WARNING: This blog may contain curse words, typos, and heavy emotions not suitable for the faint of heart.
I have never, not once, left the fertility clinic without being completely discouraged. Oh sure, there’s always silver lining if you look for it, but after three years, and a SERIES of disappointments, I’ve lost my inner Polyanna. In fact, fuck you, Polyanna.
It’s my southern upbringing and natural tendency towards being optimistic that continues to cause me to fall flat on my face EVERY time. If I could just stay “Debbie Downer” then it wouldn’t hurt so bad when things go wrong.
Every time I go to the doctor they have to verbally review my chart with me, “History of ovarian cysts, irregular ovulatory patterns, history of uterine septum, history of stage 1 endometriosis, 3 cycles clomid x1, no result, 3 cycles clomid x3, no result, 3 cycles femara, no result, 3 cycles femara with injectables, no result, two failed IUIs with injectables, one chemical pregnancy resulting in loss…”
Well, what a fun trip down memory lane! Next time, I’ll pack a picnic!
Then, yesterday my nurse called me to confirm my day 3 sonogram and I told her I’d really like to do the injectables this month with two IUIs (increasing my chances of pregnancy up to 50%), but I told her I could only do the injectables if there were any donated ones that I could have since they cost $1300-1500 each cycle. There were! She found some! There finally was a pack of meds and she set them aside for me.
“This is it!”, I told myself. I was pumped. I went in to the office today ready to walk out with my free meds and start a new cycle and finally have a real shot at meeting my baby. But, to quote The Little Rascals movie, “Then the clouds opened up and God said, ‘I hate you Alfalfa!'”
The right side of my ovaries looked great, but, for the first time in over a year, my left side showed two cysts. So…it’s not safe to do the injectables. Not only do I not get to use the meds, but I get the pleasure of passing on the donation to someone else. Call me selfish, but it’s my fucking turn! I know I should try to feel great about somebody else getting these meds, but I just can’t see it that way yet. Enough already, it’s my turn.
Why not me? Why can’t something in this area of my life just work out? What’s the point of continuous let downs and disappointments?
When I thought my HSG was all clear I woke up to find I had endometriosis.
When I thought my septum was mild I woke up to find out it was super severe and they had to put in a uterine balloon and I was literally in labor for two weeks trying to “deliver” it. Freaky, right?
When I think I’m the lucky one who gets to go home with $1300 worth of donated meds, I find out I have cysts and aren’t eligible.
So, I’ll do femara (lame ass pills) this month with only one IUI which gives me a 15% chance of a successful pregnancy aka I have a shot in hell and I get to waste another month. I’ll get bloated, hungry, exhausted and cranky with no positive end result.
Or, maybe after a few days of being negative my southern self will pull through, I’ll channel my inner Polyanna and find some way to be positive again. Ugh, happy people live longer anyway, right? : )