It's my birthday and I can cry if I want to!

Sunday was my birthday.  Or so I'm told.  I didn't feel much like celebrating.

I felt pretty terrible about it, too, because my husband and parents went above and beyond to try to make me happy, and none of it really helped clear the fog that's been following me around.  I spent a good bit of the day crying and just moping around.  I took a two hour nap with my dog, which was pretty much the highlight of my day.

I got my period yesterday.  I knew it was coming.  Hello there, 28th year of life and 17th cycle of trying and failing to conceive.  Well, I guess it's technically my 29th year of life, as I have now completed 28 years (since your first year of life is before your first birthday).  Whatever.

My friend who is pregnant had her online video baby shower that day.  I sent her a present, but I knew the week before my bithday that it was just going to be too much for me.  She thankfully understood when I told her that I couldn't handle it.  I had already been trying nearly 10 months when she first started trying.  She's due in January.  I'm happy for her, truly I am, but sometimes it's hard to see underneath how sad I am for myself.  And seeing her pregnancy develop just further emphasizes how much I'm missing out on.

Or seeing our nephew, who is 4 months old.  I could have one of those by now, if we had been luckier.  Heck, I could have an 8 month old at this point if we had gotten lucky on our honeymoon.

I'm just carrying around this gray cloud.  And I know it's dragging me down, but it's just sitting on my shoulders and I can't shake it.  Sometimes it hurts less to ignore it, because when I try to shake it, all I can do is cry.  I know this isn't healthy, and I do want to see a therapist about it.  But because we're moving in 2 weeks, it makes the most sense to get an appointment once we get down to our new home so I can have some continuity of care

Speaking of continuity of care, I called the base hospital to see if their OB/GYN department does IUIs like I had heard some do.  Apparently it doesn't.  Which means I'd get referred to a civilian Reproductive Endocrinologist (RE) anyway.  So I figured out which RE's my insurance covers (for whatever little it will cover at all) and the closest is an hour away.  I called to make an appointment... first appointment is March 17th.  WHAT?!!

My cycles are clockwork, and March 17th would likely CD 1-6 (giving myself some natural wiggle room if I ovulate a day early or late in my next few cycles).  Which means they would still likely require some initial testing before starting treatment, meaning we wouldn't get to do any IUI or meds until the following cycle - which would mean my ovulation that will likely be the beginning of May!  So here I am in mid-December being told the earliest I can probably get any help is in MAY!

I'm devastated.  I'm sobbing.  I tried to be a big girl and not cry on the phone with the receptionist, but I couldn't help it.  I sniffled as I gave her my phone number to put me on the cancellation list.  I even had to repeat a number as I struggled (and failed) to keep my voice from cracking.  I'm struggling to see the screen through my tears right now.

I'm so frustrated and upset and disappointed and angry.  I'm just so so so so sad.

Mind Games

I'm currenting in another 2WW.  For those who aren't hip with the lingo, that means I've ovulated and waiting two weeks before I can take a pregnancy test (aka "two week wait").

Well, I suppose I could take a pregnancy test any time I wanted.  It just would look exactly the same as it's looked every single test for the last 16 cycles - NOT PREGNANT.  It feels like it says this:

But if I want to keep some hope that the cycle may have worked, that I may finally see those second beautiful line that says I'm finally pregnant, I have to wait until at least 10-12 DPO (or Days Past Ovulation).

That's not to say I haven't tested before that.  Like 8 DPO.  Or maybe 6 DPO once when I was desperately and hopeful.  Or maybe twice... at like 5 DPO...

Anyway...

Each cycle, I get my hopes up.  I've tracked symptoms that occur during the 2WW in the hope that I'll be able to look back and say, "Oh yes, that twinge MUST have been implantation cramping!"

This cycle, I realized that every month since my HSG in August, I've had ovulation cramping.  The day after my first positive OPK, I have been feeling strong cramps on one side or the other, presumably from my ovary that is releasing that cycle's egg.  It never happened before my HSG, so now I'm wondering what that means.  While my HSG showed my tubes are clear, perhaps there was some cobwebs that were cleared out in the process?  Or maybe the vitamins I've been taking have made me ovulate stronger, bigger eggs?

