After a month of birth control, I headed back to the RE’s office yesterday. I wasn’t honestly sure what to anticipate. I hoped the cysts on my ovary had shrunk enough to start a new cycle, but I was pretty nervous. The anxious part of my brain went into overdrive then, wondering if perhaps it was possible the cysts would be worse, which quickly spiraled into the whole what-if-I-never-get-pregnant spiel and me telling my brain to shut up already. Hour-long drives to the RE over a boring stretch of highway are really not the most awesome help for anxiety.
Once I got to the RE’s office, stripped down, and started my ultrasound, I’m happy to say the tech found that the big cysts were gone. Not just shrunk down, but actually gone. My ovaries, of course, still look polycystic, but it was a relief not to see an enormous pair of blobs where my left ovary is supposed to be.
Arthur and I discussed it with each other and then Dr. D, and we think we’ll probably try IUI this cycle. Part of me still doesn’t know how I feel about this for a couple of reasons. For starters, it’s more money, and since Arthur has no issues, it only increases our chance by about 5%. It’s also a major life-complicating factor in terms of getting to the clinic on very short notice.
Then there’s the other reason I’m a bit gun-shy about IUI. IUI means giving up yet another piece of normalcy. I mean, timed intercourse and injections aren’t exactly what normal, fertile people experience when trying for a pregnancy, but at least that way I felt like a conception would take place in my own home in private. I had given up hope of having one of those ‘perfect’ conceptions – you know the type: candles, romantic dinner, pretty lingerie, on an exotic vacation, etc. I’d come to terms with that.
I am not so sure that I have yet quite come to terms with the idea of being inseminated through a uterine catheter in the stirrups at the doctor’s office. I have absolutely no moral qualms or issues with it; it’s not that at all. Infertility has caused me to lose so many of those moments fertile people take for granted. It’s not enough that I’ve had to give myself shots, get poked and prodded constantly by lots of people, spend lots of money, and wait over a year so far for a pregnancy. Now I don’t even get to get pregnant in a manner at least resembling the way the majority of people get pregnant? Like, at least in my own home?
I know, slightly whiny and irrational on my part, but it’s something I want to make sure I have dealt with in my head. I don’t want a panic attack on the table. My HSG taught me that paying attention to (instead of dismissing) emotions is important. There’s also the part of me that keeps reminding myself that we knew this was a probability once we started the injections, and if IVF enters the picture, well, that’s how it’s going to be. We want a child, and if IUI or IVF is what it takes, we’ll find a way and I’ll have to let go. It’s just not as easy as I wished it was and hoped it would be.
I asked the nurse at the RE’s office what would happen if I prepaid the cycle as an IUI cycle and then because of work or anything else decided not to or couldn’t do the cycle as an IUI what would happen. Turns out we’d just convert back to a timed intercourse cycle and then the RE’s office would refund the money for the IUI part. That reassurance made me feel much better about going ahead and anticipating an IUI cycle. It gives me an out if I decide I need one.
So I start injections for this new cycle tomorrow evening, and I’m really hoping this time for a success!
*Stands for: Medicated Attempt To Get Knocked Up #5, 2nd Injection Cycle