After all the waiting, this was the month that we would start our fertility treatment. The doctor had recommended we start with IUI or intrauterine insemination, which is basically where they place the sperm as close to the fallopian tubes as they can, at the same time as you ovulate. I was nervous and excited. I had to inject myself with hormones to manage my ovulation and then have daily ultrasounds and blood work to see how the egg follicles were doing. It’s a good job I don’t mind needles! But what would these hormones do to me? I didn’t have a good relationship with the contraceptive pill – it made me super cranky! So here I was, voluntarily injecting myself with high dose hormones to improve our chance of conceiving.
We started the injections on Father’s Day which felt quite symbolic. Despite taking over my life for a week (be at the fertility clinic every morning, inject myself at the same time every evening, make sure the drugs are kept cool, but take them out of the fridge 30 minutes before injection) it was interesting. I saw my egg follicles grow, both in number and size. It was nice to have hope.
On the Sunday I had another scan and then had to inject myself with cetrotide, a drug that prevents premature ovulation. This one actually hurt and I had a slight reaction so was sore, itchy and felt quite unwell all through church! And then the doctor called. Somehow I had surged way too early. This isn’t supposed to happen and my egg follicles were way too small. There was no point in proceeding this cycle. Disappointment set in. And doubt – maybe this was why we’re not getting pregnant? I’m ovulating before the eggs are mature enough. It’s my fault. And frustration – shouldn’t the doctor have seen this coming? Couldn’t I have taken the other drug earlier? All this time and expense wasted. Then hope – if that’s the reason, then we can control this and it should all be OK. Maybe our next cycle could make all the difference?