AI – no, not that kind
After our failed cycle and then canceled cycle, we buckled up and went again for another timed cycle. More poking and prodding, more medications, blood draws and ultrasounds. Unfortunately, after yet another attempt, we had another canceled cycle and another failed cycle. It was odd, early during the second week of my TWW for that latest attempt, I started having a lot of feelings that it wasn’t going to work. I’m not sure what it was, but in my gut, something was off. Sure enough, when I took my pregnancy test it was negative and my period started two days later.
So back to the doctor we went. What could we do next? What would be their recommendation? Intrauterine insemination (IUI) was what they wanted us to pursue next – which is most commonly known as artificial insemination.
The process is not romantic and very clinical, but at this point we had nothing to lose and everything to gain. With this, I still took Letrozole for a week and triggered with Ovidrel, but instead of timing intercourse, we bypassed that and went straight to the doctor’s office 36 hours after my shot. Of course, this can be early morning hours or even the weekend – several of our appointments happened early in the day or even on a Saturday or Sunday.
Once you arrive at the doctor’s office, they take your partner’s sperm sample, process it to separate out only the strongest and healthiest sperm, and then they use a catheter to insert the sperm directly into the uterus through your cervix.
Even after all of these years, I can remember the sterile room, bright lights and everyone trying to joke around as I lay there, legs in stirrups with 4 different people in the room all telling me to relax. Not even my husband was near me – just in a corner, out of the way – so the doctor and nurses could do what they needed. After about 10 minutes, with a metaphorical slap on my ass, they told me to go home and rest. I returned home and my husband went back to work.
During that TWW I remember feeling so anxious, like everything was on me to make this work. That my body was the problem – that I was broken. Oddly, I never thought getting pregnant once we got me ovulating would be the problem. I was always more worried about staying pregnant.
The toll this process was taking on my marriage was evident. At this point, six months in, we were hurting and in turn hurting each other. It doesn’t help when you’re spending every moment taking pills, shots, heading to appointment after appointment and then trying to put on a brave face when friends and family tell you they’re pregnant. When you’re so exhausted from all of the hormones coursing through your body and you feel like you’re losing control. Nothing was how it was supposed to be and I had nowhere to turn. So, mistakingly, I said nothing, didn’t get help, and internalized everything.
Still, I tried to stay optimistic and marked the days off the calendar until I could take the pregnancy test. Spoiler alert, it was negative. I was numb. Weak. I felt utterly powerless.
Honestly,
Theresa