I had it all planned out and it was going to be perfect. I quit smoking. I went to weekly fertility acupuncture appointments. My insemination took place the day following Christmas so it was obviously sprinkled with Christmas magic. My sister, who only visits once a year was there for the insemination and so was Gracie, making the experience all the more special. I tracked my ovulation and as you can see in the picture below, the timing seemed to be perfect. I rested with my hips elevated for over an hour and did the other post IUI recommended activities, (of which I will not mention here). I took the damn progesterone suppositories, day and night, and yet it didn’t work. How is it even possible that it didn’t work?
The Scorpio in me wants answers because things aren’t adding up. The non-emotional and more logical side of my brain knows that getting pregnant on a first try is the unicorn of artificial insemination. It’s an urban fertility myth, as in, it happens, but it’s an experience that is reserved for the lucky few. So why am I still so surprised? Why am I so disappointed?
::We can’t leave out the legs in the air pic::
I guess I subconsciously convinced myself that I was super fertile, that I was the unicorn. I really believed that if I did everything “right” it would work and with the encouragement of my mom and wife, (the two most optimistic people on planet Earth), who were both sure that I would get pregnant right away; I started to think so too. Then I took a test on day 5… and another on day 8… then again on days 9 and 11. I got my last BFN this morning, day 14. I guess it took 5 no’s for me to realize that it’s "game over" for this round and it's time to move on.
I get it, but it still sucks. It sucks bad.
I was texting back and forth with my BF around day 10, telling her that I didn’t think it was going to happen this time because every test I took showed a blaring negative in mere seconds. She was, of course, supportive as always. I told her about my phantom symptoms and how my aversion to chicken, matched with my early bedtimes and cramping, convinced me that I was pregnant, but I feared that I wasn’t. We talked about how much hope goes into conceiving but also what a financial risk it is for same sex couples. I hadn’t really thought about that side of things before our chat but once it started to look like it wasn't going to happen, the investment part was also disappointing. She was shocked when I told her that even with insurance, by the time you factor in the purchase of the sperm used in the IUI, the cost of my trigger, the co-pay for my meds and insemination and the ultrasounds (3 in this round), we are talking $800+ for this ONE try. Nearly one thousand dollars for a maybe…
Her response, “No joke! Damn!”
Don’t get me wrong, as a mama I know that the purpose and possible outcome behind this type of investment is worth much, much more than the money spent. Still, it feels like a dagger in an already opened wound.
So here we are… Day 14… BFN. I’ve promised myself that next time I’ll do a few things differently. First, no early testing! It just made me crazy and once I started testing, it’s like I couldn’t stop myself. Second, I need to chill the F out. Not every sensation in the stomach region is an early sign that a baby is growing down there. Third, stay healthy. This time around I took the IUI to mean – eat whatever you want – you might be growing a baby. Fourth, don’t tell everyone you talk to on a regular basis that you’ve been inseminated because guess what, if you get a BFN, you then have to un-tell everyone who is excited and thinking you’re going to get knocked up.
Anyway, what’s done is done and we’re fine. We’re disappointed, but fine. Thankfully, everything we went through with G and our journey to make Grace toughened our skin a bit. I don’t cry as easily and I definitely wasn’t as upset with this initial BFN as compared to our first with Georgia. We’re just trying to think positive thoughts and with forward motion, we march on.
How cute would this picture have been in a BFP post? Alas, that’s just not our story.
Our story is still being written.