I also noticed that approximately 4-5 DPO, I feel cramping similar to my CD 1 cramps (when I first start my period).  Every month, I hope it's implantation cramping.  Every month, I'm disappointed.

So when I noticed it was a pattern, I worried it might mean endometriosis (and really, it might.  I can't rule that out).  That little fear grew exponentially in my head into major endometriosis issues that would result in implantation issues, and that we'd waste tens of thousands on IVF and never get pregnant.  Quite a little stroll for my imagination to take me on, huh?

I did manage to find some research that progesterone can cause cramps, and the cramping does come on with severely sore boobs, which is normal progesterone symptoms (during the 2WW, the body is supposed to experience a drop in estrogen and rise in progesterone if the hormones and reproductive system are functioning correctly).  So now I'm pretty sure that it's just normal progesterone issues.

But it got me thinking... what crazy mind games do I play with myself over all this?  Well before I had a need to worry about infertility, I was worried.  Was it truly premonition that something really wasn't working, or was I that girl who I now roll my eyes at - someone who has been trying exactly three months and going:

I'm pretty sure I uttered those exact words.  I know I have recently.

So I play mind games with myself.  If I don't have any alcohol this month, I'll get pregnant.  And then I don't, and so I drink a whole bottle of wine (true story).  If we have sex exactly every other day, and then twice after I get a positive OPK, it'll definitely work.  Except it didn't.  And if my husband takes all these pills, it'll improve his sperm and we'll definitely got pregnant.  We haven't yet, and except for increasing his libido, we don't know if any of it has any impact on his sperm quality.

I worry.  A lot.  I worry that we'll invest tens of thousands of dollars in infertility treatments, suffer months of disappointment and physical discomfort, and have nothing to show for it except an empty bank account.

I get superstitious.  I get super hopeful, even when I know there's no good reason to be hopeful.  I think, "It has to happen eventually!" and then in the very next second, I think, "It will NEVER ever happen!"  I go from complete conviction that it will happen soon, or that I'll at least have enough patience to do a few rounds of medical treatment to finally get pregnant.  Then I'm convinced I can't handle this much longer, that I'll need a long break of not trying to focus on other things if a few treatment cycles don't work.

It's one crazy rollercoaster, and that on its own is exhausting!

Promises I Can't Keep

The holidays are coming up quickly.  Because of all the stuff going on with moving and my husband's training schedule, I barely even noticed it sneaking up on me.  But all of a sudden, it's nearly Thanksgiving!  And I know that I'll blink and it will be Christmas.

There is an awful lot I am thankful for this year, but it is a struggle to not let infertility overshadow all the wonderful things in my life sometimes.  I've got a wonderful marriage, have made some great friends in the last year, got a new car (well, new to me!) late last year and we're about to buy a fabulous house.  We've got a great dog who we love spoiling, our families are generally quite healthy overall.  We've been able to save money.  My brother got engaged to a fabulous girl.  Our nephew was born.

Overall, it's been a good year!  Except this time last year, I was still hoping to get pregnant before Christmas.  And I remember that I took a pregnancy test on the morning of Christmas Eve, which was disappointing.  And I had to deal with period cramps all night on Christmas Eve into Christmas morning, barely sleeping.  I remember promising myself that it would all be okay, because by next Christmas, I would probably be a Mom or at the very least be pregnant.

Yeah, right.

So it's not just that I'm not pregnant - it's that I broke a promise to myself.  I believed so fully that by this time, I'd have a baby or be pregnant.  Because of course, why wouldn't I be?  We're healthy, we're young, my cycles are clockwork regular, we've got a healthy sex life.

And yet, here we are, 12 cycles since last Christmas and 16 cycles total, and no pregnancies.  And a bunch of testing, about $500 in co-insurance costs towards a variety of tests that showed very little in the way of explaining our lack of success.  Sure, we've got some slow swimmers, and they're mostly a bit odd shaped, but there's quite a few of them!  And surely in the past 16 months, one of them would have found an egg?

