So This is What Being Taken Seriously Feels Like. Wow.

I should begin this by stating that I have a research critique and an art chat due tomorrow and I am still blogging. Yesterday was fantastic. I smile just thinking about it. I got up, went to the doctor’s appointment. They gave me a sheet that confirmed what my insurance company had told me when I called, that diagnostic procedures to diagnose infertility were subject to a $500 deductible, and then covered at 50%, while treatments aren’t covered at all. Some friends have been pretty surprised by this, but it is quite standard and I was delighted that my insurance covers anything at all. Infertility, according to the way insurance companies in the U.S. treat it, is a choice, sort of. As in, they are fine if you are diagnosed with it (because yes, it exists), but they don’t think it is worth treatment because having children is a choice. Did you know that? Having children is a choice and if I am unable to do so the traditional way (SEX!), then I am out of luck, because they sure as hell aren’t going to pay anything to help it happen for me. Although, they pay very well for birth control and elective sterilization (tubes tied, vasectomy, or hysterectomy). Anyway, I am still excited that they are going to pay something.


Nurse takes me back, asks some questions, leaves to brief the doctor. Doctor enters with all information. I filled out at least eight pages detailing what I’ve been through on the reproductive road. He clarifies a couple of things (yes, apparently an infection after a D&C is quite rare). He says that there are three things that they need to make sure are functioning so that conception can happen: 1) ovulation (we’re good as long as I am on meds), 2) sperm quality (doc has a copy of the great SA in his hands since his office conducted it), and 3) tubes and uterus (this is where we are going . . .). He says that first we are going to do a sonogram to look at my uterus and ovaries (haven’t I wanted one?) TODAY; then an HSG. An HSG is when they set you under an x-ray machine and the doctor puts dye in your uterus and it should highlight any blockages or scar tissue when it flows through the fallopian tubes. It is the best way to see if there is anything impeding the meet up of sperm and egg. The sonogram was quick (here in blogland, it is done with what is called a dildocam) and my uterus looked good (as did the endometrium). My ovaries looked okay, but the doctor did make the comment that he wasn’t sure if I ovulated this cycle (without meds) because of the way they looked. We are doing the HSG a few days after the next cycle starts. Which shouldn’t interfere with (cue the music . . .)

An IUI. This next cycle we are doing a medicated IUI cycle. IUI stands for intrauterine insemination. Which means that C leaves a donation at the clinic, they wash it (make sure all the sperm have heads and tails), and they put it in the very top of my uterus via catheter through my cervix. That is the easy part. I have five days of a doubled dose of the magic pills (dear lord, help us all), four days of estrogen, a sonogram midcycle to look at the follicles (to see EGGS!), if there are eggs I get a shot of HCG (the pregnancy hormone to stimulate the follicles to release an egg), and the following day we do the insemination. Simple, right? I am so excited. Let me repeat that: I AM SO EXCITED!


There is the chance that it could work. That we could be pregnant. But we are doing something and there is a plan. If this time doesn’t work, we’ll take a couple of months, regroup, pay this cycle off, and save up some money for the next cycle. Because that is what this doctor does: he gets people pregnant.

Now that I am in the day after, I am a little concerned about money. Who saves up a couple thousand to TRY and get pregnant? Guess I shouldn’t have bought that new bag . . . We have made the decision to go for it this cycle.


The only other thing is that I shared, in my excitement, with a few people about what we are doing. Which is fine, because if they care about me, they will be excited too. But one was making fun of me. Could be my fault because I was referring to the process as a date with a turkey baster, but in my defense, no one knows what an IUI and just look at how many words it took to explain it to you all! Anyway, I decided that if he persists in teasing me, that my response will be “Listen, I shared what I did with you because I was excited and I was looking for fellow excitement and possibly some support and encouragement. If you can’t provide any of these, I invite you to shut the hell up and forget I told you anything.” If that doesn’t work, I’m not above beating anybody up.

Which is my way of saying that there is a reason I am sharing intimate details with you. I could use your support and encouragement. Prayers are also very welcome. I want you to understand (even the science of it) and feel free to ask questions. I want you not to judge me (us) for the decisions we have made or that others like us have made. I want you to understand that I don’t need your sympathy and that I would rather you join me in my excitement and possibly my sadness should this attempt fail. You get my drift? I’m not hosting show and tell to be made fun of. Just to educate and revel in the love and possibly (outside chance) to end up pregnant. Fingers crossed. Everybody.