First IUI

If I thought a lot of blood tests and ultrasounds were needed when I was on Clomid, an IUI demands more than I imagined. Although as time passes, I am slowly getting more and more okay with the new demands. I am feeling able to cope with whatever the clinic asks of me. I have finally got the reality in my head that if I want a baby, I have to do whatever it takes to heal and get pregnant.

We get to the clinic and Chris goes into a room alone to give his sperm sample while I read magazines in the waiting room. I thinking how separate my husband and I are at this time, when normally we would be together.

About a half hour later, I am escorted into a room for the IUI. I know that normally husbands are present during this procedure, but I asked that Chris not to be there during this time.
Sometimes during this process, I get angry at Chris for no reason at all, because it is easy to want to blame someone and put my anger on a target, and most often, my husband is my favorite target.

Sometimes, I find I all too easily to pin my stress, fear and anger on him—it is your fault, his fault, not my fault, and so during this procedure, I want to be clear of these negative emotions. With strangers, I will not get so emotional, won’t give in to the anger so easily, will force myself to stay a bit more positive.

I am so nervous. A technician named Carol is there with a nurse named Melissa. They insert a speculum and screw it in tight. I am not accustomed to this. It hurts and makes me feel trapped. Carol sees my fear and asks if I want to hold her hand. I do and it does help. Carol talks to me. She asks me questions to distract me and somehow I get through it.

The nurse removes the speculum, and tries a smaller speculum so it won’t hurt me so badly. I so appreciate her gentle and extra effort.

Knowing that now my cycles will be timed by the clinic and I will be doing IUI’s exactly when my body is ready and fertile is a huge relief. Pregnancy shouldn’t be too far behind.

I return tomorrow for one more IUI. It won’t be long now…


Dancing To Fertility Book

A Meeting with Dr. P

Chris and I enter Dr. P’s office prepared for battle. I have typed out all my reasons for wanting an IUI. I speak very slowly and seriously, anticipating denial and objection. It takes oh, about three minutes, for Dr. P. to say yes, of course, moving on to IUI’s is fine. He shakes our hands, thanks us, instructs me to call on Day One of my next cycle, and in five minutes, we are done.

We both leave feeling relieved. We actually laugh a bit, feeling slightly silly that we expected such objection from him. Obviously, asking for an IUI is no big deal. He instructs me to continue to take Clomid and call on day one of my next cycle.


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Rocky and Me

My treatment is not progressing the way I would like. It is has been a year since I started infertility treatments, with still no results.

So… I am marching… marching around and around my living room, to the theme song “Rocky.”

I am doing this to psyche myself up to ask my doctor, Dr. P to start doing IUI’s each cycle.

Time is passing and I feel panicky that I need them to do something more to increase my chances of getting pregnant.

A few months ago, I was a lot more relaxed about this—but now I am wondering: why am I not pregnant yet even though I have been taking Clomid for almost four months and my polyp was removed? Why am I still not pregnant?

I am so worried that Dr. P is going to refuse my request.
I’ve heard of people being kept on the same medications, doing the same procedures, for years without result, and I don’t want to fall into that trap. I need an IUI.

Medication alone won’t get me pregnant.

What if he says no? What if he feels it is too soon to move on to another level of treatment?

I play the theme song to ‘Rocky’ almost everyday on the CD player in my living room. I love this song. The beat, the tempo, bring me up to a victorious place, where even a loser like me can win.

I kind of feel like I am Rocky right now.

I put on the CD and I start marching around: trying hard now…trying hard now…I am trying hard now. Its so hard now…The drums beat…the trumphets announce a person is trying harder than they ever dreamed they could….

Give me a chance, Dr. P. Please give me a chance.

Getting strong now…Moving on now…Getting strong now…and the music starts to sound hopeful..like this man/me can climb this mountain, scale the wall, hit this victory…

I listen to the song over and over again. I march around my living room, picturing my ovaries turning, a baby sliding out, Dr. P saying yes to my request.

I listen and I march around the living room, my own homemade motivation clinic.

I have to be strong…strong enough to ask…to demand…to push…The
medicine is not enough…I need more assistance…

Will my insurance cover an IUI?

What if Dr. P thinks I don’t need to do this?

What if he says no?

Trying hard now…

Then what…what are my chances then?

Getting strong now…getting strong now…

I feel like such a loser right now, a faceless,
anonymous zero, and he is the almighty and powerful doctor who has the power to decide my future.

Come on try

I need an IUI…and he needs to okay it.

I march some more, around my couch, my coffee table, up and down the living room, around the table one more time.