That broken promise hurts.  I feel like I let myself down.  I got my hopes and expectations up, and now I'm just miserably disappointed.

So this Christmas, I get to deal with infertility.  I have to struggle with the knowledge that I can't so blindly promise myself that by next Christmas, we'll either have a baby or be pregnant.  Because I just don't know.  I don't know exactly what's wrong, I don't know what it will take to fix it, I'm not positive that we can fix it, and I definitely don't know if we can afford to continue trying indefinitely.

Keeping Busy and Getting Lucky

For anyone who has been checking to see if I updated, I apologize for the gap in posting.  I took a few months away from focusing about infertility - we have had a plan to try vitamins, which take awhile to see any potential effect.  Also, we have been in the process of moving, so there was a lot of things to do!

In case anyone needs a distraction from fertility issues, moving is a good option.  Holy cow, does that take up every inch of brain space and physical energy!  Thankfully, this was a military move, so we didn't really have to do much in terms of packing or lifting or carrying.  Which is super good, because my husband wasn't able to help at all.  He was working about 100 hours per week up until a Friday, then had to drive 10 hours up to a temporary duty station for a 9-week training program that started that very next Monday.  I stayed behind to supervise the movers packing and moving our things, then packing up the car with items they wouldn't take (mostly liquids), cleaning up the townhouse and turning the keys over to the landlord (full deposit back - score!).

If that wasn't enough, on that Sunday (two days after he left, the day before he started his training program), I then drove 10 hours away to our new permanent duty station where we'll live for approximately 3 years, starting in late December.  I met with our realtor on Monday - we had spoken on the phone for a few weeks.  We looked at 12 houses on Monday, 7 on Tuesday, and Tuesday evening we put in a competitive offer for our favorite house.  The sellers accepted on Wednesday.

Our Realtor and Lender both told me that they cannot remember anyone ever having it quite this easy.  It all happened so quickly and so easily!  Sometimes people search for months to find something that suits them this well, sometimes people can't find something they like in their budget, sometimes they put offers on several homes before one is accepted.

But we got lucky the first try. Very, very lucky!

So that means....

THIS IS OUR NEW HOME!!!!!

If you thought the buying process stopped when you got an accepted offer, then you're as naive as I was going into this process.  I've been swimming in paperwork ever since!  I flew to meet up with my husband at his temporary duty station on that Friday, and immediately got to work in assembling our loan documentation, setting up the inspection, requesting a septic inspection, arranging the VA appraisal, repair negotiation, etc.  Phew, that's WORK!

Thankfully everything seems to be all set and we should close early next month.  We'll move in as soon as my husband finishes his training program here.  So very excited!

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Now that you're up to date on why I haven't been around in the past two months, I should also say that I've been in a really good mind space about infertility recently.  Some of that is the distraction of all that's been going on, some is exercising and keeping my body healthy, and I think knowing what the problem seems to be (or at the least, what issues we shouldn't have to worry about since we ruled them out by testing) has helped me immensely have greater peace of mind.  I like our vitamin plan for now, as I really still want that unmedicated cycle where we just had sex at the right time and resulting in a positive pregnancy test, and am just not quite ready emotionally to move on to treatment and spend all that money.

As my husband has been on vitamins a bit more than 3 months, I kind of got my hopes up about this cycle.  I know rationally that even if it beefed up his swimmers to Olympic-level from his JV-squad test from August, we'd have at best a 20% chance any given cycle, so it's entirely possible it is helping but just hasn't helped enough yet, or we just didn't get lucky.  But I cried this cycle, and I haven't cried in several months.

I cried too early, too.  I tested on 9 DPO, knowing it wasn't definitive, that there was still a chance even if I got a BFN, but when I saw it, I just kind of broke.  I had gotten my hopes up, and it hurts.  I really wish I would have made a fool of myself by crying too soon and getting a positive HPT a few days later, but really, I'm 13 DPO now and still getting a stark BFN, so we're almost definitely out this cycle.  My period should be here within a day or so.

