It was three years ago on June 16th that I conceived my BG upon my 6th IUI (intrauterine insemination). It was a “hail mary” attempt, as I had not planned to have an IUI that cycle. According to my RE, I had cysts on my ovaries and likely wouldn’t ovulate anyway (due to massive amounts of fertility drugs–I’m talking 400iu of Gonal-F, which is an IVF dose). But I decided to go see my OBGYN, Dr. Angel, and have him take a look mid-cycle to see what I was dealing with. And what we saw was one perfect follicle (no cysts) getting ready to ovulate.
And this fire was LIT inside me, that I had to try this month after all. I didn’t think it would work–truly I didn’t–but I could not stand the thought of not trying.
Of course Mr. MLACS was 3,000 miles away working. So I did the only sensible thing–I told him to ditch work and bring his ass home to impregnate me. I was 110% serious. He offered to fly me to him but that would have cost like $2,000 and I said I would rather put that money toward IVF (because again, I did not think this was going to work). We argued. We fought. We both cried.
I had another option, but I didn’t want to consider it. I had a vile of frozen sperm “on file” at the RE’s office. But he. (the RE) was such a f*cking pompous prick to us after our 5th IUI, that I did not ever want to set foot in his office again. However, my desire to “try” this cycle trumped my desire to punch the RE in his face. So without monitoring, I simply waited until I got a “smiley face” on the CBD ovulation predictor–this happened on a Sunday. And first thing Monday morning I called the RE’s office and “ordered” my husband’s thawed sperm as one might order a mcmuffin at mcdonald’s. The receptionist balked but offered to check with the RE (who was on vacation). And luckily, I was given the “green light” to come in for an IUI at 11am. I was glad the RE wasn’t there and his nurse unceremoniously inseminated me. I didn’t even lay there or put my legs up like I normally would–the moment she left the room I pulled my pants on and got the hell outta there.
During the TWW (two week wait between ovulation and menstruation) I ate what I wanted, exercised vigorously and drank a lot of wine at a wedding–things I wouldn’t normally do after an IUI. This is NOT to say that it worked because I “just stopped trying”–that is bullsh*t and don’t ever suggest that to a couple who is struggling to get pregnant. But it is to demonstrate how little faith I had that I was pregnant. I was sure I wasn’t–every other month I swore I was pregnant but this time I didn’t bother. I was busy researching IVF clinics.
But I actually was pregnant–finally–a year after my 2nd miscarriage and so many infertility drugs and needles and vaginal ultrasounds and fights with Mr. MLACS and worry and TEARS…so many tears…
So June 16th is one of the best days of my life, because that is (without a doubt) the day I conceived my BG.