What its been like thus far to have our first IUI.

It was turbulent and not at all like I imagined it’d be. Though I never imagined to be going through this at all.

We went in for a routine ultrasound to see how things in my right ovary was progressing, all the nurses and receptionists know me by now and were cheering me on all the way to the ultrasound room. My nurse asked if I would mind a student being in the room and I said no, I really don’t mind who is in here anymore I’ve done this so many times. As my doctor looked around on the screen I could tell he wasn’t going to tell me good news, I tried to just lay back and pretend I hadn’t failed my husband and family once again for having a body who doesn’t do what its supposed to.

My RE said he maybe saw one ruptured follicle on my good side, however I typically ovulate a lot later than this in my cycle so unless I was ovulating at that moment I wasn’t going to this month. The only way to tell this is through a blood draw, I began bawling, making the whole room uncomfortable,  I felt in that moment like a horrible lab experiment. This dear medical student is what infertility looks like, it is not all miracle stories and quick easy fixes, sometimes its a woman wearing a sheet on her lap crying her eyes out.

We went home after the blood work was done, I counted myself defeated. Until a few hours laters when they called back with the progesterone draw it was a 3.4 so I was ovulating and we were going to do the procedure in a few hours. We pulled out of our driveway so excited, I put on my special socks (fishes because we want good swimmers!) we talked about this as if we were so sure that this was the last cycle and in two weeks we’d be showing pictures of a tiny blob to our parents.

Insem Day!

The procedure was pretty simple, Tim collected his sample, it was washed and implanted. I laid almost upside down for ten minutes and I prayed, I prayed that I wouldn’t have to do this any more and that this was finally the thing that was going to work. I got up and we walked to our car it had already been a roller coaster ride of a day and I was told to take it easy for the rest of the day. Tim was wonderful, supportive as always and for the first cycle I felt at peace lucky 7 we proclaimed.

 Lucky Socks.

 I had a progesterone draw the following Tuesday which my RE would have liked to be a 15 but when it came back a 13.9 it wasn’t terrible it just meant I’d have to go on progesterone suppositories. Things still seemed very optimistic and we were elated we told our families because it felt good to have the support. The constant state of feeling like shit was bearable, because all I could think of was how we’d make our announcement, the excitement that this whole thing would be worth it when we seen the flicker of a heartbeat.

On test day the second line never showed up and all the butterflies died.

When I’ve read other women struggling through infertility’s posts they always have such strong positive things to say when things don’t work out.

I don’t. I don’t know what to say. I feel absolutely lost.

I slept through most of the day and when I wasn’t sleeping I was crying. In the quite moment through the last few days all I can do is cry. For the first time instead of thinking “Okay well we’ll get ‘em next time.” I have thought, “What if it doesn’t happen?” I thought what do people do when you have to think about what your life will be like without children. You spend your whole life basing goals off of what your adult life will be like and for me I thought all things would mesh themselves around me being a parent. 

Now I have to think, who will I be if I’m never a mother? My lip quivers and my eyes water each time I’ve made myself think of the possibility.

I know there are women who are childless and lead happy productive lives, I know that being childless isn’t a death sentence. 

However, it feels like the idea of never being a mother takes the quality of my life and completely diminishes it. Like you have your plate and you fill it with things throughout your life but there will be this enormous empty section that even when you focus on the other parts, in the corner of your eye you’ll see it. 

In everything you are, that empty space will be there.

I’m sorry there is no upbeat we’ll get ‘em next time line. 

For now there is just a overwhelming sadness.  

Ultrasounds, Pills and Sharps Containers. Oh My!

Tomorrow we have our first mid-cycle ultrasound for our first IUI, and I'm terrified.

We'll cover everything leading up to that first. We had a follow up appointment with our RE who started out the visit with saying " I don't know why you're not pregnant yet." With weighing the options between IUI and IVF the three of us decided that IUI was a practical choice, if I ovulate from the tube that isn't blocked we have just as much chance as a healthy couple. So with that we're here hoping that my right ovary puts out this month.

I took a month off in order to give my body a break and it felt good not to have to down a fist full of pills throughout each day. It was sad, because I felt like I was wasting an entire cycle and realistically you only get 12 chances a year.

Our baseline ultrasound went swimmingly and I should be optimistic, I want to be however when I was sent the package of needles and medicine it made my heart sink. What if I do all this and I have nothing to show for it?