Now that we've got our home set and we know where we'll be, and I've finished most of the process of buying the house and organizing the move, I have time to research our potential treatment plan.  We've decided to that I should change to the HMO version of the military health insurance on January 1st to maximize our chances of getting infertility treatment mostly paid by the military.  The PPO version is great because I can pick my own doctors and never need a referral, but it seems to have less opportunity to use military treatment facilities for infertility treatment, which is at a significantly reduced cost compared to civilian providers.

What is frustrating to me is that we're getting to the point of spending potentially a lot of money at simply a chance to get pregnant.  With my husband's low motility and borderline morphology being our only issue that has been discovered, IUI or IVF are really our best chances.  And because it doesn't seem to be a significant issue, IUI might be all we need.  And because I'm ovulating normally it seems, we'd really like to do an unmedicated IUI cycle with monitoring to see what my body does throughout a normal cycle without meds, and to minimize our chances of twins (or triplets!).  However, the military policy is to cover any infertility treatment except IUI or IVF.  Meaning, basically, that anything that would potentially help us is going to likely be 100% out of pocket.

And as we're facing spending several thousand at the simple chance of getting pregnant, I'm finding myself getting more mad at others who had it easier.  Not everyone, but there were a few girls in particular who have struck me as mean, nasty people have gotten pregnant very easily.  Often they got lucky on their first cycle of trying.  Why them and not me?!

I can't help but think that maybe we just can't "get lucky" at everything in life.  We've got so many great things going on in our life - we found each other fairly young, we're incredibly happy together and have such a firm foundation of trust and communication, we have our health, we've got fabulous friends, our families are supportive and generally very healthy.  We both have college degrees, my husband has his law degree, he passed the bar exam, he's a Marine Corps Officer, we've got a very comfortable savings, we've got a great financial plan, and we're just about to close on our first home!

I'm going to try to remind myself when I get frustrated and think, "Why them and not me?!" that I have other things going on right now.  And that those women who had it so easy getting pregnant might look at me and think, "Why her and not me?!" for some of the other wonderful things in my life - like my fabulous sexy intelligent badass husband, our supportive and healthy families, our lack of debt (well, except law school debt), our ability to buy a nice home.  And that if this is the biggest challenge I have, I should consider myself lucky in the long run.  Because even if this becomes a much bigger issue, at least I know that my husband and I are on the same page about alternatives (namely, we are both open to all options to have a child).  I know that we'll somehow become parents someday.  And aren't I lucky that I am in that situation?

Trying to remember why I'm lucky (and even why others might envy me - because heck, we infertiles all envy fertiles once in awhile! I'm just going to admit I'm petty sometimes) has helped me feel less distraught that this just simply has not been easy for us.

Infertility Jokes... And Other Not Funny Things

If you found this blog post while Googling "Infertility Jokes" in an attempt to tease someone going through infertilty, to make light of the situation, you might want to reassess your plan.  We all deal with challenging situations differently, and it's entirely possible that the person you want to tell the joke to will find it hilarious and break up the stress of this awful situation.  Or you're looking for yourself, because you find making fun of tough situations a good way to feel better.  In which case, go right ahead.

But for those who know someone struggling with infertility, and you're not sure how their sense of humor rates on the subject yet, please proceed with caution.  Often these jokes not only are NOT funny, they hurt.  And not only do they hurt, they can make a "good day" turn bad pretty quickly. 

One such incident happened yesterday.  While chatting with my Mom on the phone, I mentioned that the 12-year old girl I tutor was being particularly challenging yesterday, and she replied, "And you're sure you want to try this hard for a kid?" 

We weren't talking about infertility at the moment (though she knows all about our struggles and how I feel about it) and it was like a verbal slap in the face.  I literally recoiled as I heard it.

It wasn't a big joke, it wasn't prepared ahead of time.  It was just making light of my situation.  And it's offensive on a lot of levels. 

