Infertility Bites

Infertile, Trying to Conceive, and Forty-One Years Old – Ain't THAT a Bummer!?!

The Countdown’s On March 3, 2008

Yup, the home stretch of the ever-famous Two Week Wait.  Merely 72 hours left before it’s been 14 days past ovulation (aka 14dpo) and our IUI.  So now, the question (still) remains (Thank God!)… is vamplita going to be a mommy this month?  Is she pregnant with a baby vamplita or a replica of her beloved F?  So far, the jury’s still out. 

 I plan to go this afternoon to a dollar store and buy some cheapie home pregnancy tests (HPTs).  Then I won’t feel quite as wasteful if I go ahead and pee on a stick (POAS) prior to 14dpo.  I’ve been experiencing bizarre things within the past couple of days.  Either they’re weird things that have happened previously before Aunt Flo (AF) showed up that I never noticed before, or something (God, I hope it’s this option!) may be going on in Uterusville.  It’s kind of hard for me to say – I’ve been much more observant of my body lately, and it’s difficult to just chalk this up to one thing or another. 

I know, there are many of you who probably think that it’s ridiculous for me to all of a sudden be more observant of what’s happening with my body and its reproductive efforts.  In my own defense, I’ll remind you that I have PCOS, which for me meant that I charted ad nauseum and never saw anything that even came close to resembling a normal cycle.  We’re talking months and months without so much as a hiccup in temperature, folks.  I’d use Ovulation Predictor Kit (OPK) with 20 strips in it without so much as a trace of color change.  No double line ever existed.  (The funny thing was that on the outside of the box, it states that this kit is for any cycle length.  What a complete and total joke.  Oh sure, it’s for any cycle length if you’re not a total freak of nature female unfortunate enough to suffer from PCOS, thankyouverymuch.  But I digress.)  Small wonder that I got to the point where I didn’t notice anything – for ages, nothing was happening to notice. 

So now, I get a tiny pain and think, “hmmm…”  Or, I feel warmer than what I think I ought to and think, “Okay, that’s weird.”  I just generally feel like my lower belly’s a bit larger yet firmer than usual (which is saying something), and comment to myself, “Well, that’s interesting.”  Plus, I feel like I’ve had to pee more often than usual.  But, again, as I said, I could just be noticing things that have always happened that didn’t stick out in my mind until now, when I’m waiting to see if our lives are going to be forever altered.  Damn, just noticed my nipples are currently sore, too.  lol. 

I stumbled upon some really interesting information this weekend.  There’s a bill called the Family Building Act of 2007, HR 2892, that was sent to some subcommittee or other back in September of 2007.  It mandates that insurance companies and group policies would be required to provide infertility insurance.  That would be such a Godsend for countless infertile couples across the US, myself and F amongst them. 

We live in a state that is very  assinine backwards  reluctant to resolve this issue.  The legislators of Texas, in their shortsightedness, mandated that the insurance companies offer the infertility insurance to groups and employers as an option.  Notice the difference between the proposed federal bill and this sorry excuse for legislation Texas law?  Gee, just how many employers and purchasers of group policies do you think actually do the right thing and choose to provide infertility insurance for its policy holders??  Few, my friends; very few. 

They’re all about saving that Almighty Dollar, doncha know.  Never mind that they’re not doing what’s morally right.  Oh well – as long as everyone with the insurance policy isn’t out an additional thirty-or-so dollars for their policies per year, I guess that’s the best thing.  Why should they pay for someone else’s problems, after all???  It’s not like having a child is something vital to a woman’s existence, after all.  Of course, I could say the same thing for men who take Viagra, and their insurance helps to pay for it, couldn’t I?  Nah, men need to get their rocks off.  It’s part of who they are, right?  After all, what good is a man who can’t get an erection that lasts for several hours, huh?   I suppose I’m just being selfish. 

 If anyone within the US reads this, I’d really appreciate it if you emailed your congressmen, to request they pass HR 2892, and give infertile couples at least a chance to become parents without facing financial ruin.  Email your state representatives and senators…let them know you are interested in getting similar legislation passed in your state in the meantime.  Or, if you’re fortunate to live in any of the 12 states that have already passed this legislation, contact your legislators and tell them how splendid that law is!!  Anywho… I’ll shut up for now. 

If you’re interested in reading HR 2892, here it is:
I visited GoPetition and found the following page about HR 2892 very interesting:

Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow… February 5, 2008

is it.  Pregnancy Test Day.  My current raison d’etre.  I know that I really ought not put too much emphasis on this time around, considering our poor showing during ovulation.  And yet… the tiniest glimmer of hope is there, whispering into my ear with the faintest voice.  It tells me that it is possible that I’m pregnant.  Stranger things have happened, right?? 

From a strictly scientific perspective, it’s fascinating to witness what’s happening to me ever since I (probably) ovulated.  For the past two or three days, my stomach’s been feeling weird, and my breasts have been tender/borderline sore.  It could be happening because I’m pregnant, or it could also be purely psychosomatic because I know what the early symptoms of pregnancy are. 

I haven’t told anyone, because I don’t want to give anyone false hopes if I’m not preggers.  If I told F that I’ve been feeling these symptoms, he might think it’s actually happened, and it would be such a disappointment to him, knowing that I’d been having symptoms.  I want he and I to find out together tomorrow.  He’s going to the appointment with me. 

It’s a follow-up with my doctor, Dr. S.  If we find out that I’m pregnant, then we embark upon that aspect of this journey with a song in our hearts, and our fingers crossed.  If we’re not pregnant, we discuss our game plan for the next month.  Personally, if we’re not with child this time around, I want us to try IUI (interuterine insemination) next month, along with the Clomid. 