I hate needles, I hate the idea of having my husband give me shots in order to successfully carry a child. However when I glimpse at the baby aisle in Target, or see my husband playing with a friends baby I know that its all worth it.

I don't know what tomorrow will bring, but hopefully we see one or two follicle on the right side, then my night will end with my husband playing nurse and shooting me up. Should I write that in the baby book?

The Good. The Bad. The Ugly.

When I started writing this blog I envisioned myself pouring every gory detail, unapologetically being bluntly honest about every endeavor, I just couldn't. As with every type of hardship, no amount of clever word play ever really justifies the immense pool of emotion that you're constantly treading.

Here is a recap of the last three cycles.

Previously before we started seeing an RE (Reproductive Endocrinologist)  we had gone through a few tests, a surgery and three cycles of Clomid with my OBGYN, that did nothing but land me in the ER and give me a pretty serious cyst. Following that my OBGYN immediately said he no longer felt comfortable or confident treating me and suggested we visit their fertility clinic.

After six weeks of different tests and procedures with our RE we had our diagnosis and he gave us our course of action, we felt amazingly optimistic and excited. Honestly so much so that I caved and agreed we could buy a few baby things like my husband has wanted to for quite some time, I felt like I wouldn't look foolish doing it we'd finally be pregnant in a cycle or two.

The first cycle, I was so sure... It didn't happen. I couldn't sleep I'd wake up constantly crying. Try harder I thought, I'll do more research, pull out at all the stops the second cycle will work.

The second cycle, I was methodical, diligent and persist. I had been having lunch with a friend, talking about possibilities and plans for my child... Later that day it didn't happen.

The thing with all this is you have two days to get over it and move on to the next cycle, like you're an animal, more poking, prodding and pills. There isn't a lot of time to decide what to do when a cycle doesn't work, you're supposed to believe that, that is going to be THE cycle. So when you're for sure not pregnant two days later you're already back in the office for more testing and meds to prep for the next chance. You're no sooner grieving the loss of another missed chance and you're on your back chasing the next chance.

Its not this beautiful time in your life, you don't go to your appointments skipping, you half glance at your wonderful receptionist as she apologetically nods, yes she knows you're in for your third go and you only get three chance with each type of treatment.

You only get three chances.

In this method of treatment, we've used all of ours up with nothing to show for it.

Our third was the hardest on me. They found another cyst in my blocked tube and I was tired of doing this. It is technically my sixth medicated cycle, and I'm tired of feeling sick at the end of this cycle I will have throughout the day be taking nine pills, I have to set alarms to remind me there are so many.

You experience a lot of weird side effects, while still having to remain a functional adult, inside I'm a hot fucking mess (literally and figuratively) my joints hurt, I sweat like a pig in 50 degree weather, I'm dizzy, horrendous mood swings and I cry at the drop of a hat.

I have to say I'm okay though.  I shouldn't complain, this isn't life or death, many women live happy lives never having children.

I know that with each cycle that doesn't work, I'm not dying much as it feels like I am. As much as I can't breath or imagine having to face the next day with the reality it didn't work again, that my body doesn't work. In the grand scheme of things this is not the end of the world. Ton's of people have it far worse and I should consider myself lucky.

Except I am not them & they are not me. If their happiness is greater than mine it doesn't mean I can't be happy. Just as if their sadness is greater then mine, it doesn't mean I'm not allowed to be sad.

This feels like the end of the world to me. I am sad, underneath the knowledge of knowing that in the foreseeable future I will wake up and life will go on... there is this monumental disconsolate.

I'd be a terrible liar if I said I felt anything more optimistic than ambivalence as of late. Thats the truth that a lot of people don't want to or feel like they can't share. Like every moment of every day I'm supposed to plaster this big fake smile on my face and say that none of this has affected me.

If you're reading this looking for the up beat optimistic poster child for infertility I am not it. For the most part this process is ugly, you make the best of it because you have to by some stretch try to continue on a normal life for your sanities sake. However its something thats constantly there with you, in your every quiet moment it is all you want to think about most of the time, in one capacity or another. You're devoting all your faith, energy, time and money into it. This is not a fucking hobby, you can't devote part-time to it, your whole life is centered around medications and doctor's appointments.

Infertility is not a choice, it is a disease. Just because my disease will not physically kill me, seeking treatment should not be considered a privilege. Wanting to bring a chid into this world and making it my life's goal is not selfish.

I am not just another pathetic childless woman who is nasty and bitter.

I am not sharing this because I want anyone to feel bad for me.

