It's my party and I'll cry if I want to.

Hey. It's me again. Writing because I feel the need to write, but not really knowing where I'm going to go with this. So. Read it if you want... or not.

*Sigh.*

I'm in one of those "really don't give two shits about anything because my reality is absolutely consuming me" type of moods. Ya feel me? Maybe you've been there before for your own reasons. It's a mood where you KNOW for a fact that your problems are not the worst case scenario and that they are so small compared to things that other people face in the world... but you also know that it's okay to sulk it the shitness that is your own reality.

Not forever. Not even for a long time. But for now.

Because dammit sometimes it's good for your mental health to just feel sorry for yourself and have a pity party and then get over it.

So you're cordially invited to my party. Welcome.

I'd like to use this post to give an update on our journey considering it's been a few weeks since I've posted. However, Joe & I have decided together that although we believe wholeheartedly in the education of this topic and the fact that infertility needs to be talked about more, there are some personal details of our journey that we are going to keep to ourselves and not share on this public of a platform.

With that said, we are happy to discuss details privately with those we love or with those on their own infertility journey needing support. I can't stress this enough- if you are going through this as well, please do not go through it alone. Reach out. We would love to talk.

As most of you know, I was cleared by my OBGYN to pursue treatment for infertility back in December. I was SO excited.

FINALLY a breakthrough, I thought.

I immediately called the RE (Reproductive Endocrinologist) to schedule an appointment. They were so hopeful and said they could get me in... in February. After waiting 12 months, another two felt like an absolute eternity. But we had no other choice.

February arrived and we met our doctor- who is AMAZING by the way (shoutout to Dr. Patel at the Center For Reproductive Medicine. She is my GIRL). From there, we entered the diagnostic stage of our journey. This meant...

For Joe:

3 Vials of blood

2 Male Analysis'

1 Appointment with a Urologist

For me:

34 Vials of blood

2 Internal Ultrasounds

2 Appointments with a Hematologist

With this, we were placed on a cocktail of vitamins leading up to our follow-up appointment... another 2 months later. It was about this time that I realized I likely would not be giving birth in the year 2020. That was a hard pill to swallow considering we started trying in 2018. All of a sudden it felt like time was a pile of sand in my hands that was disappearing from my grasp faster than I could even try to keep it there.

Enter Friday, April 3rd- our followup appointment. It was a great day. And our appointment, though virtual thanks to COVID19, went swimmingly. Counts looked good across the board (with the exception of my Vitamin D which was strangely dangerously low so she sent me for an immediate re-draw at the conclusion of our meeting) and we were approved to move forward with a treatment plan!!

THANK YOU JESUS!

We made plans for an IUI (Intrauterine Insemination) on our next cycle. There was a lotttt, and I mean a LOTTT of hoops we needed to jump through in order to make it happen though, including paperwork signed in front of a notary. And in COVID19 times, we knew that would be tough. But I expected that the the first day of my next cycle would begin the following Wednesday, so I figured I'd get everything set on Monday and Tuesday so that we'd be ready to call the doctor on Wednesday and schedule my first checkup of my new cycle.

It was a great plan...

Until my cycle started on Monday morning. Not Wednesday. Which meant I needed to:

A) Get the results of my vitamin D test back because the doctor said she wouldn't administer treatment to anyone with a level under 30 (my original level was 18.2).

B) Find a notary willing to sign our paperwork via Facetime.

C) Send all of our paperwork over.

All before the office closed at 3pm.

So I kicked it into game mode. Because let's face it- I didn't wait this long to have some stupid paperwork stop me. Magically, I got everything turned in by noon. (Shoutout to the magic of the internet for finding a FaceTime-able notary in a pinch. Technology is cool.)

After waiting for what felt like an eternity- but was really about 2 hours- I received notification that my vitamin D test results were back. My level?

29.72

I saw the number and almost lost it before reading the rest of the email to discover that despite my level being just shy of her cutoff, she had made the decision to allow us to proceed!

WE WERE APPROVED!!!! IT WAS HAPPENING!!! FINALLY!!

Talk about an emotional moment. Knowing we were finally going to be able to start pursuing treatment after all this time. 16 months later. Finally a breakthrough. What a relief.

And so the IUI process began.

Over the course of the next two weeks, I went for 3 internal ultrasounds and 2 blood draws. I was prescribed hormones- which caused a massive mood swing in the first 15 hours, steroids -which caused my stomach to become a bottomless pit that cannot feel full (not ideal for quarantine times by the way), and a trigger shot- to be administered 2 nights before the procedure.

I would like to pause here and say

WOMEN

ARE

FREAKING

AMAZING.

Anyways, I gave myself the trigger shot on Saturday, April 18th. All went well. Minor side effects the next day, but overall everything was good.

(Here's a badass picture of me doing things I thought I was too afraid to do until I proved to myself that I could do them.)

And then we arrive at today. April 20th. IUI day.

My husband's 31st birthday.

He went first thing in the morning and I was scheduled at 11:45am. At 10:45, I received the call that after 16 months of waiting, jumping through hoops in record time earlier in the month, 2 weeks of meds, and stabbing myself in the stomach on Saturday night...

...our IUI had been cancelled.

Remember that marathon/basketball hoop analogy from one of my previous blog posts? The ball was in the air this time. It was a perfect shot, on it's way into the net. But a gust of wind came up and took the ball.

A few people in my inner circle have asked how I'm feeling throughout the day today and the best way I can describe it is anger. But frustrated at the same time because I feel like I'm trying to find something to point my anger towards... and there's no definitive thing that I can be angry at. It's like the emotion exists within me, but it's a mouse in a maze that can't figure out what direction to go in.

Even though it didn't, I'm still very grateful that this was even potentially going to happen. With the impacts of the Coronavirus, there are millions of couples across the country who aren't even allowed to pursue treatment right now, or whose IVF cycles had to be completely put on pause. Although our doctor is not conducting IVF treatments either, she is still doing IUIs. And we are so grateful for even the ability to plan for one right now.

But the heartbreak is stinging pretty strong this time regardless.

It's also pretty coincidental that this week is National Infertility Awareness Week. It's because of that that I've decided to share our story tonight. I still know of so many people struggling in secret and it absolutely breaks my heart.

So if you are reading this right now and going through your own infertility journey, please hear me when I say this: I see you. I get you. I hear you. I am you.

You are not alone.

Thank you for coming to my pity party. Please take a favor at the door on your way out.