went for our STD/HIV testing. Overall nothing earth shattering…the lab tech was a bitch. The lab was supposed to open at 7am, which was when our appointments were scheduled for, but she didn’t get there until 7:15ish. She then allowed the 3 other people who didn’t have appointments to go first, despite DH and I waiting, in addition to another person who had a 7:05am appointment. Here’s a notion, if it’s your first day back from a week long vacation, maybe you should show up early. Just a casual suggestion. Anyway, my blood wasn’t drawn until 7:50am. She complained the entire time, basically threw the urine sample cup at me, and I could feel the needle being reinserted in my vein EVERYTIME she changed the vial. There were 4 of those changes. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Worst part was watching DH have his done, she definitely seemed to be doing more of an exploratory blood draw on him, and at one point he turned green. She’s lucky he didn’t throw up on her. 

My period started Monday, so tomorrow is day 3…and that means INJECTIONS!!! But before that, I have to have my Q&A phone call with the nurse about my Gonal-F injections. Wednesday night is shot time. I will be doing 5 days (Wednesday through Sunday) of 112.5iu. I have no anxiety about giving myself these. Which is interesting because the first time I had to give myself the HCG injection, I was anxiety ridden all day. Tomorrow, I’m thinking the nerves will stay at bay, but I’m sure at some point I’ll have a freak out moment. Probably when I have to attach the needle tip! Eeeeeeep. Just some casual Tuesday night reading…

Things I won’t be looking forward to: the bloating! I’ve heard and have read nightmare stories about this. Has anyone had any interesting side effects while taking their medications? Suggestions about the injections themselves? I secretly ove having my own little stash of alcoholic swabs. It makes me feel like a nurse…which was what I wanted to be when I was younger…but that’s another story! 

Here’s to being on the road again to the amusement park. The big bright colored rollercoaster of infertility treatments is looming in the distance, and we’re almost in the parking lot getting ready to pay our entry fees. 

Shut The Front Door

Let me start with this: thank you to all of you that are following this journey, sharing yours, and helping me keep my sanity! For those of you that are new to my blog, you’re in good hands. There’s a fabulous group of women that will lift you up when you need it, and be there with you in your darkest moments. If you ever have ANY questions, please don’t hesitate to ask me. This is an open blog! If my story and struggles make things easier for you, allow you a tiny smirk or chuckle, then I know I’m doing something right.


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Second ultrasound of the week was this morning. No, there was no excitement. I didn’t want to go. I wanted to stay at home, sleep later, and not deal with the anxiety. Alas, I rolled out of bed, showered, and was out the door. On my drive to the appointment I had this overwhelming since of dread, and knew that again this month, it failed. 
Upon my arrival the receptionist kept commenting how great my hair always looks, how I seem so nice and tan, and that she loved my dress. Ok, this I could get used to at 6:45am, especially since I am not a morning person. After checking my vitals (down a few pounds!!) I was ushered into the ultrasound room. I knew from my appointment Monday that my doctor would not be there today or tomorrow, which didn’t bother me.  The ultrasound tech is probably one of my favorite employees. She is always so nice, and has truly proven to be someone  I can talk to, and don’t feel uncomfortable around when I have a moment of emotional waivering. We were chatting about weekend plans, how our weeks were going, etc., she commented that my lining looked “nice an plump,” and unlike my bloodwork yesterday, these are good things. Then the conversation abruptly ceased. The ultrasound was finished, and she said “if I have to, I’ll see you tomorrow, otherwise have a good weekend. Someone will call you later today with results,” and walked out of the room. 

