Here we go, again: Infertility Round 2
Having already gone through this once before, there are some ways I’d like to be intentionally different this time around.
The first is recording my journey. I found it incredibly lonely the first time around, feeling like I couldn’t find someone with the same or a similar set of circumstances I was facing. If writing this down makes anyone feel more at ease, then I think it is worth it. I also want to remember this journey — the first time around, I felt like I wanted to forget it.
A second way I would like to be different is that I would like to be more of an advocate this time around. The first time I didn’t have the strength to. I think recording my journey will help in my advocacy efforts during and after the next step is completed.
In a future post I will write about how it all began and how I got to to my beautiful, now 18-month-old, son. I don’t regret a single moment of effort, pain and agony when I look at him. His life provides me hope in so many ways, but one of them is that I can make the impossible possible for a second time around.
For today, I’d like to write about Infertility Round 2: Appointment #1. After a devastating cycle ending the day before my birthday (Dec 30, 2020), I realized I was ready to move on. We had been trying for a year by then, and for the last 6 months I was also on medication to help with ovulation (Letrazole 5mg days 3–7). All the signs were there, I was with close family only (#COVID) and it was Christmas. I had a test in my bag and would’ve found out on my 31st birthday that I was pregnant. I read a horoscope that specifically mentioned conceiving. It was all too perfect, and on December 30 it all came crashing down.
On the dreaded return-to-work Monday in January I gave the fertility doctor’s office a call to start another cycle of IUI (intrauterine insemination) — the wonderful procedure that got me pregnant three years ago. I learned that I was already too late for that cycle since you have to call on Day 1 and go for your first appointment Day 3. But at least there was light at the end of the tunnel.
Day 1 came around again on January 29. I called and scheduled my appointment for Day 3. I was thankful Day 3 would fall on a Sunday — one less day to worry about work, child care and fitting an appointment in that is an hour drive away.
I arrived for my appointment a little discombobulated because of the different COVID practices. The building I knew so well was the same but the entrance, route to the clinic, and the waiting room looked so different. I felt a rush of nostalgia, excitement and anxiety. Although there were far fewer women in the waiting area with me, I recognized the same desperate faces I had seen before.
I was called in to the room where they take samples of blood. The nurse (Amy, I believe) was very kind and talkative. I then was told that the transvaginal ultrasound would be next and that I had to remove any products that would be a barrier. Something to remember for next time (but I hope so badly there isn’t a next time). I was called to the ultrasound room and waited on the table, inverted. When the second nurse arrived and began the exam I remembered how uncomfortable this part was. And then I remembered how challenging these examinations were for the person examining me, due to my flawed anatomy and unwelcome fibroids. It became clear she couldn’t find what she was looking for.
“You’re going to have to come back tomorrow when the tech is in” (internal monolouge: I will do whatever it takes to make this work, but I just drove an hour to be here today, my son is sick and might not be able to go to daycare tomorrow, plus I have to work). “Does that work for you?”
Me: “I can make that work but I drive an hour…” Nurse: “Yes, that’s too bad. But I can’t find your ovaries and our ultrasound tech definitely will be able to. So Monday works? What time?” Me: “8:30am please”.
I walked out, frustrated. I think this had happened to me before but I had forgotten. How was I going to make this work? I started driving, my mind racing, going down a wormhole of anger and frustration with the situation. It isn’t fair.
After two tense conversations with my mom (asking if they could step in for childcare if needed) and my husband (can you go to work late?) I laid in my bed as my baby napped and thought hard. I read the daycare COVID protocols. I considered bringing him to that office. I decided to call back to see how crucial this next appointment was. Because of my past experience, I know they are just looking at my ovaries and recording the growth of follicles — on day 4 this would likely be minimal. Would it really affect the entire cycle if the measurement of “0” wasn’t recorded? When I called, described my situation, the same nurse who told me to come in said “Oh, don’t stress about it! Just come in for your regular next bloodwork appointment (Day 7)”.
What a relief! But why wasn’t that same understanding and insight to my inner world present in the ultrasound room? With my lower garments removed, bleeding onto the table; vulnerable and frustrated. It would have saved me hours of frustration, a distracted and emotional drive home. Was it because she was frustrated, too?
I started my Letrazole after the Day 3 appointment and will finish it before my next appointment, Day 7. We will see where we are at then.