More Dispatches from the Clomid Train; or, My Underachieving Ovaries and Me

After getting my follie-centered hopes up at Sunday's appointment, today's was a rough fall back to earth. I've got two follies on my left ovary (a 17mmer and a 13mmer) but I suspect that only the larger one is in play. There's nothing but a giant cyst on my right ovary which the doctor said has apparently been there a long time-- in fact, I think the same doctor noticed this cyst back during monitoring in November. And my lining blows. It's at an impressively awful 5.9.

I have to go back tomorrow morning for my trigger shot in the middle of a blizzard. No way I can drive, so I'll have to hope the subways are running. IUI will follow on Thursday.

I admit, I'm bummed. I thought 150 mg of Clomid would get us a number of follies to write home about. I'm not sure why, but my ovaries appear to absolutely hate this drug. At least I'll never have to take it again after this cycle. I'm sick of the headaches and the emotional turmoil and the thin-ass lining. Gonal-f has to be better, it just has to.

I've been telling myself I'm detached from this cycle. I've been convincing myself that I'm focused on my orals studying and my novel writing and that babies can take a mental backseat for the next six or so months. I'm disappointed enough today to suspect that none of that is true. But I am going to try very hard the next few weeks to focus on other, more fulfilling parts of my life than this one. And I'm going to try to forget about the tough conversations we'll be having with Dr. W next week if IUI #3 doesn't work.

Emotions; or, The Motions

IUI #2 officially starts tonight when I pop my first CD 3 Clomid. I'm optimistic that this will get me an earlier ovulation than last month, maybe more than the two follies I had for IUI #1, and...well, beyond that, I'm not sure what to expect. I kind of feel like last month was our month, to be honest (though I know I felt utterly differently during that two-week wait). I had just had the HSG with all its famed conception-enhancements. And from what I understand, additional IUIs beyond the first have diminishing returns for women who ovulate without assistance. Though of course, I know plenty of bloggies who conceived on their second and third and fourth IUIs and beyond.

I don't really know what I'm saying. This is all happening so quickly. I'm still coming to terms with last month's chemical pregnancy and all the hideous fears it has raised and now we're suddenly moving into another cycle, another try, and I truthfully can't see it working out. I can't see us getting off that easy.

Ah, well. Once more unto the breach.

This morning I also had my blood drawn for the RPL panel. Whoo boy. They weren't kidding. Those were an awful lot of vials of my blood being bagged up and sent off. Coupled with my continuing period, I'm surprised I had enough blood left to continue breathing and moving and, you know, living. I think I did a pretty good job with it, if I say so myself. The phlebotomist was lovely, didn't leave a bruise or anything, and she distracted me with chat about Twilight (she's a big fan) and Harry Potter (we both are). Several times I felt my hands and lips start to tingle and go numb, but Lawyer Guy squeezed my fingers and the nurse slapped a cold, moist towel on my forehead and I managed to avoid passing out. Some apple juice and peanut M&Ms (sigh) later, I was ready to go back out into the world.

The results should come trickling in over the next two weeks. I was so glad to have the blood draw over that I forgot to worry about the results. I have to remind myself that knowledge is good, even of bad things. Whatever is wrong with us--if there is something wrong-- is already there and these tests didn't actually change anything.

My brilliant plan to spend a day feeling sorry for myself and then move on appeared to be working a treat until last night. I got manicures in the afternoon with my real life IF friend in the neighborhood, and then Lawyer Guy and I spent the evening cooking up a fall feast together: fancy spaghetti and turkey meatballs from him, butternut squash soup and baby arugula with roasted squash and an apple cider vinaigrette from me. We really had a lovely time together, which is why I was so shocked when I sat in front of the tv last night, glass of wine in hand, and suddenly felt so very, very sad. The kind of sad that fills your pores and weighs down your bones and hurts all over, from your scalp to your toenails. Maybe it was the be-costumed babies all over facebook, but I hurt so much I wanted to claw my heart out of my chest just to feel relief. I actually took out my Bible, which I haven't read in years (dare I say decades?), and read all of Lamentations in bed before burying my face in the pillow and crying.

I feel like I've been going through the motions today: blood test and prescription pick-up and therapy and walk the dog and grade some papers and lesson plan for tomorrow. I don't know what this cycle will bring, and I'm afraid to think too much about it. I don't know when I'll feel better about the chemical, and I'd rather not think too closely about that either. One foot down, and then the next. Pet my dog and take a shower. Hope each day's a little better than the one before. Hope I've got enough in me to survive when it's not.

Patients and Patience; or, In Which I Become Yet Another Clomid Victim

I've been riding high the past week, so I suppose some sort of crash was inevitable. This crash is small and recent and nowhere in the vicinity of the dark, sad pit I felt trapped in for much of the summer. It's more of a go-kart upset than a 747 falling from the sky. Nevertheless, my exuberant optimism and hope of the past five days has definitely dwindled to a more depressing (and probably more realistic) level.

I have two follies developing on my right ovary, both at 14mm. Dr Wonderful said I was responding "perfectly" to the Clomid and that I will probably trigger at my next monitoring appointment on Sunday morning, IUI to follow on Monday (Tuesday at the very latest). This is all marching along quite swimmingly: Lawyer Guy has off on Monday for Columbus Day, so the IUI appointment will cause no problems at all if we can manage to do it then. And my experience with Clomid has been easy and uncomplicated. No mood swings, no hot flashes, no cysts (yet). Nothing but the occasional fleeting headache and a crampy twinge or two in my ovaries.

So what's the problem? you ask. Why have I gone from blissfully imagining bringing my twins (hello, two follies! Of course I'll have twins!) to my sister's wedding next summer to sighing on the subway as I contemplate starting this whole messy process over again next cycle?

In a word, I have fallen prey to the evil Lining-Devouring Monster that is Clomid. My beautiful 12-13 mm lining is only 5-something mm. I thought I was immune, but not even my overactive uterus can overcome Clomid's death rays. Sigh. Grumble. Moan.

I must point out that Dr. Wonderful did not appear at all concerned about my lining. She didn't mention it other than in an off-hand way as she was tallying up the stats during the ultrasound. In fact, I asked her about it after she finished the u/s and she gave me her opinion that, although Clomid does lead to thinner lining, it still increases the chance of pregnancy. Plus, I suppose there's a chance my lining could improve over the weekend with more red raspberry leaf tea. And there's the salient fact that all my months of perfect, plump, enviable lining did not get me pregnant, so who's to say something a little slimmer can't get the job done.

Still, it's a bit disheartening, especially to someone who's faced a lot more downs than ups in this babychase. I've resisted the urge to google anything about thin lining and pregnancy rates because I want to relinquish control over this to my doctor--that's why we're working with her, after all. It's just that it would be so amazing to be that lucky girl who gets pregnant on her first treatment, her first month of Clomid, and now I don't think it can happen.

Dr. Wonderful said to take a pregnancy test two weeks after the insemination. That will be the first hpt I've taken since last October. And, most likely, the first negative test I'll see since the last pre-pregnant one I took in June 2009. It's probably good that my hopes are tempered and my expectations diminished, given that I will need to pick myself up after seeing that one line.

Dr Wonderful said when she walked into the exam room that I won't be a patient of hers for long. But maybe to prepare me for disappointment, she told me before she left that I need to have patience during this process, because it will work for me even if it takes a little while. I said that patience is one thing I've learned over the past year, which are fairly grand words. I hope I can live up to them.