Part of this writing is for me. For me to look back on and see how far I've come, even when its ugly and raw, it is real.

Most of this writing is to break stereotypes and misconceptions.

I've learned a lot of about myself during this journey. When I used to get so jealous, I'd think these people were so ungrateful if they only knew how many people wish they were in their position. It was naive of me, it made me stop to think of all the things I took for granted, all the opportunities I had been given that other people pray for. I've gotten a lot better at counting my own blessings instead of other peoples.

I've stopped comparing myself or my situations to others, I own my advantages and disadvantages they are no more or no less than that of others around me.

I wouldn't choose this, however I know that I've learned so much from it that I will carry with me the rest of my life. I know that nothing I endure is by accident and God has a purpose for all of it, as much as I want to be in control of this situation, I can't. I am not in control, and that is okay.

This post came off sad and angry, because through this I have been.

However I have also been blessed with moments of insane happiness, friends and family that have given me unwavering support and an unspeakably sympathetic husband who has been my rock through these last few cycles.

We have a What's Next appointment in a few weeks, and I don't know where we'll go from here but I am at peace with this and ready for anything.

Nope, I'm not pregnant. Thank you for asking.

First cycle with Letrozol.

This has been a cycle of awesome positives. My thyroid is a million times better and the Metformin seems to be doing its thing as well. I even ovulated!

Nope. Not Pregnant. Please even if you mean well. DO NOT ASK ME IF I AM PREGNANT.  

This was actually a really hard cycle because I’m on so many new medications and we had so many positive labs and signs. I don’t usually bank on signs but I did this month and after many, many negative pee-sticks you’d think I’d be almost caviler about it. I wasn’t, this time I bawled my eyes out on and off the whole day. I didn’t leave the house, I ate junk I shouldn’t have and I cried until my eyes hurt. 

I had made it a rule to not buy any baby things until we were in our second trimester because we have never gotten to that point. However both my husband and I caved, he bought me a beautiful Coach diaper bag. We had joked for years that because it had taken us so long I was going to get a Coach diaper bag because I deserved it. I got it and as soon as he handed it to me I felt guilty. I hadn’t earned this yet, what if this cycle didn’t work and we’d have this really expensive bag that was useless. How could I go in my closet and look at it each day knowing I have no one to fill it for. 

Then we got a call from our clinic that I finally ovulated and we were ecstatic! It was almost as good as seeing that second pink line, all the days I had spent absolutely sick now seemed totally worth it. We almost told our families, but I wanted to wait because I hated the idea of having to then tell them, "No, sorry not this time." I however broke my own rules and got attached to the idea that this was finally the cycle. I bought a few onesies and things, I got attached and I never let myself do that, I honestly now feel kind of silly for doing so. 

What has this cycle been like? I’ve been sick, morning noon or night, sick. I want to eat the things I want and I can’t, I was to go out and do what ever I want and I can’t. I have to be extra mindful of what I eat because on my new meds I have trouble keeping things down. The upside is I’m less of a crazy bitch on Letrozole than I was on Clomid, the side effects are not any where near as bad. However the Metformin makes up for this by making me indescribably sick. 

We’re looking at the possibility of injectables and trigger shots this next cycle. Nothing says I love you quite like shooting your wife in the ass with an inch and a half needle every day.  It will be okay, I’ll wake up in a few days and be less resentful and emotional, for now I’m being honest in writing this as I promised myself I would be. I am hurt, I don’t know why my body doesn’t do what its supposed to and its not for lack of trying. 

On the plus side, its been beautiful out this week, we’ve made leaps and bounds improvements in my body and hormone levels. I have a phenomenal support system and I haven’t hurt anyone yet.

So back to the lab for invasive needles and probes and we’re back to square one. Which is further than we’ve ever been and I know God has a plan for us. Its not If there will be a baby Wilson, its when there will be a baby Wilson & baby Wilson already has a bad ass Coach bag thanks to future-dad Wilson.

Thank you Mr. Wilson for being the most supportive and sensitive future-dad ever. Going through this makes me see how much you love me and how much I love you and how something that would ruin most marriages has made ours stronger. Plus you’re cute and that helps.   

Test results are in, in the case of Karrie and Tim: You are NOT terribly infertile!

I put off writing these because I think they’ll get easier. When I first thought about writing these blogs I thought it would fine, beneficial even, a way to keep my far away loved ones informed and to be able to make the subject less taboo.

