No Dice

The last time I wrote seems like a life-time ago. So much has happened yet nothing has changed. Our IUI was not successful. Rich and I made a pact that this would be our last fertility treatment for awhile. I think I have subconsciously avoided writing about it because when I see it here in black and white then it is real.

I spent a day being absolutely mad. There is no other word to describe how I felt. The worst part of it was I didn't have anyone to direct my anger at. Myself? The doctors? God? In truth, it is none of our faults. I found out I wasn't pregnant on a Wednesday morning. I pulled a 7th-grade- girl move and texted Rich. Yep - I texted him to let him no that I was not pregnant. Classy, I know. I just couldn't make the words come out of my mouth. And I didn't say those words (or any variation of those words) until around noon. I had to meet with our interior decorator (no - it's really not like that - she's our builder's wife and she is the one who helps pick out all the inside stuff).

Anyway, we were finalizing paint colors that day. In my mind, the third bedroom was always going to be a nursery. After all, we started this fertility journey almost a year before we even moved out of our old house, so it was a safe bet I'd either have a baby or be pregnant by the time we moved in. I had chosen a cheery yellow color (Despite the fact that every baby website says, "If you have a yellow nursery, your baby won't sleep. Whatever.)


"The only thing we need to change is the color of the third bedroom. It can't be yellow. I don't care what color you paint it, just not yellow." I was barely holding it in at this point.

Amy (the decorator/builder's wife who knew about our treatments since I would sometimes have to excuse myself from meetings to give myself a shot) looked at me and said, "Oh honey, I am so sorry."

Now under normal circumstances, her calling me "honey" would be weird, but that day it was just what I needed.

"It didn't work. I'm not pregnant." There I said it out loud. I'm really not pregnant. No more imagining that maybe the bloating I am feeling isn't due to the hormones I am on-it's an early pregnancy symptom. No more counting weeks to guess my due date. No more listing baby names in my head (because writing it down would surely jinx it). No more hoping. Now, we knew.

Thank God for my mom who let me break down on the phone while Rich went for a run that night. He worries so much about me that I couldn't do that to him again.

Then, I got up in the morning, sat on my daughter's bed and realized I have everything I've ever wanted in life.

"Mama, can we go fwimming (the s-blends are are little tough for her...)?"

Life goes on.

"Yep, let's go. Race ya to the pool!"

Placing Bets

So we went through with the IUI. Our Doctor pretty much told us that this was the perfect set-up and that I only have a 25% chance of getting pregnant anyway. He also said that if we DO get pregnant, it's a 75% chance that it is a "singleton" - that's doctor speak for "one baby." Needless to say, we felt better after hearing those odds and decided to place a bet. And honestly, that is what it feels like right now - like we are trying to beat the odds. It boggles my mind how there is only a 25% chance of pregnancy when he shot that sperm so far into my fallopian tube, I thought the plastic tubey-thing was going to pop right out of my bellybutton!

Rich and I had a long talk about whether or not this is a "God-created" pregnancy or a "man-created" pregnancy. I guess when man has done all that he can and there is still only a 25% chance you will get pregnant; the rest is up to God...

I was soooo crampy after this IUI. Thank God for my mom who had Annessa all day. I went to her house, crawled in her bed, and slept for 3 hours. But, let me make something clear: I am not a wuss when it comes to pain. I mean no one that goes through fertility treatments is: you have daily shots that make your overaries blow up, vaginal ultrasounds 2-3 times a month, a shot in the ass, and it ends with a guy sticking a catheter as far as he can up each fallopian tube. So as far as me complaining about pain - I generally don't. BUT this time it hurt. The procedure literally took my breath away. Then, it didn't help that my wonderful husband was trying to lighten the mood by busting out terrible jokes. It actually hurt to laugh. Plus, I think the real reason I needed a nap was that I was just emotionally drained. I actually cried after it was over - not because of the pain, but because of the emotional let-down.

So now we wait. 14 LLOOONNNGGG days. I am making a promise to this damn blog not to test sooner than next week Friday. I will not. I have been there, done that. No need for anymore false hope.

So in the meantime, I get to enjoy my daughter (who is impressing us with her soccer skills and wakes up every morning asking, "Are we going to Disney World today? Mama, I NEED to see Cinderella. I NEED to give her a hug.") and my husband (who is impressing me with.....umm....his jokes?) who has more character and determination than I will ever have.