I guess we were done. Why bother calling, I knew it was bad new and that the conversation would revolve around the next course of action. Begrudgingly, off to work I went. 
This afternoon, in the middle of thinking about how one affords multiple rounds of IVF (bank robbery?) my doctors office called. I was fully armed, and my body was rigidly braced in preparation of the news. The nurse was speaking…blah blah blah…”you need to come back in tomorrow for an ultrasound and then go for bloodwork immediately following that,” blah blah blah…”I just spoke with the Doctor and things are progressing along quite nicely, which is why we have to have you do both the ultrasound and the bloodwork.” Me, “WHAT?!” Her, “yes everything looks very good!”
Shut the front door! Shut the back door! Shut all the damn doors! Now do the biggest freakin’ happy dance you know how to do!!! He was wrong on Monday! Yahoo!! It hasn’t failed. Wahoo!! Fingers crossed that tomorrow continues along on this upward swing…

Day 4 Ultrasound 

Well well well, here we are again. Friday I received the monthly bulletin: “YOU ARE NOT PREGNANT. YOU ARE NOT PREGNANT. ENJOY THE NEXT 5-7 DAYS.” So I sat by the pool all weekend long, drank lots of Corona, and had a blast with my DH. Friday I had texted my doctor letting him know it was day 1 of my cycle, and after a few other messages were exchanged, he got back to me letting me know I had an ultrasound Monday, today, at 7:30am. I wish I could say that this was exciting news, but having done this twice now, I already KNEW that at some point on Monday, I’d be reunited with the stirrups. 

The ultrasound showed no cysts, which is good, and means we can move forward with the Clomid. My favorite little white pills start getting popped tomorrow morning. I can not WAIT for the 5 day headache!!! Ha. Ha. Ha. Anyway, today my doctor wanted everyone to know if I had any “serious side effects from previously taking the Clomid.” What is considered serious? No, I wasn’t an emotional lunatic, I wasn’t violently ill, but I had a headache that was untouchable, and midsection inflation to the point where I felt like I was going to pop.  But, no I guess I didn’t have any serious side effects. 

There was some new decor in the office, a 4’x 4′ magnetic board proudly displaying pictures of babies! Said board is in the hallway on the way to ALL of the exam rooms, so you can’t miss it. 

I don’t like it. 

Not at all. 

Not a little bit. 

I don’t even think it’s in the least bit optimistic. It’s another reminder that we are there because we don’t have a chubby half naked baby grinning ear to ear. It’s another red flag saying, “hey! You’ve failed at this for two months WITH medical help!” Am I happy that our doctor has had successes? YES! But I do NOT want to see the success of others, especially while I am in the process of trying to have my own. Once we have our own success, I’ll be more than happy to let him toss up a picture of my baby. But until then, my blinders are on. I will walk with my head down, a blindfold on, or with my back towards the baby wall; I don’t want to see more pictures being added.

So in less than 12 hours, round three commences. 

Although my hope remains tempered, I know that I have the courage to go through another round even though the odds aren’t favorable. However, because courage is something I admire most in others, here are a few quotes for all of you lovely ladies and gents smiling through the pain, battling the odds, and fighting month after month to have your babies. 




Father’s Day 

A laborious breakfast spread is laid on the table, as I wait for my husband to get out to bed. I’ve been up since just after 4am; homemade pastries, meats, homemade waffles, a quiche etc., are all waiting to be devoured. Sitting in the middle of the table is a small little card, in an unaddressed envelope. Upon stumbling into the kitchen he sighs with delight seeing the cornucopia of yummy breakfast foods in front of him. Still half asleep he reaches for his piping hot cup of coffee while side eyeing the card. I don’t make a fuss. I sit there sipping my coffee and feeling the heat trickle down my throat as anticipation and nerves rise at a monumental rate. I dab away the flakes from the buttery croissant and coyly say “good morning,” while sliding the card closer towards him. He meets my eye, and I can see the comprehension of me silently willing him to open the card. As he grabs the card, I can see his optimism and hope, the desire to be a father in his eyes. Meanwhile, I sit there knowing our lives will never be the same. 
Dreams my friends, are sometimes much worse than nightmares. 

I slowly roll over reaching out for my DH and realize once again, that dream sequence is not my reality. Not on any past Father’s Day, not on this Father’s Day, and not anytime soon. Begrudgingly, I haul myself out of bed, and plaster that academy award winning smile on my face to greet the world, or to just stare endlessly into the bottom of the coffee cup I know awaits me in the kitchen. 

