Thursday, June 25, 2009

I am still not pregnant. This was the last unofficial month we were going to try to get pregnant, "the old-fashioned way." My period is late, so maybe I was a but hopeful for a few hours, but the pregnancy test dashed those hopes. I will try another test tomorrow if the period still doesn't come. I wrote last time about a sense of relief which I am feeling somewhat again now. I am planning my next trimester's classes and looking forward to a full schedule that is now allowed since I have quit my job; wanting to utterly immerse myself in that world of healing and the body.

I am getting more used to the concept that Iris will be my only biological child, although there are other things that I have to write about to make my current reality become more clear. So here it goes:

I am now going to take you back in time to just over two years ago. It was at this time that my husband and I first admitted defeat and went to see a fertility specialist. He was a kindly old gentleman who had dedicated himself and his science to helping women conceive and deliver. An award winning miracle worker. After the consultation and examination, involving an intrauterine ultrasound, his recommendation was to try Clomid first which is an oral medication used to induce regular ovulation. The words I remember most coming out of the sage's mouth was, "Time is not on our side."

It was hell. Emotions hitting the wall and mood swings to left field. I stumble back into the office not pregnant where they discover lo and behold two enormous ovarian cysts that induced the radiologist to utter an audible, "Whoa!" Cysts?? She asked me if I felt any pain. Nope, no pain. Spotting? Nope, not that either. After she and I get over the shock of giant cysts on my ovaries, and she assures me that they were not life threatening (for to me cysts=cancer) she went for further advise while I sit contemplating the growths in my lower half. She returns to tell me that they cannot do an insemination (the next step) this month because of the cysts, and that instead I should go on birth control pills for a month to try to shrink the cysts. Birth Control Pills. That was a stunner. My aim is to get pregnant, don't you see? I ask if women usually get cysts from Clomid. "Sometimes," she says. Not a woman of many words, this one. I begin to get angry, "Why is it prescribed then?" I get nowhere on that argument. I slump into resignation, shocked and appalled at my current situation. This isn't what I bargained for and everyone just goes about their business. THis angers me irrationally yet intensly.

So I went on a birth control pill, angry the whole time. Another precious month flies away. I go back in and the cysts are still there and now they are recommending a procedure called aspiration whereby they put me under and insert a tool with a pin attached into my uterus and up my fallopian tubes to prick the damn cysts to release the liquid held therein. They assure me that once the procedure is done, I will be free and clear to begin the process for insemination ASAP. OK, fine. Let's get it over with. I do the aspiration. I remember that the anesthesiologist was very kind. Overall, the procedure was fine. No lasting discomfort and then I was ready for injectibles and insemination. This could be it!

I prepared. It took me 20 minutes to get that first short needle into my stomach that injected a medication into me to stimulate follicle growth. My husband and I watched the needling videos on our computer over and over before he was ready to jab that longer thicker needle into my ass for ovulation. We went in at our designated times on the day of the insemination, and then waited. No pregnancy.

I went in for another examination. More cysts. Must wait another month before insemination can happen again, or another aspiration, or we give up. They told me I must produce these cysts regularly. Could this by why do don't get pregnant? They can't answer that. It's amazing to me how often I am reminded of little we truly know about our bodies. It makes sense to me that cysts could prevent the body from doing it's god-given function and allowing me to conceive. The cysts could even mean that I am not ovulating at all. But, of course, no one could tell me for sure.

I was angry and frustrated. My general mood was dour. The summer had been wasted with Clomid haze, knowledge and worry of cysts, impatience, disappointment, frustration, and lack of control over my body and function. It was now fall and I had to keep waiting or make the decision to stop with the procedures, the poking and prodding, and the needles. But I am 39 and we tried our way for years with no baby. Back and forth. Back and forth. I am spent, tired, angry and I still have to go to work, face my clients and colleagues, cook dinner for and be a supportive member of my family. I go on.

The next step is Jenny and Dave's wedding. A great event in and of itself. We dress up and have a great time. But this event will always remain as a milestone in my life's events for reasons that I will relay in my next entry. Stay tuned, I'll be back.

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