A Baby-Sized Hole

I had a mid-cycle ultrasound today, with not so good news. The previous two cycles that I took 100mg of Clomid, on day 11 I had three follicles, both times around 18mm, 14mm, and 13mm. Today? One. At 12.7mm. Seriously?!

When I pointed out my previous cycles’ numbers, she said that it’s possible this one isn’t even a growing follicle, but rather a cyst left over from the last cycle. Again… Seriously?! It was bad enough just being back in that office, staring at an ultrasound and thinking that the last time I was in there, I was finding out that my baby had stopped growing. But to come out of this appointment with so little hope…

I go back in on Sunday (CD 14) to see if the follicle is growing or if it is indeed a cyst. Even if it is growing, clearly my cycle is screwed up. Is one piddly little follicle enough? Is it even worth trying this time? I’m so depressed… I started reading this book about miscarriage after infertility, which really was more informational than emotionally helpful, but one piece really stuck with me. Couples without infertility often “get over” their miscarriage by getting pregnant again. But what about for those of us that took so long to get pregnant the first time, with the help of fertility specialists and drugs? Without the assurance that it will ever happen again?

There’s another couple we know who got pregnant just a week before we did, and because of their updates, I am constantly bombarded with thoughts of “this is how far along we’d be”, and “that’s what we would be feeling/doing/seeing now”, and that this is the time we’d be finding out the sex of our baby. I don’t begrudge them their long-awaited pregnancy, I just wish we were there too. It’s so unfair.

I was watching the show “Modern Family” tonight, and after the gay couple’s adoption fell through, they were talking about getting a cat. Mitch said, “So basically, you have a baby-sized hole, and you’re trying to stuff a cat into it”. Well, folks, that is what I’ve done this week. We adopted a puppy! She is a Great Dane/Dalmation mix, and deaf. She’s so adorable and cuddly! There were a lot of responsible considerations that we should have given more thought to, but I just felt like I needed some kind of baby. We spent a whole day discussing adopting her, and most of it was spent crying about the fact that she wouldn’t be what we really wanted and couldn’t replace our need for a baby. But she is very cute, and a distraction at the very least.

Depressed

So, I’m forcing myself to post and update all my loyal followers and friends.  While I have been busy, I think the real reason is that I have nothing good to share.  This month, we did everything exactly the same as the cycle I got pregnant, and nothing.  100mg of Clomid, baby aspirin, ultrasound, trigger shot, insemination at 24 and 36 hours after trigger, and the addition of 400mg of Progesterone, and nothing.

We just got back from a wonderful trip to Southern California – Disneyland, California Adventures, Universal Studios, Sea World, and finally a few days in Tahoe.  It was a good distraction while waiting and finding out the bad news, but it was a constant reminder of others’ fertility and plethora of offspring.  It is so hard to keep myself from judging everyone.  Why them?  On TV, people like the “Honey Boo Boo” family?  Unhealthy, overweight, uneducated, and popping out those unhealthy, overweight kids.  Universe, I do not understand your design!  And how is it that so many people (it feels like everyone, at the moment) just get pregnant and Ta Da! they have a baby.  Why do we have to deal with infertility AND miscarriage?  I think we’ve been saddled with more than our fair share here.

I’m feeling depressed, and not just blue, depressed.  I feel alienated from my friends; none of them can understand, and I don’t think many even try.  This whole experience has changed who I am, and I can’t relate to them in their un-complicated lives any more.  I only hate them for it.

Even Michelle doesn’t totally get it.  Certainly, she’s felt the disappointment and sadness, but it’s a little different from my perspective.  I’m the cause of both of our suffering.  The one thing I should be designed to do, and I can’t.  The only thing I ever wanted to be when I grew up was a mom, and I’m failing already.