I know my Mom was just trying to make a joke, that she didn't mean any harm, but I felt it necessary to tell her that I didn't find it funny, and she shouldn't say things like that to me (or anyone else dealing with infertility) again.  She got her feathers a bit ruffled that I had stopped the conversation to point all that out, both of us knowing she intended it as a joke.  Clearly I'm just supposed to laugh and let it go because I know she didn't mean to hurt me.

But it hurts because it's just so wrong. If a cancer patient had a bad day not related to cancer (got yelled at by the boss, fender bender, something like that), would someone satirically say, "Are you sure you want to fight to live after all?"  Absolutely not!

Why do people think things like this are okay to say to someone struggling with infertility?!

I think it's largely because infertility isn't recognized as serious. 

I'm not sure where I stand on whether it is a "disease" - I don't feel like it is, though there are certainly people with diseases that cause infertility.  I do know it is a "condition" - sometimes caused by other medical conditions, sometimes caused by diseases, sometimes genetic issues, vitamin deficiencies, and a myriad of other root causes, including no detectible cause at all.  I do know that it affects your whole life, takes over your brain, tests your friendships, and challenges your emotional strength.

However, the general population seems to view infertility as simply not a concern.  Just adopt!  Or do that IVF thing.  Oh, you're young, be patient, it'll happen!  Stop trying and it'll happen - it's the stress that is keeping you from getting pregnant.  Isn't the world overpopulated enough?

It hurts.  It really does.  Even on a good day, when infertility isn't bothering me and I'm confident it'll happen one day, statements like these can bring me to my knees.

Oh, and you know what else hurts?  When you can't proceed with treatment yet (in our case, because my husband's schedule simply isn't flexible enough right now to allow time for the required blood tests and to schedule appointments around my cycle), and the nurse at the Reproductive Endocrinologist calls to see if you're going to get all the required testing in to be ready to go with your next cycle.  And you tell her that you've decided to put treatment on hold for now, that you're trying vitamins until your husband's schedule gets a bit easier in about 5 months.  And she says, "Ooookay, but you do know, you've got only about a 4% chance on your own each month."

Wow.  Just... wow.  So now you're telling me, if I don't give you over $2000, I basically don't have a snowball's chance in hell of conceiving on my own?  You don't think I don't know that we're fighting an uphill battle already?  And I also know that you're essentially blackmailing me with my future child into giving you money, which basically ensures that I will give that money (if it becomes necessary for that future child to exist) to some other clinic.

Today's a bad day for me, so please don't mind my rambling.  I'm 9 DPO, and I shouldn't have, but I peed on a stick.  I know it's too early to be sure, but it's another BFN and I can't help but feel like it's just inevitable.  This is the 14th cycle that I've peed on a stick and had a BFN.  I know others have fought much longer, but I honestly don't want to fight this fight forever.  I'm not that strong.  It's just not fair.  And I just want my turn, damnit.

Rigging the Lottery

Pregnancy is a miraculous thing.  So many things have to go the right way at the right time to make it possible, and even then you have only a 20-30% chance at best each cycle of getting pregnant.  Even less of having it stick and making it through the entire gestation and being born.  Yet people do it all the time, most without even thinking about how they won the biological lottery.

For those of us struggling with infertility, that lottery has become a numbers game.  We're the crazy caffeinated ladies with the bucket of coins at the slot machines at 4am when most normal people have already taken their winnings and gone to bed, while we are convinced just one more coin will get us the jackpot.  So we don't give up.  One coin after another.

At first it was fun and exciting, knowing the next coin might cause the machine to light up, bells to go off, and the jackpot to come pouring out in a stream of joyful coins.  You'd be so happy, and feel so glad that you won!  It was exciting each time you put a coin in, pulled the lever, waited to see if this would be the lucky turn.  And when you lost, it wasn't a big deal as you might win the next one.

After you've been putting coins in the machine for awhile, you might look up the statistics.  Okay, so at this particular Pregnancy Lottery machine, you've got about a 20% chance each time you pull the lever (or rather, each cycle).  So if you pull it a half dozen times or so, you're bound to win!

