So, I had my first monitoring appointment yesterday since the Clomid. I have two potential lead follicles that look good, and my hormones are heading in the right direction. All good news.
Not-so-good: the continuing need for frequent transvaginal ultrasounds. Man, do I hate these fuckers. They are the worst. I’d like to personally administer one to every Republican congressman who’s ever suggested making them mandatory for women seeking abortions. We’ll find a place for the wand, if they don’t have a vagina handy.
The worst, this last time, was that I got all situated on the table, sans pants and with my feet in the stirrups, modesty sheet in place, only for the doctor to announce that the system didn’t have my records queued up, so he’d need to go speak to the front desk. Continue reading
Recently, I started getting the feeling that my mom wanted me to get IVF. I got this feeling because of several subtle remarks she’d made, such as, “If they knocked me out, I wouldn’t care about the egg harvesting at all, personally,” and “Me? I would have done anything to be able to have a child.” I was an English major, so I’m professionally trained to pick up subtext.
“Listen to me,” I told my sister. “Mom is pressuring me to have IVF, but she’s doing it in a sneaky mom way, so there’s no way I can say anything about it without sounding like a crazy person.”
We were on the phone, but I could still kind of hear her roll her eyes.
“She can’t make you do anything,” she reminded me. However, she would not promise to interrogate Mom the next time she was visiting, to see if I was right. She has morals, which is the only thing I don’t like about her. Continue reading
I’ve been feeling a little depressed lately about how much of this whole infertility struggle is on me.
Don’t get me wrong: my husband is supportive and as involved as he can be. Plus, you know, there’s the whole having to masturbate outside the privacy of his own home thing, which I imagine most men are carefully taught not to do, starting at a very young age.
But still, all of the medical risk and most of the aggravation are on my side. I realized that right at the start, of course, because I’d been trying to get pregnant for years, which naturally involves a lot of thinking that one might be pregnant, and scanning the ol’ body for signs of same. (And the signs are all gross: swelling, nausea, nipple changes, etc.)
But it really struck me how unfair all this is when we sat down with our reproductive endocrinologist to make a plan. Continue reading