Granted, it’s more expensive when your bloody insurance won’t cover it, but it’s also got a higher percentage rate of success when compared to using Clomid and relying on intercourse.  What would happen is this:  I’d start my cycle, either naturally, or with the help of prometrium.  Sometime during the first 3 days of my cycle, I’d go in for an ultrasound, which would be used as a baseline for that month’s egg developmental progress.  On days 3-7, I’d take the Clomid.  Next, I’d start monitoring my luteal phase with an over-the-counter Ovulation Predictor Kit (OPK).  If I don’t ovulate by day 15, I’d have to take an injection of Ovidrel to stimulate my egg follicles to mature and drop.  

As soon as I’d get a positive when using the OPK, I’d have to call the doctor’s office that morning, so they could make an appointment for me that day.  Then, F would have to contribute his swimmers, either in person, or at home and take his sample in within one hour of its release.  It would be “washed”, assuring that the best of the best swimmers were concentrated into a sample for insertion into my uterus. 

When my appointment came around, the techs would use ultrasound to insert a long, thin catheter into my uterus, and then inject F’s washed (and New and Improved!) concentrate into the catheter.  Once the procedure would be complete, I’d have to remain horizontal for a little while, hoping everyone knows which way they ought to be going. 

The reason they use this technique is to help the little swimmers along by shortening their route dramatically.  They get to avoid the sometimes harsh environment of the vagina, and they’re put into the express lane, bypassing the vagina to go straight into the uterine cavity.  Now, the techs still can’t control which way the sperm swim once they’re into the uterus, but at least more of them have an increased chance to at least be in the running in the Race to the Egg.  Little Ms. Ova and any mature sisters she may have, ought to have dropped from the ovaries, and begin heading through the fallopian tubes, toward the uterine cavity.  In the meantime, F’s swimmers will start (hopefully) moving through the womb and into the fallopian tube(s) to meet any eligible bachelorette eggs in their path.  The first swimmer to meet this egg wins – no one else is allowed to fertilize that egg once it’s fertilized by the sperm who got there first.  


Howdy January 28, 2008

Filed under: pregnant hopes and dreams — vamplita @ 4:11 pm
Tags: , , ,

Not truly sure why I decided to blog.  Perhaps it’s because I have things I want to get off my chest, and can’t tell my husband, F.  Maybe it’s because I’m trying like hell to get pregnant, and need somewhere to vent when things don’t go my way.  It could even be due to the fact that I’ll be (ugh) forty years old this next weekend, and I’m scared to death that I won’t be able to conceive because of my bloody PCOS.  Yeppers – it could be any or all of the above. 

 Take for instance this past weekend… my OPK (ovulation predictor kit) finally showed something I’d never seen before… an LH surge, which meant I would ovulate within the next 24 to 48 hours.  When I went in for my ultrasound (u/s) that afternoon, I told the nurse of what I thought was my good news.  She said, “Really?  Eww… it didn’t look to me as if your eggs had gotten much bigger than the baseline at the start of your cycle… well, just in case you already ovulated, and the eggs were released, have sex tonight and tomorrow night, just to be on the safe side.”

So, vamplita goes home, with her marching orders in hand.  F and I knew that this would possibly be the night they’d want us to have sex.  He even took Friday and Saturday off, planning ahead.  (That hubby of mine is a definite Planner, folks.)  I get home and tell F, “Hey, good news… we’ll get to have sex, ’cause I’ve ovulated.”

This is the response I got:  “Ugh, I’m not feeling good, honey.  My stomach’s killing me.”  I’m thinking, great – that’s just frickin’ great.  I try not to show too much annoyance, thinking he’ll get over it, and, if necessary, “take one for the team”, right???  After all, he does understand that there’s only a damned small window of opportunity, right?  I know I explained it to him before this.  I again mentioned to him that we only had that Friday night and Saturday night to try to get my eggs fertilized with his swimmers.  “OK, ” was his response.

Do I even have to tell you that we didn’t have sex on Friday night?  Does that shock you?  It did me.  How many times have we had sex when I didn’t exactly feel up to it, but I did it because he wanted it, and I wanted to please him??  (Mind you, during those times, I’d wanted it too, but I wasn’t feeling well.)  God, I was pissed beyond pissed when I woke up the next day, without having had so much as a bloody grope.

 We did have sex the next night… make that 4AM Sunday morning, thankyouverymuch.  Guess who (again) didn’t feel well?  Guess who started watching (of all things) Godfather II on A&E?  Hardly a short cinematic event, now is it?  I watched it with him, but was sitting there in a nightshirt and nothing else.  You’d think that would’ve done something to make him want to have sex.  Oh, he mentioned taking a shower, but nope…no shower until the movie was over. 

Now, I’m not usually one to get down on her knees to pray to the good Lord above, but I did that Sunday morning before hubby got out of his shower.  I kept praying over and over the same words, “Please, God, let me get pregnant this time.”  I couldn’t help but think that perhaps F was dragging his feet out of some subconscious rebellion against having to have things so rigidly scheduled.  Maybe he resented not being able to father a child without medical intervention due to his wife’s irregular menstrual cycles; I don’t know. 

After we were finished with our babymaking session, I began to cry as I was laying there.  I was hoping so very fervently for fertilization to occur, in spite of what seemed to be my husband’s (subconscious) best efforts to sabotage us this month. 

It was so very important to me that we follow the doctor’s advice to a T, since I hadn’t experienced that clearly-defined a window of opportunity in over 15 years.  And here we were, barely following the directives given according to our deadline.  Hell yeah, I cried out of frustration, relief that we’d finally had sex, release of stress, quixotic hope that it might’ve worked this time.    

 Long story short?  If any of my (undersized) eggs were fertilized, it’ll be a bloody miracle, but I keep hoping…

I’ll find out for sure on the sixth of next month.  Keep your fingers crossed!