First things first: had my Day 3 appointment this morning — I only had to sacrifice one vial of blood to the fertility gods, so that was a pleasant change. Also, my u/s showed no cysts. Nurse SAS will call me this afternoon after they check my hormone levels to confirm the start of clomid cycle #3, but she’s not foreseeing any problems. Dr. Local sat in on my scan (he was actually scribing while Nurse SAS ran the wand). Some of y’all know Dr. L, but for the rest of you, he is very calm, very soft-spoken, and I appreciate that. He assured me that he thinks I should have no problems getting pg, and although I’m not sure I believe him, it does make me feel better to at least hear him say that. Manly’s SA results came back normal, as did my bloodwork, so no problems there. I thought about asking for a copy of the numbers, but you know what? I honestly don’t care what the numbers are. I’ve had enough stress about this crap already, and I’m ready to let the RE worry about the numbers. Nurse SAS said that if we had 3-4 more unsuccessful cycles, we would sit down and do a detailed revisit, but until then, I’m not going to think about it. “Normal” is good enough for me.
Last night I went to a Southern Living home party with a (pg) friend of mine. J is a fellow IF, now sitting on the other side. They took a little over a year to get pg, and did so following her HSG. Anyway, after the party (think a tupperware party but with stuff out of Southern Living instead), we were sitting around snacking and checking out the catalog. Considering that the party was at her mom’s house, and she’s pg with the first grandchild, guess what conversation turned to? You guessed it — her pg, how excited everyone was, whether she was going to stay home, all the other womens’ experiences, the things that made me want to cry. I was literally keeping my head down trying to not listen. I know J noticed, because at one point she just reached over and squeezed my hand; she knows how hard this is for me.
But then, J mentioned that it had taken them a while to get pg. And you know what? The conversation turned to how hard it had been for a lot of the women there to get pg! Out of the six of us sitting there, it turns out that four of us had had problems of one kind or another. J had long, irregular cycles (and possibly a tube blockage since she got pg right after the HSG). I obviously have issues. J’s mom had secondary infertility; she tried for years to have a child after J and never could. And one of the other women, a grandmother, mentioned that the doctors thought she was pg, but she wasn’t, and then got pg anyway during that time so she spent almost a year being told she was pg before she actually gave birth.
I don’t understand why we women don’t talk about IF more often; we all know it happens. For example, I grew up knowing that my mom miscarried twins about six months after I was born. And then my younger brother wasn’t born for eight years. I never questioned that until I realized that we were having problems, and now I wonder what happened. How far along was she when she miscarried? Were they trying all that time? We’ve never discussed it, and I’m almost afraid to ask. And I don’t know why I’m afraid. All I can come up with is that infertility is just something that isn’t talked about. But at the same time, I’m talking about it! I’m telling the whole freaking internet what’s going on between my legs, and yet I can’t get up the courage to ask my own mother about her story.
Anyway. There’s my thoughts for the day.