exile in kidville

soap star ovaries
March 20, 2007, 12:57 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

Welcome to yet another infertility blog.

I’ve been a member of the knitting blog fray since January 2005.  I’ve ‘met’ a lot of great people through my blog, and it really clued me in to the deep community that exists in the knitting world.  I’ve recently discovered the same in the infertility universe.  I’m officially throwing myself in.

Husband and I decided to "pull the goalie" in September of 2005,   We met with our GP to have some preliminary blood work done to make sure that we were all tickety-boo and set off to have ourselves a kid. 

It’s now March 2007.  No kidlets.

I’m finally getting around to blogging all of this likely for the same reason you blog.  I need an outlet.  I don’t personally know anyone else who is going through this.  My friends either already have kids or aren’t in the market.  One of my dearest friends told me to relax just last week.  I’m hoping that by joining this blogging community I will be joining a support network as well as an outlet.  I need it. I need you.  I need someone to tell when my temperature is wonky or if my left ovary hurts.  My friends need it too.  They’re tired of nodding their heads sympathetically. 

For my full story, go to the extended entry. 

Nearly immediately after the goalie was given notice, I had a chemical pregnancy.  Nothing since.  Not that I know about anyway.  I’m not a huge fan on peeing on sticks anymore.  Sticks only seem to make me sad. The chemical pregnancy was a rather awful experience.  I went to the Dr. for something completely unrelated.  They gave me a pregnancy test and it came back positive.  I was shocked, as my period seemed to be starting already.  I was a bit skeptical — I really didn’t feel like I could be pregnant.  The Dr. (who was actually a resident filling in for my usual GP) was full of congratulations (among other things), and set in motion the process of booking me for a dating ultrasound.  Gobsmacked, I went home to wait for Husband to get home.  As I waited, my bleeding got heavier and heavier.  Hours ago, that would have been fine.  After my visit to the Dr, it became terrifying.  I called the Dr. office and told the resident that my bleeding was getting heavier, and maybe she should have another look at that pregnancy test.  They sent me for blood work over the next two days.  By Friday, when the results were in, the resident didn’t call me until after my clinic was closed, but left me a message to call her back for the results.  As expected, no one picked up the phone.  It was pretty clear what the results were at that point anyway, but I was still livid. 

What was completely unexpected was my reaction.  I was completely and totally devastated.  Husband and I were walking around town that weekend and I would burst into tears every time we saw a baby.  We were still at the "let’s just see what happens" stage of pursuing parenthood — almost ambiguous about it.  Until then.  My highly emotional reaction made it very clear to us.  I wanted a baby. 

In September 2006, our GP referred me to an OB\GYN.  This was a nightmare.  Said Dr. tried a little too hard to be young and hip, but this actually turned out to be her least offensive quality.  She was entirely unavailable.  I was in her office for 10 minutes.  She told me I had PCOS, wrote out a script for 100 mg Clo.mid on days 5-9, told me that I should have sex on CD 12, 14, 16, & 18, handed me three requisitions to have progesterone blood work done on day 23 or 24, and sent me out the door. If my period didn’t happen in 28-32 days, I was to up my dosage of Clo.mid by 50mg/cycle that didn’t fit that range of dates and call her in December.  What?  Okay.  As you might expect, questions popped up after I left the office and occasionally throughout the month.  I could not get an appointment.  I couldn’t get her to call me.  Nothing.  When I would call to make an appointment, her reception staff asked, "When did she want to see you?"  Who cares when SHE wanted to see me?  *I* wanted to see her as soon as an appointment was available. After I called a million times to get the results of my progesterone blood work, she finally called me at home and left me a message telling me that my progesterone was "through the roof" and that if I hadn’t taken a pregnancy test yet, I should do so immediately.  Then she said, "If it’s negative, just start the Clomi.phene again on day five and if it’s positive, then I’ll be a hero." 

For real.  She said that.

I don’t know if I believe the PCOS diagnosis.  I get the feeling that this is what docs tell you when they have no idea what is going on with your body — I feel the same way about IBS.  Don’t get me wrong, I know that PCOS is very real, and a very true and devastating diagnosis for many women.  I also know that they symptoms/signs of PCOS can be rather ambiguous, and that I really don’t have many of them other than irregular periods and a seeming inability to get knocked up.  If that is enough to unequivocally diagnose me with PCOS, so be it.  Really, that’s fine — I’m just not convinced that it isn’t also simply an easy catch-all for those of us with unexplained infertility. 

Our GP then intervened a bit, as she got the feeling after an appointment with Husband that Dr. OB/GYN was not looking at the whole picture, and referred us to a Fertility Clinic.  We scored an appointment for mid-December.  In the meantime they re-did all of the blood work, a(nother) SA for Husband, and an HSG for me before our initial appointment so the RE could have all of the information possible before our first visit.  I finally felt taken care of. 

The RE started me tracking my BBT, as well as 50mg Seroph.ene on days 3-7 plus 1,500mg Met.formin/day.  I’ve ovulated every cycle, but no success.  Yet.  Yet, right? 

My last trip to the RE, looking at my temp chart convinced her I was pregnant.  She immediately sent me for blood work.  I couldn’t bring myself to pee on a stick.  I just couldn’t.  The next day, just as I was about to get into the car with Husband and a colleague of his from work to go on a weekend ski trip, the nurse from the Fertility Clinic calls and gives me that bad news.  Negative.  I sat in the front seat, crying as quietly as I possibly could.  Then I cried much of the following week. 

I’m now obsessed with the charting in a way that can’t be healthy.  I’m trying to let go a little bit, but think I may be nearing the height of my threshold for "we’ll just keep trying" mode.    The charting is practically an outlet of its own, particularly in combination with the TCOYF message boards.  Argh.  I’m doomed.

So that’s my story in a nutshell.  Thanks for sticking it out with me if you’ve read this far.  I’ll keep you posted.  I’m currently in my 2ww . . . CD 23 . . . 5DPO . . .   


7 Comments so far
Leave a comment

Hi Megan
I am a Meghan too. I hear you. None of my friends are going through this its been tough. Hang in there. We are all here to lean on for support and advise. I have been through a ton and hope to help. Feel free to check out my blog.

Comment by Meghan

Welcome to the infertility blogworld, though I do wish you didn’t have to join us. I’ll look forward to reading your blog and following your story. We’re also starting with Clomid now too, so hopefully we can compare notes!

Comment by carrie

Wish I didn’t have to welcome you, but nevertheless please know you’re not alone. Check out Cyclesista if you haven’t already — it’s a great way to meet bloggers going through the same treatments.

Comment by Kirby

Welcome to the IF blogland! I’ve had some bad medical office experiences too, although nothing that compares to your first doctor! I’m glad you’ve found a specialist who’s willing to consider more than her own ego!
I’ll add you to my blog roll.

Comment by Samantha

Welcome! I’m sure that you’ll find tons of supportive women here – I certainly have! It looks like we both started TTC around the same time.
I’m looking forward to keeping up with you – and to checking out your knitting blog.
Best to you…

Comment by Nikole

Oh. My. Goodness. “A hero?” *sigh* Are there no remedial classes for doctors in need? How about “Bedside Manner: Obtaining One,” or “Basic Human Courtesy: How Not to Forget That You’re Dealing With a Live Person Who Has Feelings” ?

Comment by Coffeegrl

Hello! I said it to someone else the other day, but I always hate welcoming new IF bloggers. I really wish you weren’t going through this, but you’re in excellent company.

Comment by sharah

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