I’ve managed to hold it together at all my RE appointments. I’ve taken hard news in stride, discussed my losses without even a lip quiver, and remained composed and upbeat through all my appointments. I have a good poker face that I’ve relied on for years to keep my emotionally private self, private. So even though I constantly want to cry when I’m in that office, I’ve always waited until I get home to let out the rage-filled tears of frustration.
But then there was today.
After our failed IUI last cycle, my husband and I discussed at length how to move forward. We had jumped quickly to IUI because we had one month left of 100% infertility coverage until my husband left his job. The IUI would be free….so why not? Even though we’ve been getting pregnant naturally on our own, after the trauma of the last year and a half why not be as aggressive as we can and maybe cut out a few months of heartache?
But it didn’t work. And now we had to decide whether to continue doing IUIs and pay out of pocket, or go back to the natural way. Part of me didn’t want to give up the momentum of the IUIs, thinking it had to work in the next few cycles. But it was hard to justify that out of pocket expense when we had gotten pregnant on our own.
But then we got a little gift….as my husband was looking through his exit documents from his old company, we discovered that his health insurance wouldn’t end until the last day of the month following the month of his last day of work. Meaning we had 100% infertility coverage until the last day of September. Meaning we could do another free IUI.
This news lifted me and made me feel so optimistic about going forth. We had a great weekend celebrating my husband’s 34th birthday, and I was able to bounce back from the disappointing BFN of a few days prior. I spoke to my doctor and we discussed what we’d do differently, knowing now how I respond to the medications. Because I responded so quickly, I would go in for a cycle day 2 scan and start monitoring follicle growth earlier. She would switch me to Clomid. And we would try to grow a few more follicles with a more aggressive dosage.
I arrived this morning for my scan with the same familiar butterflies in my stomach, but I felt so optimistic about this cycle that I pretty easily talked myself out of the nerves. I laid down ready for the exam, and a few moments after that lovely wand took a tour of my ovaries, the resident doing my scan pointed something out on the screen to my doctor.
“You have a large cyst on your right ovary, so we need to sit this cycle out,” the doctor explained.
She asked if I was having any pain in that area, to which I had no idea. Between the cramps and stomachaches I get from the progesterone, the fertility meds, and my period I’m used to having a painful party in my stomach. To the point where I’ve stopped paying attention and hardly feel anything anymore.
She went on to explain the cyst was twice the size of my ovary, was probably from the Femara, and then said a bunch of other things that I couldn’t take in because I was too busy focusing on not crying. She told me I should avoid any kind of jarring exercise or sex until it was gone.
And then that moment came when I just knew no matter how much face scrunching or quick blinking I did, the tears were on their way and there was no turning back. And these were not dainty, controllable tears. I had a total meltdown in the office. To the point where I had doctors, nurses, and residents offering hugs, tissues, and sympathetic looks.
“IT’S JUST TAKING SO LONG!!!!” was all I could really get out between the tears.
What do you do when you need to get your ugly cry face out, complete with loud heaves, uncontrollable sobs, and dramatic gasps for air, but you’re in a public place? When you know you need a good hour or so before you can realistically compose yourself? You run out of there immediately and forget to book your next appointment or pick up any of your paperwork. And when all the rampant tears start coming out the second you step outside, you stop caring that you look like a disheveled maniac.
At least that’s what I did.
If we sit out this cycle, the very earliest we’ll see a positive pregnancy test is the end of October. Thirteen months after our last positive test.
I want this year of my life back.