Yesterday I went to my RE’s office for a CD10 scan to take a look at how my follicles responded to the Femara. My doctor was surprised to see already a 22.5mm size follicle (and a 16.5mm follicle) and let me know it was large enough that we should do the trigger shot right away and do the IUI the next morning.
Apparently my follicles are just as eager as I am to get this show on the road.
As I have an automatic stress response whenever I’m in my RE’s office, I was feeling incredibly nervous to find out how my body had responded to the meds. I expected no mature follicles, or too many mature follicles, or a bunch of new cysts, or anything that would lead to canceling this cycle. So I felt giddy and relieved that we would be going forth, and going forth so quickly (the end of the 2WW would be that much closer! went through my mind immediately).
I was thankful we were able to administer the trigger shot in the office, with the nurse’s guidance and obvious expertise. For whatever reason, she told us she was not allowed to give the shot, and that responsibility still fell on my husband. I‘m not afraid of needles, but in the hands of an amateur I panicked, and grabbed onto the nurse’s shoulder and closed my eyes.
My husband hid his fear and successfully injected 10,000 units of HCG into my belly.
We returned this morning to the office excited. The nurse admitted me and took my blood pressure and pulse. “Blood pressure, 92 over 62, pulse 72. You’re all about the twos today!” She turned and with a sly smile said under her breath, “Maybe it’s a sign…”
My husband and I just looked at each other, giggled nervously, and muttered “Uhhh….”
Of course at this point I’d be thrilled with two.
The actual procedure should have been simple, but because of trouble with my cervix was longer and more uncomfortable than I expected. My husband also spent about 10 minutes asking for proof and reassurance that they hadn’t mixed up the sperm samples, a thought that crossed both our paranoid minds about 5 minutes before the procedure and caused instant panic. Once convinced, he then proceeded to ask for a high five from everyone around us after they told us the count. 40 million. My doctor said they usually hope for at least 5 million.
So now it’s done, and now we wait. I had been feeling positive and hopeful, but snapped back into my often pessimistic reality with my doctor’s last words.
“Don’t be crushed if it doesn’t work. Sometimes it happens with the first IUI, but often it takes three or four tries. I tell all my patients that. I just don’t want you to be crushed if it doesn’t happen.”
Oh yeah. This might not work. But there’s no way to avoid feeling crushed, and burdened with disappointment. I wish it was as simple as someone telling me not to be crushed, and that would help me avoid that terrible pitfall. But it’s unavoidable.
I think I’ve accepted that.
And I still hope.