The Last Hope (almost)

If you’ve been following my “journey” (I’m effing sick of this word) this post is for you. Yes, I blog about the journey and experiences, but that doesn’t mean I like talking about it all the time. In fact, I HATE talking about it. I blog because I think there’s a crap ton of stupid stuff about infertility on the internet and damn near all of it is discouraging and not at all informative about the real experience. When I blog about infertility it’s to bring awareness to the suck-age, encourage women who are currently struggling to feel understood, and give tidbits of what I’ve learned along the way. So, please, for the love of God, STOP asking me how things are going unless you’re my best friend in the whole world and she knows who she is. She gets free reign to ask.


So, to catch my readers up to speed…in January we decided to take a 90 day break from all things fertility. We got pregnant quickly after that, but then lost the baby weeks later. That sucked! As the 90 days came to a close and I began to get amped up for another new cycle, my friends and family asked “Why do you have to do fertility treatments if you got pregnant on your own?” and then a few followed with something infuriating like, “See, I told you once you just relaxed you’d get pregnant”. That response is infuriating because the pregnancy had ZERO to do with relaxing! I was the exact same person during those 90 days as I have been for over three years and only one pregnancy resulted, and, if you’ve been paying attention, that pregnancy did NOT result in a baby so…technically it still didn’t work.

My doctors have told me that my chances of a successful pregnancy without intervention from them are something like 0.05%. The sweet baby that I got to carry for 6 weeks earlier this year was my 0.05%, which means that I probably won’t have another one without intervention for another 3-5 years and I turned 32 on Sunday so…times a tickin’.

I started slowly though because several of my obstacles have been repaired, making it easier to conceive with minimal interventior, or so I thought. I figured I could just try the femara pills to assist ovulation since my endometriosis is gone and my septum was repaired. My body doesn’t grow mature follicles or ovulate regularly so that seemed like the most logical next step. Well, two more months of femara with no positive results only caused more stress on my marriage (femara are my “crazy bitch” pills) and more disappointment. Ugh!

So, towards the end of May I decided “this is it”. I’m going all in! I’m going to do the injectables (the big guns), the trigger shot to release the follicles on time, timed intercourse, and two IUIs (turkey baster). Holy crap! I had no idea what I was getting into financially or physically, or what the time commitment was. That was a total bitch of two weeks! This ain’t for the weak!

Day 1 of my cycle, I call in to schedule my day 3 sonogram

Day 3: base line sonogram ($205) to rule out cysts and get the meds


Day 5-11 I gave myself a shot in the stomach of 150mg or 75mg every night. EVERY morning I had to get my labs drawn at a clinic 25 minutes away by 7:00am, and EVERY afernoon I had to get a sonogram to check my follicle growth ($200 a pop for 5 days).

Then, on Saturday they told me I had 2-3 “mature follicles” meaning those had a chance of pregnancy, but I had a few more that could result in pregnancy if they continued to grow prior to ovulating. Then (at 9am on a Saturday) we started talking about “selective reduction”. This is when you find yourself like the Octomom, with a litter of children in your belly that pose a HUGE risk to you and your babies. Selective reduction is when the doctors tell you which babies will likely be born with health issues and you opt to abort them. Let’s just say I hit my knees in prayer and cried like a damn baby hoping this was never a decision I’d have to make.

Then, more labs, more meds, all before RUSHING to the spa to relax. Anything odd about that sentence? I thought so, too. They sure don’t make this journey easy on us!


Sunday morning we went in for our first IUI at this clinic. I’ll spare you the details but it’s pretty awkward to be walked in to the “collection room” (aka a sterile bathroom with dirty magazines) so your husband can “collect” prior to the procedure. We were laughing hysterically because that’s us, but I can imagine how for some couples how incredibly uncomfortable this part of the procedure is. Then, three hours later it’s pushed into my uterus via a catheter, past the cervix and the prayers begin. ($400 a pop…$800-1000 total)

We repeat this again the next day. It’s awkward! They carry your husband’s “sample” in a catheter/syringe with both your names on it and ask you to “identify” the sample. “Um, yup, that looks familiar”. What the hell are you supposed to say?!

Baby's first photo

I used to have trouble knowing this was how my baby(ies) was conceived, but now I know this is what needs to happen and that ultimately the decision allowing a life to result is up to God.

I’m meant to be a mom. I’m meant to have a family, and I’ll stop at nothing to meet my baby; however, I can’t financially do this cycle again until probably October. We have exhausted nearly ALL of our resources. The more times we have to do this, the harder it is. It’s a strain on ALL areas of our lives.

Please, please, please, don’t ask me about my “progress” or if we’ve heard anything yet. Just hit your knees in prayer and allow me to announce the “results” when I’m ready.

Stay gold Ponyboy, 

That Girl

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *