Dropping the Bomb

Hello Warriors of the Womb!

Yes it is 12:10 am Monday morning and YES I should be asleep. However, I just finished a week of staycation time at home, meaning I got to stay up as late as I want and wake up whenever I wanted, meaning these next few days will suck sleeping wise. However-none of that matters. I have major updates!

Last Thursday I went to see my beloved OB/GYN. And I don’t say that sarcastically. I know a lot of you have had bad experiences with OB/GYN’s trying to help with infertility-but I love mine. He’s always been honest about the limitations of his abilities, but he has tried so many things to help me and we have been working together for almost two years now. I feel a lot of affection towards him and I think the feeling is mutual because on Thursday when he saw me for the first time in three months he came into my exam room and gave me a hug. Guys, I just love him. Anyway, after we exchanged some pleasantries and I was able to tell him that, shockingly, Lupron DIDN’T suck the big one, he asked this million dollar question:

“Do you want to get pregnant soon?”

To which my automatic response, of course, was “Um, yes.”

Except for here is the thing-I thought I had until January! The last time we talked he said that he thought January would be about the right time to give my body lots of time to come off of lupron and start up and get pregnant. Apparently I misunderstood-the last time we talked he thought I’d be pregnant by January-maybe February, because he wants me to start, like, NOW. So here’s what’s up: 12 days of prometrium (I’m on day 3) and then we wait for the period. If the period doesn’t come because I’ve been on Lupron so there may not be much lining to shed then seven days after my last prometrium counts as day one of the cycle, and days 3-7 I’m taking Femara (can we all say a big Hallelujah that I don’t have to take Clomid again?!), and then days 12-16 are intercourse intercourse intercourse. He said that we could have sex as often as 12 hours, because that’s all that most men take to “refill”. I clarified with him that once a day would suffice, and he felt that it would (I mean, we’re young, but every 12 hours? Yowzers).

We’re going to do this for three months and he seemed very positive and almost excited-he really thinks that we have a good shot-especially on month two or three. He said we should temper our expectations for the first month.

So this is what we’re doing, and I’m totally cool with it, but when I came home from the doctor that day I sort of fell apart. I hadn’t had to think about ANY of this for the last five or six months really. Especially the last three months since my surgery. I had forgotten what it was like to live a life that DIDN’T revolve around fertility drugs and a sex schedule. Also, over the last year I had sort of convinced myself that not having kids would be okay (which, in the end, it would) and that there were definite advantages to not having kids. I’m not wrong here. Freedom to do what we want, when we want, more money, less stress on our marriage, etc. etc. So when Chief came home and we started talking about it, I really went into a downward spiral of “maybe I don’t want to do this anymore”. He was supportive and said that being a dad was something he felt like he could handle with me by his side, but if I decided that parenting wasn’t for me then he would support me on it. He had league bowling that night and I told him to go ahead and go, because I felt like I needed some space to think about the situation.

I texted a friend of mine who had a baby a year ago and asked her to call me, and even though I had calmed down and stopped sobbing by the time she called, I still just fell apart when she started talking to me. But talking to her was the best choice I could have made. She was so certain and reassuring. There was no doubt in her voice that becoming a mother (even though she has to do a lot of it on her own because her husband travels during the week) was the best decision of her life, and by the end of the conversation my priorities had refocused. By the next morning when I woke up, I couldn’t believe I had ever doubted.

I am scared of not having enough money for daycare, or enough time for my husband, or selfishly, enough time for me, but I still know that I want this. I think what I was also really afraid of was how much I want it, and how much it hurts when it doesn’t happen.

So there’s your scatterbrained update friends. Wish me and my defective womb luck. It was Chief and I’s second wedding anniversary this week-maybe that’s a good sign.