Cruel Tricks

To recap, waiting for a possible Christmas miracle (aka: to find out if our IUI had worked) was more than sheer torture. Anyone who is TTC, and especially those who are struggling through infertility, know the agony that exists during the time after ovulation and before either getting a positive pregnancy test or getting your period... this time is also known as the "2 week wait" (2WW). Well, long story short, exactly 2 weeks after our first IUI (which was done on Christmas Eve), I went in that morning for my Beta Blood Pregnancy Test. From there, of course it was another waiting game throughout the day while anticipating the call from the office to find out if the test was positive (or negative for that matter). Of course after starring at my phone all day, the moment I step away, I miss it. Onto to listening to the voicemail it is... "Hello Tiffanie... we are calling in regards to the results of your pregnancy test from earlier this morning. The office closes in about 15min. so if you could please give us a call back right away."... Uhhh, half way through the message I thought, "ok, this is weird, please just get to the point - it's either positive or negative, right? How hard can it be to just give me a straight answer?"... Well, as you think I would have learned by now, apparently life's not always black and white, nor are pregnancy tests - as I had to learn the hard way.

The rest of the message went on to explain that when HCG levels are tested during a pregnancy test, anything over 25 is a confirmed positive and anything below a 5 is a confirmed negative. So for me, of course, of course I had to find my way into the freakin' gray area. My HCG level was at 8.5 and my progesterone was low, so they wanted me to double up on the progesterone suppositories that day and then come back for another blood test in the morning to, "...see if they can figure out what's going on." Really?! Are you kidding me?!? Come on, how hard does this have to be on us? It's like a cruel trick being played. Having a confirmed negative would have been hard enough, but to have this tiny, minuscule glimmer of hope (even though I knew in my heart that it wasn't going to be positive) was simply an inhuman, heart-wrenching joke that wasn't humorous. God, why are you doing this to us??? We're barely surviving this trial as it is, why does it have to be taken to this level? So, for the next 24hrs, my husband and I had to live in yet another, even more devastatingly difficult state of "not knowing."

Long story short, the test came back negative the next morning. They think it was just trace levels of the HGC left in my system from the trigger shot. So again, it all seemed to be just a cruel joke designed to make this whole fiasco of a journey even more difficult... Well, it's not funny... and I'm not laughing...

A "Romantic" Baby-Dance

So thus far, I've tried to spare some of the more potentially personal details of this whole circus act, but in this post I tread lightly no more. Therefore, if you're not interested in some of the more personal details of our "adventure" (yea, that's an interesting word for it), then I suggest you pass on this one. For everyone else, let's embark on the oh-so-romantic baby dance of an IUI...

Here we go...

After the surgery and recovery period, the next step of our treatment plan was to do 2-3 medicated cycles on Clomid (a medication that helps stimulate ovulation) paired with an IUI (intrauterine insemination). Here's where the real fun began. An IUI is basically a procedure where sperm is taken from the male, and "processed" through a washing technique to basically remove everything but the sperm itself... then injected through a long catheter directly into the woman's uterus. The point is to time it all up perfectly and get the sperm stationed in place at the moment ovulation occurs. Often, an IUI is used when male factor's are a variable contributing to infertility, such as when sperm count is low, they don't live long, and/or have difficulty swimming. For us however, none of these factors were true. In fact, my husband's guys are rock-stars with no trouble at all (so I'm sure they're beyond frustrated with my apparently broken eggs at this point - seriously, sorry guys). Anyways, all in all it's quite the process. Of course, no where near as invasive as IVF, but still medically involved.

The IUI process starts with an internal ultrasound (yup, imaging wand up the whoohaa) to make sure there are no cysts or other concerns on the ovaries, and once you get the ok you can start on the Clomid (for me, it was 50mg once a day for Days 5-9 of the cycle). Then, starting on Day 11 I had to begin using an OPK (ovulation predictor kit) to test for the LH surge (a hormone that typically surges about 24 hrs. before ovulation). Within a day or two, I was right back into the office for blood work and another internal ultrasound to monitor the size and growth of the follicles (aka: small little sacs in which the eggs grow in). My doctor is very particular in closely monitoring the growth and number of follicles throughout the process (because he obviously doesn't want to be responsible for creating the next octo-mom - I'm thankful for this) and because if the follicles aren't responding well to the Clomid, the cycle will be a bust and the IUI basically pointless.