Truth is, its never easy writing any of this down. I sit and think about what I should honestly say and what I’m comfortable saying and they almost never are exclusive ideas. 

The truth is I’m scared the further we get into this, when possibilities start arising and God forbid complications, I will have to share those. I may have to post some short coming or terrible occurrence and then people will know. People will be able to see how this isn’t always a journey of success and I wont pretend like it is. 

However I’d love to after over 4 years be able to at some point exclaim, FINALLY. Finally happened. Thats the idea right?

I honestly exist in this perpetual fear of hope and the fear of the loss of it. I am always hopeful, as many women in my position are, I am attune to my body, every single suggestive symptom brings this profound sense of hope. Then I talk myself down because along with an unfruitful hope comes this crushing regret that I let myself get so worked up in the first place. I think (in my fucked up way of doing things) that I need to give myself a dose of reality and not be so hopeful. Its silly and counterproductive but I don’t know how else to manage my expectations at times. I want to hope, I do hope, the realist in me gives me every reason to doubt myself. However if this has taught me anything, it has taught me that even if I’m wrong, in the moments of hope, if I didn’t have them, those fleeting butterflies of hope. I don’t know if I could honestly manage this. All I do is hope.

Which leads us into the real reason behind this post. Our results and initial plan!

Without pulling up my chart and going over specific levels and covering material a different post has already covered. Our RE said aside from the few hormonal levels he wanted to see change he was very optimistic about us becoming parents and is starting on Letrozole. The awesome news is this is my second on time- natural cycle in I can’t honestly tell you when, which if you’re TTC is a huge deal. Things for the first time in a long time are looking so hopeful and I just need to not talk myself out of the positive vibes.

Along side our medication regimen they handed us a baby dancing sheet… Nothing say’s “Come get it, big boy” like a calendar. This is sure to spice up our marriage and only further proves that absolutely nothing intimate remains private between you, your partner and your RE. 

For Valentine’s Day my husband is going to be blessed with a synthetically hormonal bitch. Again another notion of added spice to our love life, hot flashes, mood swings and calendar servicing. The Fifty Shades of Crazy Hormonal Bitch Wife: Staring Karrie and her 20 personalities brought to you by: Letrizole! 

If you see my husband in tears with a Target bag full of chocolate and Cheetos, shaking with a gleam of fear in his eyes. Console him, buy him a beer and tell him that all of this craziness will be worth it when we’re spending sleepless nights with a tiny human.

Plus how scary can his 5’1 wife possibly be?

Pretty damn scary, when on fertility drugs. Poor, poor husband.  

Heres to hoping this cycle works!! We're like one failed cycle away from carrying our dogs around in Tulas... I'm kind of not even joking. 

I could absolutely drive myself mad reading other infertility blogs. Not because these women are at all offending but I am terrified, going through all the initial testing and not finding out the plan for a few weeks I find myself trying to find optimism and yet preparing myself for other possibilities. 

The last of the testing was a Hysterosalpingogram or HSG aside from surgeries and D&Cs it has been the most invasive in our journey. Though our tech was a peach and we adore our doctor I couldn’t help but feel so damn angry during the whole thing. Mostly because I was too proud to admit I was terrified, its easier to say you’re angry than it is to lay under an x-ray machine crying because I know theres something wrong with me, but to what degree?  

It was a bitter sweet day because the morning before our procedure my husband received a call that everything on his end is amazing. After my test I found out one of my tubes is blocked and though it doesn’t seem to bother my doctor and he is pleased that I have a functioning one… I can’t help but cry as I sulk into the bathroom wiping away the evidence from the procedure this is how infertility leaves you, sore and confused. All I’m left with is time until our next appointment and the internet in which to look up every single possibility, oh and a cookie. I come back from the bathroom greeted with a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie from our tech. I can’t say that, that makes any of this easier, but her kind smile and a warm cookie certainly don’t make things worse. It is small gestures like this that have made this process easier. 

I could plaster this post with statistics and figures of possibilities, however that isn’t the point we’re at yet.

This is where we're at:

Medications, during the days that followed testing I received an influx of calls which led to an three separate pharmacy visits. I find her noticeable extensions, slightly off kilter fake-eyelashes and outgrown acrylic nails somewhat unnerving. Like at any moment cheesy music is going to come over the intercom and I am going to be whisked away from a very mature scene. Alas she only explains to me the side effects of this new medication, which if I have these side effects with my other medications I should be very concerned. Oh well, I now have a thug mentality in all of this: Get pregnant or die trying. Just kidding, I of course have the upmost confidence in my doctors ability to not kill me. (haha) However some medications can't be mixed in a certain amount of time with others, some you eat with, some you don't. I feel like my day is starting to revolve around what time I take my meds, and I'm not even on the hardcore regimen. 

