adventures in trying to get (and stay) knocked up

Those of you who know me, know that the only thing in life that I really want, is to be a mom.  I was born to be a mother.  In fact, I literally tried to get pregnant at age 5 (of course not understanding the mechanics of how one actually gets pregnant).  I have begged my husband since our wedding day to get me pregnant. When he finally agreed that we could start trying, I imagined that it would "just happen."  It did not.

The story leading up to trying to get and stay pregnant is long.  So I will just do a quick update and then continue to add updates as they happen.  I was first referred to an OBGYN specialist (who also happens to be a dear friend).  He ordered a series of tests to try to figure out what could be going on in my body.  The first step was a semen analysis, which came back normal.  I need to backtrack to tell this story.  Pablo and I arrived at the hospital and walked up to the lab with the cup given to him for collection.  Pablo then said to the lab technician, "I need to make a deposit.  Do you have a hot nurse and a closet somewhere?"  To which the technician replied, "Usually you collect your sample at home and then bring it here.  But there's a bathroom you can go to."  So I waited outside the bathroom door while my good sport of a husband honorably filled his cup.

After the semen analysis came back normal, I was scheduled for an HSG, where my OBGYN basically does an x-ray of my fallopian tubes.  He shoots dye into my body (and yes, it hurts like a bi***), in order to see that my tubes do not have any blockages.  The dye ran through my tubes with no problems, which indicated that I had no blockages in my tubes that would prevent the sperm from meeting my egg.

Following the HSG, my OBGYN prescribes Clomid to help extend the length of my too short luteal phase (the length between ovulation and the beginning of the next cycle).  I did not get pregnant the first month on Clomid.  I did get pregnant the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th month on Clomid.  Each pregnancy ended in miscarriage shortly after finding out.  The first miscarriage took the wind out of me.  We found out we were pregnant on Christmas day and were absolutely thrilled.  I went to my mom's house with the pregnancy test in hand, at which point we all jumped up and down screaming and laughing.  My grandparents arrived and I said, "Grandma, I'm pregnant!"  She hugged me and we cried.  Then my grandpa wanted to say a prayer for the baby.  I prayed and cried, so thankful for this child that I had wanted so desperately, for so long.

The following day, we left for a two week trip to Venezuela.  There, I did everything right: no alcohol, of course, no unpasteurized cheese or juice, getting up to walk every hour on the plane--constantly super careful.  Pablo was extremely protective of me.  He was constantly holding my hand, and telling me things that I couldn't do (such as climb a palm tree, go down a water slide, and play soccer).  In fact, he wouldn't even let me sit nearby when watching a soccer game, for fear that the ball would land directly onto baby.  It was all very funny and sweet.

But the same day we returned, I started bleeding.  We went to the emergency room, where they performed an ultrasound.  We had lost the baby.  I collapsed, folding inward inside of myself.  Completely lost.

The next 2 miscarriages were hard, but they did not undo me, like the first one.  I had a wall up from the second I found out I was pregnant.  The first time I was pregnant, I constantly rubbed my belly and talked to the baby.  The next 2 times, I was completely detached.  I wanted to protect myself from falling in love with this child and dreaming of who this child would become--only to lose it.

After the 3rd miscarriage, I made an appointment with a fertility specialist.  The first appointment was just a consultation--answering lots of questions.

Yesterday I went in for an ultrasound.  My dear friend, Denise went with me, for which I was so incredibly grateful.  The ultrasound revealed two large cysts, one on each ovary.  They were so big that the Dr. could not tell whether I had ovulated this cycle because he could not see behind them.  So he took me off of the Clomid so that the cysts could resolve.  So now we are kind of in pause mode.  I have to have another cycle where my body gets out the kinks (because supposedly the first cycle off of Clomid is not a normal cycle).  Then the following cycle, he wants to perform another ultrasound to see what my body is doing on its own.  From there, we will come up with a game plan.

So that's where we are right now.  Trying to be patient.