Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Well some people know at least those who read this blog that I have been trying to have a baby. I am forty-four (cue to cringe) I know it seems old to try unless you are a celebrity but try I must.
I started a couple months ago, tracking dates, getting lab work done, having a physical, working out, taking vitamins etc. Then I went to an infertility doctor (serious stuff, desperate waiting room) who did something called a clomid challenge test. My initial labs were good and my CCT labs were good and we are almost sure I ovulated just missed it by a day. To quote my very serious doctor "Good Response for an old chick".
This month I had two IUI's, that's when they put the sperm (all spun washed and tidy) into your uterus so that your chances improve. I did this after another round of clomid an LH surge, a couple scans and a trigger shot, the shot helps to make sure you ovulate in a predictable little window of time. This was not fun or comfortable but I was very sure it was going to work...why wouldn't it?
I have never had a difficult time getting pregnant, I have a healthy body, my lab tests were impressive for "my advanced maternal age" and I timed this cycle perfectly, All my I's dotted all my T's crossed.
In this new age of reproductive technology I am officially DPO 10 that means ten days past ovulation. My little fertilized egg should have found a nice cozy spot in my uterus by now (implanting happens between DPO 6 and 12) and Hcg should begin to enter my system (the pregnancy hormone that makes you barf and have boobs like Selma Hyak). Symptoms may appear this early but not all the time which is good because none have except the hunger but I am always a hungry girl, and I already own a version of Selma's boobs.
I did what most women who are in this two week holding pattern do and obsess. We start peeing on sticks before the sperm has even found it's way to the egg. I am no exception I have pee'd on a whole lotta sticks in the last two days but today I was sure I would get a BFP (Big Fat Positive) instead it was BFN (Big Fat Negative.
This could mean that the egg never fertilized and instead of a baby I will get the dreaded days of bleeding and binging. It could mean that the egg has not seated itself yet and I am not producing enough Hcg to be detected on a pregnancy test. It could be that my stubborn little egg is waiting until the last possible minute to enter its 38 week home.
I am Being emotional because of the hormones that occupy a woman this time of the month, the hormones injected, inserted and swallowed. The rational non-hormonal person might take this all in stride and say "well we will just have to wait and see won't we and if not this month next month" Oh no, the hormonal woman can only count days over and over, and worry every moment. She needs this, she must have this, and how can she possibly wait. It is sweet torture, it is almost like climbing a mountain. The summit is there and you can see it but after hours of hiking it doesn't feel much closer.
This was my big shot at being a mommy, I have three days to produce a little Hcg or I will have to go off the prometrium (a progesterone they give you to help you build a happy nest for your baby) my cycle will start all over again...a cycle I refuse to acknowledge.
There is no trying again, this is it. We can't adopt our combined age is too old. I have no interest in foster care, I could never give a child back, too hard. So it has to work.