I wish I had something more to say, something meaningful and inspiring but currently we're in limbo and its awful. I want to be excited and part of me thinks well maybe if we adjust a few levels here and there we'll be pregnant in no time, I should start picking out paint colors for the baby's room. Then the other part of me thinks what if its like those other women from the blogs, what if our only option is $12,500. IVF. Which you only need 20% down with two years of monthly payments totaling more than my mortgage.

Oh but my research has reveled that eating pineapple makes your uterus stickier and you should totally eat it while doing IVF. Sure, its that easy eat the pineapple, get knocked up.

Appointment 1

The world does not stop for anyone's personal tragedy much as we'd sometimes like it to. 

First day of official testing. 4 vials of blood and one container of disgusting orange sugar water. They list off the tests in which they plan to do but my fear of needles inhibits my ability to listen. Though honestly I don't even flinch anymore, I say fear because before this needles terrified me but now this is just blood draw I don't know, 25?  The sugar water is the worst, I considerate on the framed picture in front of me in hopes of not tossing all up. 

Onto ultrasound and half way through the machine stops working... You can totally take the prob out while trouble-shooting, I don't mind. 

After 20ish minutes and a handful of people coming in and out I notice my right butt-cheek was kind of exposed. Too late to care now, about 6 people seen my butt-cheek, I have no shame. 

The doctor comes back in and I can't really understand what he's saying but I do get to see the cool cyst Clomid gifted me. "Oh you want to have a baby? Nope, here's a cyst." Clomid has been the soup nazi of infertility thus far, no soup for you! 

I get to come back down stairs to wait out my time in between blood work. Nauseous and crampy as I smell all the wonderful food I can't touch for the next hour and a half. 

My husband comes gingerly down from his appointment. It is then that I decide since the only thing he'll have to endure through all this is already done and well it's not like it was particularly hard... He will forever have poop-duty during our child rearing years.

When asked to comment on his experience he said the 60 year old receptionist asking him when the last time he ejaculated was, a bit off putting... He also commented on the tasteful Playboys and art work of the room and how you wouldn't believe how many articles are actually in a Playboy.

*Note to any husband who will read this: Do not tell your hormonal wife, who already feels gross and unattractive being up in the stir-ups with someone probing her in front of you... Also constantly poked from other various methods. Don't tell her what you do in that room or what you think about. Nothing good will come of it. I promise. 

This is process is exceedingly hard on a marriage, it will test you at every angle. In the moment it's hard not to be upset about little things, it's really hard to empathize with your spouse when you have to watch them going through stuff on the side lines.

However synthetic hormones and various procedures will undoubtedly turn your wife into this crazy monster bitch. It's not our fault, totally honest moment, the fact that we're poked and prodded and put through the wringer while you only have to masturbate... Is a little unfair.

We love you. You bring us Chipotle and chocolate and rub our back in the middle of the night. You turn the heat and fan up and down 20 times during our hot flashes and you don't mind horribly when we have a melt down over the butter being too cold to spread on toast.

While your husband may only have to um jerk-off for science... He also has to deal with you, and you will be this crazy bitch and this is the universes way of rewarding him for putting up with your crazy ass.

Thank you dear husband for being so supportive when you've wanted to run far, far away from me. 

Still unless you're telling me how gorgeous you think I am in stir-ups, do not tell me your inspiration for testing. I will hurt you.

It's easy to joke about but in all seriousness, you two will be the only ones who ever truly understand the emotional toll this all takes. Be kind, and patience because if you're anything like my husband and I we have two different coping and conflict resolution styles and that can be a challenge in it of itself. However it may be my body going through all this but it's hard on him too, he's invested too. He wants this just as badly as I do and would gladly do the testing part if he could.

I see a lot of women write about how amazing it is to see how your husband loves your child. I can't wait for that.

However in the mean time, it's amazing to see how much my husband loves me unconditionally through all this, even on Clomid. 

How did we get here? Well long story short through 4.5 years of trying, experiencing losses, a few drs, surgery, 3 rounds of Clomid and a lot of complications lead us to a recommendation to a Fertility clinic.

