I realized on the way home last night that August has been a big month for Scott and I. It was August 2001 that we decided, on our first weekend trip together, that we wanted to get married and have children some day. In August of 2002, he decided to ask his mother the ring he later gave me when he proposed (it was a gift from his grandmother to his mother on her wedding day).
In August of 2004, as our first anniversary approached we spent weeks discussing whether we should participate in his families’ globe trotting or save our money and vacation time for the baby we hoped to have in 2005 (we chose stay home). All the conversations boiled down to Paris or day care and I chose day care. I wanted a child more than I wanted to see or do anything, including a house (which was his first choice).
In August of 2005, I called my OB/GYN in tears to ask for help. We’d been charting and using OPKs since January of that year and no matter what we did (Pre-seed, Robitussin, you name it we tried it), I was still not pregnant and every month I spotted for three days before my period. She took mercy on me and referred to an RE.
In August of last year, I had a bad injectables cycle. It started bad when on CD3 I only had 5, yes only 5, antral follicles. I had been nervous about the count for months as it dwindled, from a high of 20, for no apparent reason. That cycle I hit the wall and cried uncle. I was done with IUIs and knew it was time to move on to IVF. My favorite NP agreed despite months of reassuring me that it was not cause for concern. She said with a count that low, I had months to get it done before I ran out of time. Months. I cried every day that August as we consulted three IVF docs and poured over our records and begged someone to help us sort out how we went from unexplained, “no problem getting us pregnant,” “worried about multiples,” to “you may have to consider an egg donor.” I was freaking the fuck out.
Two of the docs we consulted had kind words for us and calmed both of us down. One said the antral counts were wrong (he checked) and we had at least a year before we needed to come back. Another said he wasn’t convinced I couldn’t conceive on my own and that I should follow his prescription (lose weight, take baby aspirin and a b-complex supplement) and see him in 6 months if I wasn’t pregnant. Six months came and went and we didn’t go see him. I was terrified. We were broke and couldn’t afford IVF. We waited and waited and waited.
And then of course there is this August. My insurance changed to offer some coverage for IVF. It felt like we were starting over. Like the slate was clean. Like the excitement was back. I felt happy and hopeful and satisfied. All of that before we made our recent, oh so exciting discovery.
As for the beta, I haven’t received those results yet. I’m sure they are ready but I am not ready to hear them. I have a follow-up scheduled for Thursday and we decided to get the results of both tests on Friday. I’m taking progesterone suppositories, which I started on my own after one little spot on Saturday night. Seemed like a good idea. They were still good and I didn’t want this to go away while I waited to see a doc. The OB I saw Tuesday agreed and gave the thumbs up on continuing. I still feel pregnant (sleepy, aching boobs, nausea) but I know that could be from the suppositories. I've taken them 10 times before and never felt like this so I've decided to consider it a good sign.
So Friday. I really will post my betas. I swear.