Except you don't.  And then you start realizing that 80% of people have already won the lottery after this many coins and you haven't.   And then you start calculating how likely it is that you'll ever win the lottery.  And how likely it is that you'll never win no matter how long you play.

You start to wonder if the machine is broken, so you have the staff come check it out.  You might have a defective machine and the mechanic comes to fix it before you can keep playing.  Or you need a special kind of coin that costs a lot of money to keep playing each turn. Or you might find out that the machine isn't the newest model with all the upgrades, and might just take a few extra turns to get your jackpot.

So once the machine is in more or less working condition, you start getting superstitious and strategic.  Maybe you start putting coins in all the machines, hoping one of them is a winner.  Or you commit to one machine, believing it eventually will have to pay out.  Or you start using only newer coins because maybe the machine can tell the difference.  Or you close your eyes and say a mantra every time before you pull the lever.  Perhaps if you pull the lever a little harder, or at exactly two seconds after you put in the coin, it will work this time.  And did last time not work because you forgot to say the mantra, or is the mantra keeping you from winning?

Eventually those losses start to hurt.  It feels like you have lost personally.  That something is wrong with you, that you're pulling the lever wrong, that maybe you just aren't lucky enough to win the lottery.  You've tried so hard, you've invested so much time and money, you deserve to win.  Damn it, you've earned that win.

Except you haven't.  And you might not ever win.  And that starts to weigh on you, like an anchor hanging around your neck, and it's all you can think about.  So you keep putting coins in, sitting there as dawn breaks, fanatically putting coins into the machine.

And of course, there's your friend who just arrived to the casino, who pulls up to the seat next to you at 6am as you're chugging another Red Bull to keep up the energy to continue.  She's fresh faced from a good night sleep, can't figure out how to put the coin in, doesn't realize you have to pull the lever, and yet still - her first tug on that lever - the bells are going off and the coins are spilling out and she's so happy.  How great for her - her first time!  She must just be naturally good at the Lottery.  Or really lucky.  Or both.  But she doesn't care, because she's convinced it was just "meant to be" for her.

And you just want to slug her right in her pretty exuberant face.

It's not that you aren't happy for her - okay, maybe not much.  But you want to be happy for her, so that counts for something, right?  It's not that you're a hateful selfish person, or at least you didn't used to be.  But after pulling an all nighter, plunking coins into the machines, strategizing about how to win, feeling like you've lost your sanity... why isn't it "meant to be" for you, too?!

So the pretty blonde walks off with her bundle of winnings, patting you on the shoulder and telling you that it will happen eventually, and you're still left sitting there, putting coins in the machine, hoping the next one will be your lucky coin.  Hoping the next pull on the lever will make all this obsession and pain and struggle worth it.

Friends vs. Phonies

I have a friend who went through cancer treatment recently.  She's thankfully in remission now, but she told me that she lost about 2/3 of her friends during the process because they simply weren't there for her when she needed them.

When she first told me that, I thought it sounded harsh - cancer treatment isn't fun, and some people aren't strong enough to be there for someone else through that process.  Taking a step back isn't the worst thing.  What I didn't realize is that when you are going through something truly challenging like cancer treatment, some people start to resent you for your struggles, and those friendships become toxic.

After stepping into the not-so-fun world of infertility, I understand a bit better how she feels.  Also, to take it a step further, I'm so grateful for those friends who have been there for me through everything.  The ones who listen to me as I sob, the ones who hear and understand my fears but can give me hope, the ones who tell me kindly and firmly to step away from Dr. Google, who ask how I'm doing and really want to hear the truth.

I don't need tons of friends - just one friend is enough.  I'm lucky to have several friends, near and far, who have supported me through this.  Everyone deals with grief and fear and emotional struggles differently - for me, I lean on others.  I talk things through.  Things I keep in my own head are much scarier and drag me down much further than things I share with others.  Those who have taken some of the emotional weight off my shoulders have been invaluable to me, and I will forever be grateful.

