The Reason I Am So Emotionally Fragile: Ranting About My Problems

I've complained about my difficulties with fertility about a million times already on this blog, and about a billion more times in real life, but the actual lack of baby is just one component to this whole issue and today I intend to vent about the complexities of the treatment process that I have undergone so far.

Beginning in June of 2020, I began seeking medical intervention for my infertility issues. The first step was blood testing for me and to get a semen analysis done for my husband to make sure there weren't issues on his end. This should have been pretty simple, and my blood test was fine. So we drove to a hospital in a town about forty minutes away and my husband did his thing. That hospital then failed to send his sample in a timely fashion and it was tossed out. So we had to drive back to attempt it again about a month or so later, once they confessed their mistake. The results of the second sample were not very encouraging, but we didn't have expert analysis. So my husband scheduled a time to consult with a urologist who specializes in male fertility. Another semen analysis and several hour+ long drives to their office later... and my husband was told that he should be totally capable of impregnating me. This semen analysis process took over three months and involved a lot of unnecessary heartbreak based on inaccurate readings and mishandled procedures.

Since his results came back okay, I began taking Clomid for three months in an attempt to promote ovulation (which, btw, was never an issue for me). This obviously didn't work. My OBGYN wanted to up the dosage for an additional three months, but I refused and in January of 2021 I began seeing a Reproductive Endocrinologist, whose office was also over an hour away. The first step, after our initial consultation which involved more blood tests, was to have an HSG to determine if my fallopian tubes were clear. The results of this very painful procedure were inconclusive. Maybe my left tube is blocked? So they scheduled a saline sonogram to see if they could determine the cause of the blockage. So after another month, I had another procedure. They couldn't see any reason for a blockage. So the conclusion is that my left fallopian tube may or may not be blocked. There's no way to tell. Great. In case you were curious, those two procedures cost about $2,000 and they gave us basically no information.

Now we were ready to try IUI. Due to COVID-19, the hospital requires a negative COVID test before any procedure. So, I got my next period, called the clinic, and they asked me to get a PCR COVID test. They offer tests at the hospital, but the hospital is over an hour away, so I asked if I could get a PCR test done at the Walgreens in my town instead. The clinic said it was fine as long as the results came back prior to my Cycle Day 3 Baseline Sonogram. The Walgreens website said results could be back in 48 hours, which would be fine for the appointment. I waited in the Walgreens drive thru for about an hour and swabbed my nose. As I handed it back to the pharmacist, he informed me that the results would be ready in two weeks. So I missed my opportunity to have a COVID test in time for the CD3 Sono appointment, right? I called the clinic and told them what happened; I was forced to cancel the appointment and therefore the cycle. Guess what. The test results came back before my appointment time. So I cancelled for no reason.

The next month I just sucked it up and drove over and hour to get the COVID test done. The cycle progressed with multiple sonogram monitoring appointments and then it was time for the IUI. It took them a bit of poking around and pressing on my uncomfortably full bladder to get everything in position. I was ovulating on my left side, which left me feeling less than optimistic. Two weeks later, I got my period. The first cycle was a fail.

The next cycle, I went to a ton of monitoring appointments, and as it turned out, I ovulated while no one was looking. So I didn't get to do an IUI. The next cycle, my bladder was so full during the IUI procedure that I was convinced I would pee on the nurse. And beside that, my husband's count that day was sub par. Even though I was ovulating on the right side, I was pretty pessimistic again. And I was apparently right to be. Because less than two weeks later, I again got my period. The second IUI was also a fail.

I took a month off to visit family and attend a wedding. Though there was still travel stress, it wasn't as bad as driving over an hour to the city multiple times a week for people to poke and prod at my private parts. The experience of having a month off, though I was concerned about losing more time, reinforced just how stressful the whole process had been so far.

Another period and another CD3 monitoring appointment. My follicles grew more quickly this go around, so there were fewer sonogram appointments. But this meant that the trigger shot that I have to take the day or two before the IUI procedure had less time to get to me. Getting the shot shipped to me this time around was a nightmare. It was coming to me with overnight shipping and the day it was scheduled to arrive was the day I needed to take it! I kept an eye on the FedEx tracking and watched as it sat in a facility an hour away with no updates. I called customer service for the pharmacy that mailed it to me. They spoke to FedEx and then told me that the package arrived to the FedEx warehouse too late to make it on a truck for the day. To be clear, it made it to the FedEx center at 1:00pm. I wonder if FedEx understands what overnight mail means. If they understand that refrigerated items should be a priority... Anyway, we left our house immediately and drove over an hour to FedEx to pick up the package in person. It's a good thing we called when we did, otherwise we would not have made it to the FedEx facility before they closed. FedEx could have updated the tracking to inform me of the delay at any time, but they did not. It took me being suspicious and proactive to get my package on time. I gave myself the shot in a Waffle House parking lot, then we drove home. We ate dinner at 9:30.

This morning I had my third and final IUI. I purposely did not drink as much water, even though they ask for a full bladder, because being so full of pee while people push on your tummy and poke at your privates is very miserable. My husband's count looked good. I was ovulating on my right side. Basically, this was pretty much a best case scenario for us. If this IUI doesn't work, then it just ain't happening. I obviously hope it works, but most of all, I'm just ready to be done with all of this.

If you don't understand after reading all that, let me summarize: Being told your husband is infertile just for someone else to turn around and tell you that he's fine is an emotional rollercoaster. Spending thousands of dollars on inconclusive tests is infuriating. Sometimes, the procedures are physically uncomfortable, sometimes they actually hurt. Driving over an hour multiple times a week for people to look at your private parts is stressful, especially when the drive takes place during rush hour traffic. Getting delayed multiple times because of inaccurate information, mishandled procedures, and your own body rebelling against you is a test of patience. Paying thousands of dollars for treatment that ultimately doesn't work defies logic. Everything is out of my control. My life is totally dictated by these appointments. They cause me to miss work. They cause my husband to miss school. And it's too overwhelming. I realized this morning that due to COVID, all the doctors and nurses at the fertility have never seen the bottom half of my face... but they have all seen my butt. I have no dignity.

My feeling today is one of relief. All of this will be over soon, one way or the other, for now. After this month, whether it works or not, I'm going to pursue some counseling. I honestly feel traumatized and grieved and I need some serious mental help after all this. If you're going through fertility treatment, I hope you know you're not alone in your stress and anxiety. You're not being overdramatic. It's hard. Very, very hard.