Moving forward.

Welp. It’s been an eventful two days. Yesterday marked the start of my period (FUCKING FINALLY!), my husband’s 37th birthday, and a meeting with the RE to discuss…everything.

So…it’s a sperm issue. Nothing we didn’t already know. She said given my age and the fact that his counts and quality (HAH) are holding steady, there’s no reason to NOT go ahead with a 3rd cycle should the next transfer fail. It’s really a matter if we can stomach it emotionally and financially. Bright side: 3rd cycle is discounted 50%. So…we could have this going for us. It all boils down to luck and the fact that it’s a numbers game. One of those little fuckers someday is bound to be genetically normal and stick. It’s just up to us to figure out how long we want to wait and what we want to go through for a child this both of ours genetically.

She brought up donor sperm. Whether it be in an IVF cycle with half my husband’s sperm and half donor sperm to confirm our suspicions. Or just straight up IUI with donor sperm. We’ve talked about donor embryos so that I could still experience pregnancy, but donor sperm has never been talked about. And this is where my husband shocked me.

“At this point, I just want to raise a child with her. If there are two parts and we know which part is malfunctioning, you replace that part, right?”

I think I looked at him like he had two heads. I truly thought that he would not want to even discuss it. He just shrugged at me and said “Kids come out not looking like their parents all the time, right?” To her credit, my doctor took it all in stride and agreed. She said “Damn right. You raise that child and it’s yours. No one can take that away from you.”

I won’t bore you with all the details, but we’ve decided to go through with the FET on this cycle with our one remaining embryo. It’s funny and sad at the same time, but I think both of us are kind of checked out on this one. We both know it’s going to fail and we just want to get through it so we can figure out our next step. I start estrace tomorrow and go in for a lining check next Friday the 3rd and will start PIO the next night. If all looks well, the FET is on for Friday the 10th.

I know that sounds…shitty and pessimistic. But it’s kind of freeing in a way. We still have options. Maybe we do another cycle (at 50% off baby!!) and test the donor sperm route with half.

Every time I look at my husband, I want to cry when I realize I may never have a biological child with him. But then I also look at him and realize that I married the most amazing freaking man I’ve ever met.


For the love of god, body.

Day THIRTY FUCKING ONE of the cycle that just won’t end.

I went off the pill in January of 2015 and have been tracking my cycles ever since. I went back through the history and I’ve never had a cycle longer than 29 days (and curiously, that was the cycle after my first egg retrieval). 27 days is probably about 70% of my cycles. A few 26’s and 28’s sprinkled in there. So WHAT THE FUCK body?!

I just took a pregnancy test when I got home from work not too long ago. Big ole negative. I’ve never EVER skipped a period – not before the pill, not in the last 2 years. I’m under a normal amount of stress. No lifestyle changes. So truly, body, BRAVO. You have sunk to new levels of annoyance to me. I have all the impending period doom symptoms. My back has been hurting for like a week now. Cramps and twinges in the uterus region. Bloating like a bitch. But nothing. Not even a spot.

Stupid me starting crying when it came up negative. All day I had convinced myself that this was going to be some freak of nature conception. Like, we would fall into that less than 1% chance (yes, I researched it).

I’m tired, y’all. Next week marks 1 year since we got the results of my husband’s first SA after 1 year of actively trying and realized that pregnancy wasn’t going to be easily achieved. I know in the grand scheme of infertility, 2 years is nothing. But I’m feeling it. I’ve dreamt of being pregnant and having babies my entire life and a year ago, I was so optimistic. I’m just tired. Today proves that I still have some optimism left in me, however misplaced. It also proves that reality is a cruel bitch and she has no issue slapping you in the face when she feels like it.

Oh, hope.

No news, still no progress on figuring out what we’re going to do next. We took the holidays to just pretend none of this is happening. Don’t knock the power of denial, kids.

Do you ever find yourself hoping for what you know is logically never gonna happen? My period should have been here two days ago, or maybe even yesterday, but it’s still holding off. Logically, I know there is literally zero chance that I could be pregnant. I mean, it takes people with 20 million sperm up to a year to procreate and my husband is holding steady at about 400,000 so trust me. I know it ain’t ever gonna happen.

But there’s that STUPID STUPID STUPID part of my brain that whispers “Maybe.” I tell her to shut up, but it’s there. And I know I will probably start my period tomorrow and I will be so irrationally sad and depressed over it. Over this stupid 48 hour window of time where I cling to some hope of a miracle that I know isn’t coming. You’d think after 2 years and 2 clusterfuck rounds of IVF, I’d be more realistic.

I just really hope I’m not the only one that has these weak moments.