However, as my friend who battled cancer pointed out, some people are not strong enough to be leaned on.  They like being your friend when you're happy, or when they need you for something, but when you're the one in need of support, you're just not any fun anymore and they don't want to be around.  I have experienced this recently, with two people who I have been close with pushing me away.

It's hard not to feel resentful, to be angry that two women who I have helped through numerous challenges in their lives have chosen to abandon me when I need friends the most.  And it's not simply distancing themselves - these friends have chosen to lash out, talk about me behind my back as if I'm being self-involved, to blow up at me about unrelated things because they can't handle dealing directly with why they are really upset. Anyone who knows me is aware that the one thing I cannot handle is passive aggressive behavior - I have always lived by the motto that if you don't tell me what your problem is, it isn't my job to figure it out.  I always try to be direct, honest, and fair with any issues that I have with someone, and expect the same of those closest to me.

With these two ladies, I answered sobbing phone calls, helped them through numerous issues, including an emotionally abusive relationship, a divorce, job hunts, losing a job, applying to schools, moving, buying a house, long distance relationships, a spouse's deployment, and family issues.  Over the time we've been friends, I've been largely happy - I've been the one supporting them, as I didn't need support.  When I finally need supporting, suddenly I'm an emotional drain and self-involved.

Part of me wants to lash out at them, tell them what I really think (which, I guess, is what this post is about - did I mention that I like to talk out issues rather than bottling them in?)  I am angry, I'm hurt, I'm disappointed by this abandonment and betrayal.  Two people I thought were my friends not only choose not to help me through this, but have chosen to think of my emotional neediness as selfish and draining.

I am choosing, instead of hating these two, to feel bad for them.  To feel sad that they can't know what it is to be a true friend, to be there for someone through the bad times as well as the good.  To feel sad that they won't get me as a friend anymore, because I'm a really good friend to have.  I stick with people through the good AND bad.

And I am choosing to focus on how lucky I am to have the true friends that I do have, the ones who answer my sobbing phone calls and who listen to my fears and help me deal with this challenge, day by day.

So this is what it has come to...

Most people who want to make a baby simply throw away their birth control.  Or for the more devious, poke holes in the condoms.  Seriously, every romance novel I've ever read (and that list ain't short) where the characters have sex just ONCE without a condom inevitably results in pregnancy.  Every.single.time.

So when we stopped using birth control last March because it was making me crazy with mood swings, we figured we had a decent chance of an "oopsie baby" before our September wedding, though we tried to avoid my most fertile time (as dictated by a downloaded period tracking app - which I've since learned is nonsense, but is oddly accurate for my clockwork cycles).  We even had a pregnancy scare in July when I thought my period was late, which turned out that I was simply completely unaware that my cycles could go from 28 days one month to 31 days the next and still be totally normal.

When we decided to actively start trying on our honeymoon, we were sure it would happen right away.  I research everything extensively by nature (a blessing and a curse) so I knew that we had about a 20% chance of getting pregnant each cycle, with 60% of people being pregnant by the end of 6 months.  So when 6 months came and went, I started getting a little nervous, but still... of those who hadn't gotten pregnant yet, about 50% of them would get pregnant in the following 6 months.  Surely we'd be one of those!  We're healthy and young - both under 30 years old, active, we eat healthy, my cycles are clockwork.  He's a Marine, for gosh sakes!  Aren't they incredibly fertile?

Well, those 6 months have come and gone.  We're staring down a week before our first anniversary and no pregnancy.  Several friends have gotten pregnant and given birth, or are just about to, since we started trying.  I've had 12 cycles of actively trying to get pregnant, with no luck.

I started getting nervous around cycle 9.  My husband was convinced it was just bad luck.  He did acquiesce to fertility testing during our 12th cycle, especially as we had had 5 unprotected cycles prior to actually starting to aim for good timing.