It is raining out. I feel ridiculous, but something inside me is changing. I’m pumped! The music moves me. It gives me hope, makes me imagine that like Rocky, a big zero like me can somehow end up a winner.

Getting strong now

I imagine my baby. I see my ovaries turning and babies coming out.

I march.

I let the beat of victory pulsate through my tired sad, body.

My baby, my baby, my baby…I am a warrior setting out to battle and the music beats strong….

Come on try now…

The music is my coach.

Will I take the right turn in the road? Will I say the right words, act the right way, have the right insurance, to make Dr. P do this?

I march for strength. I march because I need to be stronger than the doctor. I march for power because I have to make him listen to me.

Flying high now

I listen over and over again to this song, knowing that it is up to me to start directing the course of my treatments.

If he says no, I have to fight for my rights.

If he says no, I have to convince him. Stomp, demand, shout if I have to.

I’ve sat passively by for too long and it is getting me nowhere.

I need an IUI: I know it, can feel it. I need advanced help.

What I am doing now is leading me nowhere.

I need them to time my cycles, do everything to up my chances. I need help.

The music plays on and I am reminded that Rocky wins.

The music plays on and I don’t know the outcome for me.

A baby, a baby, a baby….

This is my training ground. I am gearing up for a hefty battle. I am beat up, bloodied, and not a reigning champ by any means.

Around and around my living room I go, marching, walking, imagining myself victorious–ha!

I pump myself up, imagine Dr. P saying yes and me getting what I want.

I picture my ovaries churning around and around, like the wheels in an old mill, and babies coming out.

I march some more.

My baby….There is a point in the song where the music gains momentum.. where you can actually feel the hero rising to the occasion, stepping towards the exact moment where victory and defeat split in a fork in the road, and somehow the right road is taken leading to victory.

Will I take the right turn in the road?

I see my ovaries turning, churning, children jumping out of them. I see children..holding hands with one another…

Come on fly now…flying high now…Come on, fly…Fly…Fly….


Dancing To Fertility Book

A Few Days Later

Now that a few days have passed, I understand a bit more clearly where my father was coming from when he said ‘can’t we just have a nice day.’ He was excited to have us over for a visit and he wanted enjoy a good time. No dramatics. Just a quiet enjoyable dinner with his family.

He probably doesn’t understand what the big deal is about having kids, especially since he only had me and what I have been to him is mostly trouble and upset. It must be very difficult for a logical man like my father to have a daughter like me–dramatic, sensitive, super emotional, always ready to launch into an emotional tirade about this or that.

Normally, my father is an incredibly loving man, but perhaps this time, he just didn’t feel like dealing with my issues (trust me, over the years I have had a lot of them.) Maybe for once he wanted things to be easy, pleasant, simple. I can’t say I blame him. Easy, pleasant and simple are words that do not in any way describe me.

I know he meant no harm. Still..I’ll get over it. He’s my Dad. He calls and apologies. A very nice apology. I accept and we make up.

But I meant it when I said this will be the last December I ever experience without a child in my life.


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A Month Later…

A month has passed, and I’m back to have this thing put in my vagina to prepare for tomorrow’s polyp removal.

It is so uncomfortable. Actually it hurt really bad. Tonight, I laid in bed and Chris rubbed my back until I went to sleep. This is so uncomfortable and awlful.

The most upsetting part of this procedure is the idea of going under anesthesia. I almost didn’t want the operation because the whole anesthesia thing is frightening to me. I probably drove everyone crazy today asking about a million questions about anesthesia and the dangers of it. I talked to the anesthesiologist and he explained that now they insert a tube in your throat so they always know whether you are breathing or not, when in times past, they didn’t have that precaution. That eased my fears a lot, because I remember all the horror stories about people going under anesthesia and never coming out.

The procedure turned out not to be bad at all. When I woke up, I barely felt sore.

Actually, I felt pretty good after the operation, except it was
extremely boring to lay in the ugly recovery room waiting to be sent home. The room was gray, with metal pipes on the ceiling, and it looked like something left over from World War II. When we got home, Leah was waiting to greet me.

I am excited because maybe that polyp was my trouble all along–the hidden reason I was not getting pregnant. Maybe I will get pregnant next month! Good thing I came to this clinic or I would have never known about this polyp. Next month I can start on a new cycle. Maybe pregnancy is close behind.


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I Have Polyps

All the tests have yielded one explanation thus far for my not getting pregnant: I have a polyp on my left ovary.

This is good news—finally some type of answer.

Last night, I went to the clinic to have some type of thing put in my vagina to prepare me for the operation…but when they found out I had a bad flu, the whole procedure was cancelled and rescheduled. I feel a bit relieved.


Dancing To Fertility Book