Quick backstory: I have always had irregular periods. My mom did too, and had trouble conceiving even in her early 20′s. In fact, I have two adoptive siblings. So I always suspected that when it came time for me to try to conceive, it would not be one of those lickety split situations. My husband and I got married about a year ago, and would have loved to just chill for a while baby-free. But I am now 36 (I turn 37 in April), and knowing it might take a while, we decided to start not not trying. In other words, Trojans aside – let ‘er rip.
Last July, I thought I might be pregnant because I experienced what I thought was implantation bleeding and didn’t have a period for a long time. I went to the gyno for a pregnancy test, and she said not only was I not pregnant, but I was not ovulating and I should go on Clomid. After this news, I didn’t have a period for 50 days. The following month, on a friend’s recommendation, I read Taking Charge of Your Fertility, which is extremely enlightening. One of the things I learned is that when you have irregular periods, you are often not ovulating at all. So when you finally have what you think is a period, it’s not a period at all, but what is called anovulatory bleeding. For anyone trying to get pregnant or just wanting to know how your body works, I strongly recommend this book. It saddens me that, until last August, I had very limited knowledge of how babies are made. Who knew there was cervical mucous, waking temperature, ovulation predictor kits and all that good stuff? And I can’t believe I spent the first 35 years of my life trying so hard not to get pregnant when getting pregnant is virtually impossible most days of the month! Honestly, I don’t know how anyone has an ‘accidental’ pregnancy. But I digress…
In January, 2009 we decided to see a fertility specialist, or RE as they seem to be called online. After learning about my background, he suggested three rounds of IUI with Clomid. If that didn’t work, three rounds of IUI with FSH shots. Then if we were still not pregnant, we would regroup. He seemed very encouraging and relatively certain, given what he knew then, that this course of action would get us pregnant. I was assigned a nurse and left the office feeling very positive. I called several times with questions before my first procedure and my calls were not returned. The receptionists were rude. If it wasn’t enough frustration to have to see an RE in the first place and pay for everything out of pocket (my first visit alone was more than $950), being treated like an anonymous pest was not helping matters.
Our very expensive and invasive diagnostic tests showed my girl parts to be in proper working order except for the irregular ovulation, which could be corrected with Clomid. My husband came in on the low end of all three semen standards: count, motility and morphology, but not so low that the doctor went off of his initial course. We did our first IUI on January 27th. After the sperm wash (What’s a sperm wash? Oh, yet another costly procedure requiring one’s husband to whack off into a cup, and then hand his nectar of life off to the lab tech who, with a smirk, takes the sample and removes all but the highest quality swimmers), we were working with 12 million of his best guys. I got my period two weeks later like clockwork. When we came back for the ultrasound (which is required to start another round of IUI – all of these pricy tests and doctor visits are a constant reminder of our inability to do it “the old fashioned way”), we papered the doctor with questions.
I have three friends who had one unsuccessful IUI and went straight to IVF and got pregnant. He said, I can’t speak to their cases because everyone is different. We asked about our chances. The chances of getting pregnant with IUI are around 10%. We gain a couple of percentage points with a higher dose of Clomid on the 2nd round, which would make more eggs, meaning more “targets” for the sperm. We asked why we shouldn’t go straight to IVF, where the chances are about 50/50. He said if money was no object, sure. But if you’re willing to be patient, we prefer to do the less expensive and less invasive procedures first. That seemed reasonable to me, although considering that three IUI’s costs the same as a single IVF, it is a gamble. I mentioned to the doctor that we would also consider taking a break from IUI and just trying for a natural pregnancy and he looked at me funny. He said our chances of getting pregnant on our own are 0-1%. With Clomid, the chances are 0-2%. I told him the experience was stressful and finally admitted that he was great, but his office was terrible. He was mortified to discover how I had been treated (in addition to being unattentive, they had drawn my blood unnecessarily and sent me in for an unnecessary ultrasound) and immediately assigned me a new nurse. I said I didn’t want to be high maintenance, but the experience was stressful enough without the office slacking too. He said “We have high maintenance. You are not high maintenance.” Since then, I have been treated great.
So – now that you’re all caught up – I am on day 12 of IUI cycle #2. Last month, I ovulated around day 16, but who knows if the Clomid will make me drop an egg earlier. That said, the nurse said my husband should abstain for 4-5 days before the procedure (which takes place on ovulation day), so we figured last night was a good night to do the nasty. The one good thing about conceiving medically is that it makes sex only for fun, not that mechanical ‘get pregnant’ sex that so many of my friends have complained about. Meantime, on Wednesday my husband went to a reproductive urologist who said he may have a medical reason for the low sperm numbers: a vein that blocks the stuff from coming out. There is a surgery that can be done to correct it, but it would delay our reproductive efforts. He is having one more test to determine whether the surgery is necessary.
Two months, some damaged confidence and thousands of dollars later, we have a lot more information than we started with, which is a comfort.
Peeing on sticks until next time,
Phoebe