My testing all came back normal - they took blood work on Day 3 of my cycle (Day 1 - also called Cycle Day 1, abbreviated as CD 1 - is the first day of a period).  They use that blood work to test several hormones which indicate if my body is responding normally to ovulation.  All normal.  They also do a transvaginal ultrasound at that time - yep, a dildo-cam.  I had 15 antral follicles - a fancy term for the eggs that have started to form.  Every cycle, a bunch of follicles start to form, and then a few become dominant and grow bigger while the rest die off.  Then one (or sometimes two) reach full maturity, and your body lets off a surge of LH (a hormone responsible for triggering ovulation) and your body releases the egg.  That's called ovulation.  They would like to see 8-16 antral follicles, so my number was good.  I don't know exact numbers, but all my blood work was in the normal range.

In addition, they do a test between CD 7-12 (I did it on CD 7) called an HSG.  This is when they insert a catheter into the uterus, fill it with dye, and see via ultrasound if it drips out the ends of the fallopian tubes.  They can see the shape of the uterus, if there's any blockages in the tubes, and often clear the tube of a slight blockage.  Everything appeared normal for me.  I was petrified of this test, as I had heard it was very painful, but it was no worse than a normal pap smear - not something I'd volunteer for, but certainly not worth all the nerves I had leading up to it!

My husband had an easier test compared to the multiple visits, blood tests, dildo-cam, and pumping dye into my uterus - he just had to jerk off into a cup.  They test to see the semen volume per milliliter (count), the movement of the sperm (motility), and the number of sperm that are shaped normally (morphology).  They're also supposed to test to see the pH level and if there are antibodies present that could indicate an infection or an immune response that kills off his own sperm.  His test came back not great - they like to see >20 million for count, and his was 56.4 million.  Not bad, but not rock star quality.  For motility, they like to see 50% forward moving, and his were at 25%.  Not good, but since he's got a normal count, it's not terrible.  Then he's got only 4% normal shaped sperm - under strict guidelines, they like to see 4% at a minimum, so technically he's normal.  And experts debate the importance of morphology in fertility at all.  But it's not good, especially when combined with the sub-par motility.  I don't know the pH or the antibodies, but at this point, there's enough reason to focus on improving what we're working with, especially before we invest more money and time and heartache into fertility treatments.

So this is what it has come to...

While my husband finishes up 6 months of intense military training, we will be putting further medical treatment on hold.  It's too hard to schedule (read: impossible) and now that we know the issue is likely my husband's swimmers, we'd like a chance to improve them naturally.  We weren't exactly surprised by the results - he's working out in extreme heat at least 5 days a week, he's under extreme stress, he isn't eating well, he's been sick, he's drinking frequently, he's exercising excessively.  All things that can result in lower count.  And I likewise have been stressed (4 moves in 12 months isn't exactly easy, as well as getting married, finding a job each place we move, and keeping a positive outlook during the frustrations of trying - and failing - to get pregnant month after month).

So we'll be self-medicating until February.  Did I mention that I research things to death?  Well, I do!  I unleashed my powers on clinical research trials related to vitamins to improve fertility.  I cross-referenced my information with my sister-in-law, who is a pharmacist, to make sure we weren't risking bodily harm from any of these supplements taken together, and my brother's girlfriend, who has extensive experience with homeopathic treatments and works as a medical assistant at an osteopathic center that likes homeopathic remedies. 

Our recipe for the next 6 months:

Me:

• Every day:  
• NatureMade Prenatal Multi +DHA
• Baby aspirin
• CoQ10 (ubiquinol - 200 mg)
• Royal jelly (500 mg)

• Pre-ovulation:  
• Evening Primrose Oil

My Husband:

• Every day:  
• Equate Complete Multivitamin
• Daily Wellness Fertility Blend for Men (2 capsules)
• CoQ10 (ubiquinol - 200 mg)
• Centrum ProNutrients Omega 3 (EPA/DHA Supplement)
• L-Arginine (1000 mg)

So the plan is to do that, try to cut back on alcohol, I'm focusing on exercising a minimum of 4x per week, and if we're not pregnant by February, go back and see the Reproductive Endocrinologist about having my husband's sperm analysis repeated to see if the numbers are better, and testing for hostile cervical mucus.

Fingers crossed this handful of pills every day is all that we need!  I feel like an old lady with her pill box, but I'm excited to see if it works!