I’m not a man. I will never be a father. But so badly, I wish that my husband were a father and that we’d be able to spend the day doting on him. Although not many of our friends have babies, this quote echoes in my heart on an abnormally regular beat: 


That is all I want. To call him a father. To hear a little voice call him daddy, dad, or dada. To pick out heinous ties and silly socks, and cards that talk about how great of a man he is, and how wondrous of a father he has been for our child. Br at this point in our lives, so I can’t shed tears over what isn’t. But, I do. 

My period started Friday. Two days earlier than it was scheduled. Ever since we’ve started these treatments, my cycle has been off. What are the odds that it used to be like clockwork and now it’s about as reliable as a New England snowstorm. Which basically means, it’s completely unpredictable. After texting my doctor throughout the day Friday, and hearing back today, tomorrow round three begins. We start with the baseline ultrasound tomorrow at 7:30am, and the commencement of Clomid on Tuesday morning. More ultrasounds this month. More bloodwork. More…more…more of everything because last month was SO off. 


I’m not prepared. I’m tired. I do not want to go through another month of aggravation, annoyance, and frustration. Despite my knowledge of essentially what is in our path, failure, there I’ll be tomorrow for a day 4 ultrasound. Again, for another month, my body is turned over to science. 

Originally when we started this nightmare, I’m done calling it a roller coaster, it isn’t. A roller coaster is exhilarating, after 45 to 60 seconds of insanity it ends. We are well, well beyond, 45 to 60 seconds of time. We are months in but it feels like years. Anyway back to this nightmare… We decided we would do three rounds of hormone treatments and IUIs. We are in our third month of treatment and we’ve only had one IUI, because the second cycle as I may remind you “failed.” Last night while eating icecream, I broached the topic, “what do we do after this? Should we go right to IVF? Do we do another round of drugs and hope to get to another IUI?”  To be quite frank, I do not know where to go after this. I need a mental break, but how does one break from something that is ALWAYS on their mind? My DH with nothing but patience and reassurance said, “we will do as many rounds of this as you want.”

Here’s what I want. A baby. None of this bullshit. No doctors. No bills. Not 3-4 ultrasounds on a weekly basis. But in order to “maybe” have a baby, we have to go through endless and heaping amounts of bullshit. I plaster that dumb vacant smile on my face because really, what the fuck else am I to do? 

Humph. 

That’s not a word. It’s the noise I make in my head after a long day, a frustrating day, or on one of those days where I just don’t want to say much of anything…or when I’m full of ramblings. 

Lucky you, today is one of those days. 

I will ramble because yesterday was hard. Mentally, I would say that it was  almost crushing. There was a baby shower yesterday that I didn’t go to, but was firmly cemented in my mind, and it was Children’s Day. Thank you, Facebook for that fun fact, it’s one that I absolutely could have lived with out. There are some days where things go unbelievably well, and I have a wonderful day, like Saturday; which is followed by a day where I wish I could just scream all day long. Pause for a good sob session, and then start screaming again. 


YES…we want to have a baby.
YES…we are trying to have a baby.

YES…we want a family, preferably of 4, but 3 is proving to be challenging enough. 
Given that we’ve literally done nothing this month, because of incorrect timing, I feel like a sitting duck. We just wait, and wait, and wait for my period to come and then the roller coaster starts again. I never would have anticipated feeling helpless even when there’s nothing I am supposed to be doing. Truly, where’s the rationale there? 
Yes, I loved my spontaneous day away Saturday with my mom, and I know that when we have a child, I won’t always be able to pick up and take off for the day. I do know, that when we have a child, I will go out of my way to plan those days with my mom so that we can bring the baby/child along with us. Most people will think that I’m crazy, but I want my child to spend time with us, seeing what we love to do, and being part of those special days. 

There is no certainty in any of this. There don’t seem to be any answers. There is not a definitive amount of time that we will have to endure the medical treatments.

 It’s all a big fat “what if” followed by “When?” 


All I want is certainty. I want an absolute. I do not ever want to sit down and participate in that conversation in the above image. I want a yes or no answer to my question, “will I have a child?” Because if the answer is no, I’d rather figure out a way to start wrapping my head around that now, and not prolonging the inevitable crushing disappointment. Should the answer be a definitive yes, I will keep fastening that safety belt across my lap, and pulling the overhead harness down to ride that roller coaster.