The Moment We Had Our First IUI
It’s been almost 4 years of trying to conceive a child.
Now if you take 4x12 months thats 48 months. Minus a couple because we didn’t really start trying until January 2017, 1 month of pregnancy, and a couple months off here and there, we are at about 40 months of trying. 40 months of exhaustion. 40 months of tears. 40 months of negatives. 40 months of praying and believing.
Technically, this isn’t even our first attempt at an IUI. In August 2020, we tried a cycle where I took 100 mg of Clomid to grow stronger follicles. Unfortunately, Clomid affected me the same way Letrozole did. It suppressed what was body was already doing on it’s own instead of empowering it. I ended up with no follicles that cycle.
In September 2020, we tried a natural IUI, but missed ovulation. By the time I had my first follicle scan, I already had ovulated, so that cycle was out.
While this may be our first IUI, it’s really our third attempt.
Tomorrow, I go in for a second sonogram to see how my right follicle is measuring. On Wednesday, Oct. 7th, I went in for my first scan. That was day 9 of my new cycle, and while I felt it was a bit early, the Nurse Practitioner wanted to check as to not miss ovulation. As expected, my body was not ready to release an egg, but I did have one right follicle measuring at 1.32 cm.
If you are a fertility guru like me, feel free to skip this part, but for everyone else: the follicle needs to be about a 2 cm or more to release. Follicles tend to grow .2 cm a day so by the Sunday, Oct 11 or Monday, Oct 12 my body would release an egg.
Tomorrow at 10:15 a.m., I will go in for another sonogram to check that follicle is growing. If it’s at a 1.7 or more, IUI will be scheduled for Monday.
The Two Week Wait
On Friday, October 9, I returned to the doctor’s for my second sonogram. As I made small talk with the sonographer, I prayed my one follicle was big enough. The sonographer then walked me to the consulting room to wait for the nurse practitioner. Tapping my foot, checking my watch every few seconds, my nerves finally got the best of me, and I had to use the restroom. By the time I returned, my NP was ready for me. Cheerfully, she announced my follicle was ready at a 1.7. She told me to continue checking my LH (luteinizing hormone) in case I surged already. If not, I was to give myself a trigger shot Saturday night so my egg would release 36 hours later on Monday morning.
Friday night I was feeling quit hopeful. This could be it. This could be our month. However, that hope didn’t stick around for long. Late Saturday morning, I decided to check my LH to make sure it hadn’t surged. It was at a zero. I crumbled and tears ran down my check. I knew if I was at zero I was going to miss ovulation. I threw myself a pity party and wept as I my husband held me. I told him we would just have to cancel this IUI because it would be too late.
Your LH will rise about 24 to 48 hours before ovulation. On this EPT test, it spikes when you reach 30 and then drops drastically. Mine had most likely spiked and then dropped by the time I checked it.
When I woke up Sunday morning, I checked my LH again and it was at a 1 which means it had already dropped. That Sunday night, as I was working out, I started having pain on my right side. I usually feel myself ovulate, so I felt since I was just beginning to ovulate, I still had a chance. They say the egg lasts up to 24 for hours before it disintegrates. Our IUI was scheduled for 8:45 the next morning, so I knew I still had a chance.
As my husband arrived home from soccer, I explained to him that I had changed my mind (which happens frequently), and I wanted us to do the IUI the next day. (Even though I hadn’t given myself the HCG shot.) Being the loving husband he is, he agreed, and we got up early the next morning to go make a baby!
I dressed to step into God’s destiny that day. I slipped on my “MAMA” shirt and rainbow earrings, believing God was about to create our rainbow baby. We arrived around 7:45 a.m. for Grant to drop off his swimmers. After he was finished, we headed to Chick-Fil-A for breakfast. The Chick-Fil-A had free coffee that morning. If that isn’t a sign of great things happening, I don’t know what is. We returned to the clinic around 8:45 a.m. and around 9:15, they were ready for us.
Grant went back with me for support. After removing the bottom portion of my clothing, I lied back on the clinic mattress. My nurse practitioner came into the room and explained because Grant’s sperm had extra fluff they had to spin it twice so that’s why it took so long. I said, “Oh, is that a reason we aren’t getting pregnant?” “No.” She said. “Oh,” I said despondently.
As I lied back, she opened me up just as she would in a pap smear. She had to dilate my cervix because of how it is shaped. Again I asked, “Oh, is my cervix a reason we aren’t getting pregnant?” “No,” she responded. “Oh.”
Then up went the flexible spectrum. Pain shot through my lower abdomen as she released the sperm, but she assured me that meant it went to where it was supposed to. The policy is to lie there for twenty minutes, so I scrolled my phone to pass the time and to not dwell on the pain. The NP came back after 20 minutes and said that we were ready to go. I got up, got dressed, and we headed out the door.
Now we wait.
Infertility is constantly a game of hurry up and wait. A new cycle starts. Hope arises that this could be the cycle. Then we have the dreaded “two week wait”. Two weeks to see if what we hoped, prayed, and believed for has come to be. It’s where we are sitting now. Some days, I feel extremely expectant…like this is it…and other days..I simply don’t.
Infertility has taught me so much about emotions and controlling them opposed to being controlled by them. It can be a total mind game if you let it, but those are the times when I choose to speak God’s truth to myself as we wait.
The Results
At the Moms in the Making conference a month ago, a woman from the spiritual prayer team came and prophesied over me and my blog. The words she spoke were so beautiful and personal, a specific message to me from God. I’m not going to share all that she said, but one thing resinates with me as I type this. She said, “Share the hard. People need to see it all. The good. The bad.” Well this my friends, this is the hard.
It truly pained me to even take this test. I’ve stopped taking pregnancy tests months…no years..ago. To see a negative, month after month tears the soul up. Ninety percent of the time, I just wait until my cycle starts, but this month I knew things could be different. I took the test Sunday, October 25th, because no one wants to see a negative test and then have to teach 17 kindergarteners. It’s just too much.
I wasn’t surprised by the results.
Did I still cry? Yes.
Even this weekend, I’ve cried six times.
Infertility isn’t hard.
It’s faith shaking. It’s deep in your soul, earth-shattering.
It’s sitting on the bathroom floor wailing for when. Pleading with God, why. Doubting that He is good and feeling unloved by Him.
I wish I could end this post saying, “We have faith He will come through. We believe all His promises are Yes and Amen.” While my head knows those words, my heart doesn’t feel them. My heart is just broken and hurting, and that’s ok.