At this point, everything looked good. I had two follicles of decent size and all my other hormone levels were good according to the blood work. So it was time for the HCG trigger shot (given to trigger ovulation within the next 24-36 hrs.). For the trigger shot, I had two choices: in my stomach or butt... ohhh, this is a fun choice. Let's be conservative and not have to drop my pants and bend over (really though, like I had any modesty left at this point after all the poking and prodding), but I decided to go with the stomach option. Well, piss-poor choice on my part. For the next 3 days, anytime anything remotely touched my injection sight, it didn't feel good. Seat belt strap in the car, waistband of my pants, bending over and putting even the slightest pressure on my abdomen all caused pain. But, suck it up Tiff, you want a baby, right? I'm sure many women prefer the injection in the stomach, but note to self: If there's a next time, let's try the tail-feather.

The next day was the day, on Christmas Eve might I add (well this is a fun way to start the holiday season).

Ok, so I know I've said this before, but honestly this time it's true - here's where the real fun began. Step 1: collect the sample from my husband. Although this wasn't our first rodeo of this (since he had to initially have an analysis done), the stakes seemed much higher this time around. We chose the "at home collection" option - seemed a bit more personal than a sterile doctor's office, but still an awkward situation all around. Then frantically rushed over to the doctor's office since the sample had to be delivered within an hour (and the office was about 45min away), collection cup in my husband's waist band to keep his guys at body temperature. Once there, it took about 45min.-1hr. for them to process his sample and then they called us back for the procedure (soooo grateful that my husband was able to be there with me through the entire thing). Step 2: After some initial minor difficulties with the catheter, the procedure was done and all in all took literally 2-3min. I then had to lay there for about 10min. before going home. Once the nurse stepped out of the room, my husband came over, grabbed my hand, and we looked at each other and said, "let's make a baby" (yes, this is exactly how I imagined it being the day we conceived our little bun). Step 3: From there I was ordered to start progesterone inserts once a day for the next 2 weeks (yes, the dreaded 2WW - 2 week wait), and let me tell you the fun these things were... actually, I won't. I'll spare you the graphic details, but say that thankfully I didn't have the adverse reactions to progesterone itself that some women have, but still lived in a state of constant uncomfortable-ness for the next two weeks. Again, anything for a baby, right?

Then it was living through the torturous waiting game to find out whether or not we had successfully conceived a Christmas miracle... Come on little eggs, please hatch this time around...

Making Friends with Your Problems

"Make friends with your problems..." what an interesting concept, but one that's definitely worth pondering. Trust me - it's worth it. As hard as it is at times to face our problems and continue to move forward, weathering to get through the storm can have an unexpectedly positive purpose. Remembering that through all things, God is still in control and continuing to have that strong trust in Him can be difficult, but it's an important reminder. The following comes from a daily devotional (Jesus Calling) that my amazing mother-in-law shared with me from this weekend, and it's a uniquely fitting reminder from God of His plan and purpose in everything...

"MAKE FRIENDS WITH THE PROBLEMS IN YOUR LIFE. Though many things feel random and wrong, remember that I am sovereign over everything. I can fit everything into a pattern for good, but only to the extent that you trust Me. Every problem can teach you something, transforming you little by little into the masterpiece that I created you to be. The very same problem can become a stumbling block over which you fall if you react with distrust and defiance. The choice is up to you, and you will have to choose many times each day whether to trust Me or defy Me.

The best way to befriend your problems is to thank Me for them. This simple act opens your mind to the possibility of benefits flowing from your difficulties. You can even give persistent problems nicknames, helping you to approach them with familiarity rather than with dread. The next step is to introduce them to Me, enabling Me to embrace them in My loving Presence. I will not necessarily remove your problems, but My wisdom is sufficient to bring good out of every one of them."

~ Romans 8:28; 1 Corinthians 1:23-24

Everyday I'm constantly faced with two choices: I can remind myself that even through these trialing times of infertility, God has a plan and purpose in all of it, or I can allow my problems to consume me. I often try to consciously choose the first; however, like anyone, I have my weak moments (and rough days) when the latter becomes true. Regardless, as long as I can continue to hold on to the faith that God's working through this difficulty (in some way, shape, or form), I can continue to rely on the strength He provides me to get through all of this... and keep looking forward.

