IUI no. 4. bringing on the (somewhat) big guns.

Moving right along, here we go. A post from late March soon after failed IUI no. 3.


We met with our RE for the first time in a year. We were at the clinic for an hour and a half. I had butterflies about this visit. It was the visit that was going to chart our course.

The two or so weeks leading up to our RE appointment were a trial in patience, anxiety, tension and nerves. The unknown for two people who like a firm grasp on their life isn’t easy. This process is stretching us. To trust someone else to get us a baby, to trust that we will someday have a baby, to let go of the notion that we get to control this aspect of our lives, to let go of the entitlement that we deserve to have it as easy as 85% of the population have it when conceiving a small human.

People, being stretched and growing isn’t fun. I’ve spent the past six or so weeks letting myself be filled with anxiety, bitterness, frustration and anger… all very common and normal feelings for someone going through infertility. The thing is though, that’s not me. It’s not how I want to live my life, or handle infertility. That said, I think I needed to go through that phase, I think it’s part of the process. Now that I’ve gone through it I am hoping to move on and stay above the fray of the bitterness and frustration that comes with the territory.

Did you know studies have shown that going through infertility is akin to someone going through a terminal illness?

Let that sink in.

I’ll wait.

Let it sink.

It’s heavy. It’s hard. It just plain sucks a big one. But it’s what I’ve been handed to deal with in my life.

There is light though. We met with our RE who took his time with us, not once did I feel rushed through the appointment that lasted an hour and a half. He took the time to talk to us about all the options, about IVF and about my disease of endometriosis. The most important thing he did for me (and in turn for Edder) was reminding me what endo actually does to the female body. It’s not just physical pain, it also lowers your ovarian production, it causes issues in your tubes… it causes infertility.

Even though I knew all these things, I didn’t KNOW them. I needed my RE to look me in the face and remind me. To tell me it’s not my fault, to tell me I’m not old, to tell me our case isn’t hopeless. In fact the one thing during our appointment that sank in most? That I’m hanging on to? My Dr. is by no means putting me into the ‘catastrophic-it-will-be-nearly-impossible’ category of patients that he sees. In fact, he told us my case is fairly common and my age is actually YOUNG for this clinic.

This entire past year I’ve had a niggle in the back of my mind that it’s my eggs that aren’t doing the trick. A few had gotten through but they weren’t quite beefy or strong enough. My niggle was finally confirmed by my RE this week when he told me about my low AMH levels, the levels showing my lower than normal ovarian reserve.

The plan now is to try what’s called an ‘injectables’ IUI cycle. We will be letting the hormones fly. I am moving on to a protocol of Femara, GonalF, HCG shot and Progesterone. The first two are used to trick my mind and body into producing more hormones to amp up egg production, the HCG is to make my body ovulate said eggs and the progesterone is to encourage an embryo to stick.

The (somewhat) big guns, they’ve come out.

For the first time in six weeks the anxiety has washed away, the bitterness has waned and I feel just… peaceful. A gigantic weight has been lifted. I’m going to enjoy that while I can because one thing I know is that this new hormone protocol is going to give my emotions a run for their money. Watch out people, faux-preggo-rex will be on the prowl, lookin’ for shiz to destroy and cars to overturn!


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