Somewhere in between writing finals, getting my kids ready for the English Regents, and tying up all the other loose-ends in my departments, IUI#3 was a bust. But as life would have it, my existence has been just busy enough that #3 didn’t crush me.
For some reason, I was prepared for the fail. I’m not a real intuitive person by nature, but this time around, I just had a feeling it wouldn’t be a success. It wasn’t pessimism or an evil foreboding, but when I got my period, I wasn’t surprised.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to get my hopes up; it was more that I was just trying not to think about it either way. I spent a great deal of energy this cycle trying not to symptom-spot, trying not to obsess, trying not to over-analyze – and that was a success (Figures). Getting my period was a bummer, no doubt, but it was a ‘sigh,’ a
lot little bit of swearing in my head, and on to 6th period.
I never want to get used to the ‘fail’ – but sometimes, I just feel like I’m getting used to it.
The new game plan is that we are moving on from Clomid to injections. My insurance covers 6 IUIs lifetime, and we’ve got 2 left (For one cycle, we had tandem procedures, and the insurance counted them separately). I began the injections on Friday night, CD3, and I go in tomorrow to check the progress. They are giving me Gonadotropin injections, 225mg, for 8 days,and an hCG trigger (new for me).
I have to say, the initial experience was slightly traumatic for me. I truly have no complaints concerning my RE’s office, but I wish they would have talked me through this one a little more.
Before my appointment, I got a call from the pharmacy company needing my insurance info. Oh, so we are changing the plan? News to me.
The pharmacy company called me back and told me that the total came to $37. Seemed fine. What did I know?
The next day at the Dr.’s office, they asked how it went with the pharmacy. I assumed fine. The nurse asked how much it ended up costing me.
“Thirty-seven dollars. Is that good?”
“Good? Well, out-of-pocket, each injection costs $1000. You are getting 8.”
Mmmm, yeah, I’d say that’s good.
The appointment was just cut and dry – the NP told me we were switching it up and moving on to injections. She gave me the website to look at the video for the meds and sent me on my way. (This was where I wish she had talked me through this a little.) But, you don’t know what you don’t know.
I was feeling a little uncertain about all of this when I got to school, and I was able to talk to my friend Nicole who had been through fertility treatments. When I told her about our next step, she was impressed. Her RE never went that route with her; it wasn’t until she went to a special clinic did they talk about injections.
OK. So I was feeling better.
My delivery was scheduled for 7-11pm. I tried to relax, but I was antsy. It was a beautiful night, and J. and I made a fire in the backyard…but my ears were listening for every car that drove by. Finally, at 10:45pm, the delivery guy arrived. 10:45pm! Who delivers drugs at that hour??? (Legally, I mean.)
I went to the front door, and a Nigerian guy strolled up to my door, apologizing profusely, and handed me a big brown bag full of the goods. The whole things just felt shady to me.
I brought them inside, dumped them on my bed, and I could slowly feel my freak-out coming on. I had no idea what to do with any of it…what order I was supposed to take them, which ones were for what…I didn’t even know the names of what I was taking. I went to the website the NP gave me, but the video wouldn’t play on my iPad or my laptop without installing Flowplayer. Flowplayer? Really? What even is that?
I tried to install it, but it wasn’t working, and I didn’t have the mental energy to figure it out.
At this point, J. is telling me to call the doctor and get his a$$ out of bed to help me, to call my ER triage nurse friend because she would know what to do, to call the hospital…I just wanted to cry. I felt so unprepared. This was $8000 worth of meds – I couldn’t screw this up!
I sent J. back outside, took a few deep breaths. OK. I’m a teacher. I’m smart. I can read the directions and figure this out.
And that’s what I did. About 10 minutes later, I called J. back in to come and stick me (I couldn’t bring myself to do the actual injection).
Well, we think we did it right, and I guess tomorrow, we’ll know.
I’m feeling kind of ambivalent about all of this. Not sure if it is my defense mechanisms or not, but I just have this ‘feeling’ that this won’t work and I’m going to have to go down the IVF road. That I am going to have to play this out to the end. I have no basis for this – just a feeling.
I get these ‘feelings’ about things sometimes, but like I said, I’m not very intuitive; I’m right just about as often as I’m wrong.
Case in point: the past 3 days in a row, I kept seeing/hearing things or someone would say something to me about twins. I don’t know that it means anything, but something like that can turn into a ‘feeling’ for me. So, that’s what I mean – my hunches are unreliable.
I think I do better when I just try to stay level, not think too much about it, try not to figure it out. Ambivalence.
There is one thing,however, that I am not ambivalent about; in fact, I am very convinced of it. It still comes back to this word: hope.
Here’s how it happened this time: On Thursdays, I meet with our senior prayer team before school. I got my period on Wednesday, and I felt like I should share my situation with this group and have them pray for me. At school, I’m pretty private about my infertility issues; some teachers know, but if students had caught wind of anything, it couldn’t have been much at all – and it certainly wasn’t from me.
Still, I wasn’t sure if God really put it on my heart, but in a situation like this, I would rather obey what I believed to be God than end up disobeying God. It was a fairly low-risk scenario, so I went with it without giving it too much thought.
So, at the prayer meeting, I briefly shared with them and asked if they would include me in their prayers. They all prayed very sincere and touching prayers for me, but one in particular caught my ear:
“Lord, I pray that Mrs. Landry would know that there is hope. I believe that You gave me that word – hope – for her. So I pray that Mrs. Landry would have hope.”
There it was again.
After we finished, I showed her my necklace.
Even when I’m tempted to, even when I want to, I can’t escape hope.
I don’t know what this cycle will bring. I don’t know if the injections will work; I don’t know if this cycle will be it . I don’t know if we will have to go all the way to IVF. I don’t know if twins are in the picture.
But I’m getting to the place where the particulars don’t matter that much. There’s hope. “Faith is the substance of things hoped for…”
If I could sum it up in a sentence, it’s this: I have this feeling that it’s not me holding onto Hope; it’s more like Hope holding on to me.
[Photo Credit: The Trevor Project]