Suffering in Silence

One of the main reasons that finally drove me to actually start blogging about this journey was to break the stigmatizing silence that often surrounds infertility. For many reasons, it seems to be a topic that isn't often talked about openly, and something that I personally struggled with myself for a very long time. When we first started our journey in "trying to conceive" (TTC), I was adamant in telling my husband that I didn't want to tell anyone that we were actually "trying." Initially, my thought (and hope) was that I wanted it to be this huge, exciting surprise, especially for our family and close friends, when we could finally announce that we were pregnant. In my own weird, illogical head, I wanted people's response when they found out we were pregnant to be, "Oh my gosh, I had no idea you guys were even trying!" Why this seemed so appealing to me at the time, will never make sense to anyone... really, not even me. Then once our exciting journey started to turn into the reality of facing infertility, my insistence on remaining silent grew even greater. I didn't want people to know. I didn't want people's pity. I didn't want to be "that couple" that couldn't get pregnant and that everyone felt bad for. This whole mess was hard enough, the last thing I wanted was to be viewed as the girl who couldn't have a baby. I didn't want people looking at us and thinking, "Man, I feel so bad for them. I can't imagine what they're going through." Why that was such a bad thing to me, again, no rational explanation. Then one day my husband finally said to me, "Who cares if people know and if they feel bad for us? If they genuinely care and sympathize with what we're going through, why is that such a bad thing??" I pondered this thought for awhile and finally came to the conclusion that he was right, there was no real rational reason why it was a bad thing... it wasn't a bad thing.  In fact, if people who love us want to encourage us, show support and love, and offer prayers, that actually wasn't a bad thing at all... it was a GOOD thing. So slowly, but surely I began to break the silence... and this was one of the best decisions I made.

Looking Back and Trying to Find the Why

Another blow of devastatingly negative news came yesterday afternoon (another failed IUI, but more on that at another time), again causing me to reflect back on the journey of where my husband and I started... and the determination of where to go next. Let me back up for a moment though. Our journey of "trying to conceive" (TTC) started almost 2 years ago.  To this day, I still distinctly remember the rush of excitement when we finally both agreed to start "trying." The rush of emotion that comes from the unknown, from the "wow, we're really doing this," and from the exciting thought of what could soon be still lingers in the back of my mind. However, all of those feelings slowly, but surely started to turn into what I often described as my worst nightmare. At first, as the reality slowly started to set in that we were beginning to approach the 6 month, 7 month, 8 and 9 month mark of still not being pregnant, I still refused to accept the reality that we were potentially becoming "that couple" who couldn't get pregnant. I refused to accept the fact that we may be on the brink of facing the dreaded-word: i-n-f-e-r-t-i-l-i-t-y. I kept my hope and held onto my strong faith that "when the time was right, it would happen." Well, low and behold, almost 2 years later that time still hasn't come. In the moment when we stood face to face with our arrival upon the finite 1-year mark of unsuccessfully TTC, it became official - we were facing what the medical profession diagnoses as "infertility." The one and only positive thing about that (and I use the term "positive" very lightly) is that it opened the door to being able to see a fertility specialist. However, although we had reached this point, I still held on tight to my denial and bucked hard against even making an appointment. Truly, I just didn't want to be "that couple". Reluctantly, I did make an appointment though...

Fast forward two or so months worth of intrusive (and I mean INTRUSIVE), uncomfortable, diagnostic testing to try and determine the cause of our infertility. Throughout the diagnostic process, I couldn't seem to shake the statistics from the back of my mind: approximately 40% of the time the medical cause lies within the woman; 40% of the time within the man; and 20% of the time is unexplained. WHAT?! Unexplained?? Are you serious?? How does anything in our day and age of medical advancements, diagnostic testing, and high-tech. medical exploration even remain "unexplained" regarding a diagnosis? Anyways, obviously I had convinced myself that we would no doubt fall into this "unexplained" category, which would only further my own neurosis in this whole mess. So when test after test (for both me and my husband) kept coming back as "normal" or even "above average," I was torn between this awkward emotional pull of being relieved and disappointed. On one hand, nobody roots for wanting to find something wrong with themselves, but on the other we were looking for some reason, some "explanation" for why we weren't getting pregnant. There had to be a reason, right? This whole crisis in and of itself was hard enough to accept and at this point my only solace was at least being able to have a medically-based reason as to why - is that too much to ask?