Why did we hold off on coming here? Misinformation on the process of what your insurance will cover, mostly. One thing during all of this I've learned and you will too is that you have to know your insurance plan forwards and backwards. Thankfully I have an amazing friend who works in insurance who has helped me understand my plan and before our initial appointment helped me check with CPT codes what was covered.

Really you have to. Without getting into it too severely, basically some insurance companies and people for that matter view infertility as a choice. (You don't NEED a baby to live so getting pregnant is deemed a privilege and not a right) There for there are aspects your insurance may not cover and with the consultation alone costing $466, that is something you'll need to consider.

My body doesn't do what a woman's body should. There I said it. The almost sole biological reason women exist, our body's main job... and my body just can't seem to get and or stay pregnant. It's devastating, humiliating and maddening.  We'll cover self-loathing in some other post. 

For now we'll cover our first day with our fertility clinic:

I have to giggle because the clinic is in this almost secret passage away from the other hospital and clinic areas. However as soon as the elevator brings us up we're greeted by possibly the nicest receptionist and this makes a world of difference. 

It's quiet and devoid of children (no pun intended) on our welcome letter, it specifically asked me not bring any children in the clinic if at all possible. Seeing that our children have four legs and a tail it wasn't difficult, however to not have to see a woman screaming at her 4 children, pregnant with her 5th was refreshing. This certainly did not feel like my OBs office.

Because my OBs office is in the same building all my previous tests and procedures are already in the system and it saves me from filling out the 5 page packet. Infertility (as I understand with pregnancy) will leave you devoid of extreme modesty, once you've gotten to the clinic point you will have shared every hairy detail of your journey with more drs and nurses than one person should ever encounter and you'll almost be able to recite it verbatim, almost.

We sit in the waiting room and it's almost surreal, what twenty-five year old ends up here, I thought this only happened to other people? It's empty at first until we see an older couple in their forties and I think, that's who goes through this, older people.

No. Age while being a contributing factor to complications in conceiving does not determine whether or not you'll have complications. There are lots of twenty-somethings in the same boat... However no one really says that when you're young and trying to conceive that you might have a lot of complications. No one tells you any of this because infertility is still so taboo to talk about. It's something you hear that only affects other people and when you hear stories, you thank God it's not you and move on. This is something Id like to in my life time, and with these entries like to see change. There are probably a lot of people in your life that have dealt with it but no one talks about it. Likes this huge ugly secret that you're not allowed to admit to. Fuck that. I refuse to be ashamed of something I have no control in and that I'm working on. Nor should anyone. 

A lovely nurse calls us in a conference room where she goes over all of our history. As she reads off losses, procedures and tests I almost feel sick. I hate having to look at all that's against us and all the ways we've tried that haven't worked.

Then our doctor comes in, looks through our charts and is enthusiastic in his thick accent about the possibilities. He has the MY chart, right? Then he says he's almost certain that I've been misdiagnosed and we're doing this whole panel of tests.  I'll trade sunny optimism for lots of uncomfortable testing. I'd do anything at this point to conceive successfully so sure why not sign me up! 

First up various blood work, glucose test and ultrasound for me. Semen analysis for hubby. 

I have to giggle, up to this point his role has been strictly supportive. So the look on his face as the doctor explained his testing was priceless.

Jerking off for science, any 15 year old boy would be ecstatic. Time to channel your inner 15 year old boy, I offered to knock on the door and ask him if he was okay in there to really liven up the experience. He just smirked.

At the start of all this my OB had to all but pry my knees apart I was mortified at the idea. Now I've had so many tests and procedures... You want to bring the entire 3rd floor in here plus med-students? Sure why not. 

Lastly before we leave with more optimism than I've felt in months, the finance department comes in to cover costs. While it may seem insensitive I'm grateful that had I not had the forethought to look into this before. We come to find out they went over our insurance plan coverage for us. 

All in all pretty painless, we will however see what these next upcoming appointment bring :)

Introduction Post

I weighed the idea of starting a blog heavily, sharing something so personal and making it public for anyone to read. Then I decided "Fuck it." I am horribly disappointed in the complete lack of public knowledge regarding infertility and societal shaming of the people who face it.

Although this isn't anything original and I am not some special case, there are many women and couples who have, are and will go through the processes my husband and I are. This is my take on the experience, in this I plan to document our journey with our local fertility clinic and what ever comes to mind. I'm not an expert, however I wish in the beginning someone would have brought the possibility of infertility to my attention, and if nothing else I hope to shed some light on the subject in general. You know in my own crass, vulgar and quirky way. :)