This month with fertility, we decided to take things a step further. This was our fourth month of fertility treatments and after taking 1 month off when we went on our honeymoon, it felt fitting to take the next step. This month we did our first IUI, or intrauterine insemination, along with an increased dose in letrozole. The process is pretty simple. I did 5 days of letrozole, I went in for my monitoring ultrasound on December 3rd. December 5th was HCG trigger day and then December 7th was IUI day. Cory provides a semen sample, and they injected it through a catheter placed in my cervix. I stayed laying down for 15 minutes and then I went about my day as usual at work. The whole process was really pretty easy. She had trouble visualizing my cervix initially, so the speculum part was a little painful, but compared to the sono HSG, that was nothing!
After 13 days of progesterone suppositories, I was instructed to take a pregnancy test. However, I decided to break the rules a little bit and test on Saturday instead of Monday. Cory was home and basically begging me to “just test already.” So, against my better judgement I gave into temptation and took a pregnancy test. I swear those little things are rigged to turn negative ten times faster for me. I shrugged my shoulders and chucked the test into the metal garbage can. It made an obnoxious “clink” sound that startled me. I don’t know if that’s what triggered me, but I immediately sunk down onto the edge of the tub and started sobbing into my hands. The kind of sobbing where you’re not just crying tears from your eyes, but you feel every ounce of sadness throughout your entire body. Cory must have heard the “clink” because he came into the bathroom shortly after.
“I’m so mad at you,” I told him between sobs. I don’t know why I said that in that moment. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t either of our faults. I was just sad and angry and wanted to live in my naive stupor a little longer. I wanted to hang on to that possibility, that hope of being pregnant… until Monday at least. He pulled the pregnancy test out of the garbage and set it down on the toilet lid. “Well, maybe we’ll see that second line on Monday.” He’s always had so much more optimism than I have throughout this journey.
I had so much hope this month. I really thought we were going to get our Christmas miracle. Truthfully, I debated and thought long and hard about even doing fertility this month because I was so afraid of the possible disappointment the week of Christmas. It makes it so much harder knowing yet another holiday has gone by with absolutely no end to this infertility in sight. The distraction of wrapping presents, making gingerbread houses, and the upcoming family events are helpful, but at the same time pretending like everything is alright when I’m hurting so bad inside is exhausting.
And as I’m writing this, I hear my little Alea playing with Cory in the other room. She’s giggling, Cory’s pretending to be a monster, and just by listening I know they’re both having way too much fun. That’s the weird thing about secondary infertility. I’m already a mom. I conceived Alea with ease and although I wasn’t at the time, I’m so very grateful for that now. No doctors, no hormones, no heart-wrenching sadness. She just happened. I’m already a mom, yet there’s still room in my heart to love another child. I want to make Alea a big sister. She would be the perfect big sister.
That’s what keeps me going. If I had a nickel for every time I’ve thought about throwing the towel in and giving up, I’d be able to afford all of these fertility treatments with ease. I know I can’t give up on this. Giving up would be giving up on the completion of our family and giving up on blessing Alea with a little brother or sister. I can’t let that happen.
I can say one thing for certain though… not seeing those two pink lines this month, the week of Christmas, makes me so very thankful that Alea didn’t ask for a baby brother or a baby sister for Christmas like she did last year. I was really hoping by this Christmas we’d be able to give her that gift.
Note to my Readers: I hope you don’t mind me sharing these raw, tough, rough moments of my life. I write these posts because it helps me to get all of my thoughts down on this virtual paper and because I truly hope that I can help at least one other person who may be in the same situation as me. It’s not an easy journey, but I truly hope you don’t mind me sharing some of the rain clouds in my usual “sunny” life.