I'm threading this path and it seems there is no end, and I'm alone, at times, alone in my longing, in my dream of becoming a mother. The IUI did not happen last month. It is tragic and comic that we missed the very strict laboratory hours due to day light savings time. It was a Sunday morning, March 11. The lab would be open only from 8 to 8:30. We woke up thinking it was 7am, but it was actually 8. We got to the lab at what we thought was 7:50am, but... Yes, the lab was closed. I called the doctor sobbing, begging her to find another laboratory, another way. She tried her best, but no luck. She told me to go home and try on our own to conceive. So knows? Maybe it would still happen. It didn't. I didn't cry when the pregnancy test revealed I was not pregnant, 2 weeks after our failed IUI attempt. I didn't cry, but it hurt. Silent punches on my face. Not pregnant again.
Today, a cycle later, things worked better. We didn't miss the lab hours. The specimen was collected, and I patiently await for the sperm wash to be completed while I type these words on my iPad. I have 2 follicles on my right ovary. Two hopes of starting a family. If not, next month. There is always next month.
Why does this journey seem to be endless? I don't know. Sometimes I fear the path ahead. Sometimes I'm sure everything will be all right. Sometimes I do not think; I stand still in time and history, as if it were possible to do so. I stop my existence and remain in limbo, waiting for the day I am blessed with the joy of motherhood.
I know, I am not still. I am religiously taking the hormones I am told to take: the medication that makes me release extra eggs, the spray of estrogen that guarantees my lining is thick enough to support the embryo's implantation, the injection on my belly that makes me ovulate precisely after 36 hours, making this IUI more of an exact science, the vaginal suppositories of progesterone that help keep the embryo in, in case of pregnancy. I feel I'm being prepped and pumped like fat cattle ready for slaughter. I've gained a few pounds, more than I wished to. I feel my anxiety has turned from nausea to compulsive eating, at times. I fear the results of so many drugs in my system. Mind you, I do not have any fertility problems myself.
Yet, the fact that I am healthy and fertile but need all the extra help makes me bitter sometimes. Not much, just a tiny little bit of anger. I love my husband, and it isn't his fault if his sperm count isn't great. It isn't my fault either. I tell myself I'll do whatever it takes. And if it means taking Femara, Evamist, hCG, Prometrium, well, so be it. I'll worry about breast cancer later. Or will I?
Next step takes place soon. Soon after I finish typing these words, put away my computer, get into the car and drive to the laboratory, and then to the medical office where I may hopefully get pregnant with my very first intrauterine insemination. Wish me luck.