Friday, May 26, 2006

Wow, this is tough. Writing the first entry in a new blog is sort of like starting a new school -- and I never liked feeling like the geek who didn't know anyone.

I should probably introduce myself. Except I'm really bad with introductions. And this blog is kind of like a safe, anonymous place where I can complain about infertility. Since we've pretty much had to notify the entire world of our plans (no kidding, people I don't even know, know that I can't get pregnant), it's nice to have a quiet place where I can complain without people telling me to "just relax, it will happen". Which isn't so bad when it's someone I can unleash my clomid-bitch on, but usually it's an inlaw. So then I can't.

Weirdly, the main reason I keep hearing "relax it'll happen" is because it has. Twice. I've managed to get pregnant twice, with little to no medical intervention. I have one (mostly) sweet and beautiful son from my first pregnancy. And one more scar on my heart from my second.

So I'm one of those in-betweens - I'm fertile and yet not. My husband is the same way. When we met, he already had a child, and I already had failed to get pregnant... so, naturally, I assumed I had a problem. When my ob suggested a SA "just in case", we were all shocked when it wasn't perfect... and then we found out I was pregnant. End of fertility testing, problem solved (or at least postponed)... and no answers other than "two years of trying is still in the normal range".

Directly after Screamy was born, I had the birth control discussion with my doctor, who was horrified to learn that I just wasn't interested in getting on any. I had a rough pregnancy. My doctor questioned my sanity in opting for no birth control, but hey - I know my girlparts, and they just don't work right. I wasn't too worried about getting pregnant so soon.

Smart move on my part. Just before Screamy turned two, we decided it was time to get serious again, and since we'd been off birth control for over a year, my doctor was willing to at least listen to what was going on. But that was it. He didn't think there was a problem. "sometimes it takes a year or two" .. yep, it sure does. Fortunately, my girlparts were working overtime to crank out issues until we came up with something serious enough that my doctor would have to at least consider that maybe things were not all well (which is impressive - usually going for an exam is like taking the car to the mechanic - as soon as you get there, the weird noise stops and everything's working just peachy) .. three months, 5,000 vials of blood and one ultrasound later, he threw up his hands and admitted defeat... and finally gave me the referral I needed to go see a gyn. She took one look at the tests he'd run and decided I have pcos. Uh-huh. I was skeptical, but willing to try metformin. "we can get you pregnant" she said. Great... only, I forgot to tell her we needed to keep me pregnant also... after five months on metformin, we repeated the hubby's SA, and the results were worse than before... "IUI is your only hope". Alrighty then. So we take a month off before we start the process to get referred to the RE and - I'm pregnant again. (we must have relaxed, right?) .. and hey, this time it only took 22 months instead of 24..

For eight weeks, I was pregnant, and it was great. And then I wasn't.

That was two-and-a-half months ago. My ob advised waiting for one full cycle before trying again, and sent us off to the RE. We did our first clomid/IUI cycle last month, with no success and are currently gearing up for our second... which brings me to where we are now. Still trying. A little bit of male factor, a little bit of female and an awful lot of hoping going on.

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