You know what’s tough? Going through your third (and most likely final) IUI and having it not work.
But not even just that, it was an incredibly acrobatic IUI. I am talking two nurses, I am talking twisted catheter, I am talking legs up in the air like a circus act, pushing against two foreign hands and Lamaze esque/ yogic fire breathing to keep myself in tact.
I wish I could say that anecdote is for added drama–it is not.
Then, I get the call. Your HCG level is…this is me: wait, what? Where is the script about how this didn’t work, HCG what now? …it is a level 8, we expect 50.
So the story is, I was pregnant for a moment in time, again, and then I wasn’t –again. And yet, I am not broken.
Was it difficult turning off my tears this morning? yes. Was it difficult getting to work and being brave because only 2 of my colleagues know my situation? yes. Was it possible? SOMEHOW also a yes.
Coming out of this, I am miraculously more hopeful. I mean it. I am SO DONE with this whole shibang that I am going to make it happen…eventually.
We had recently been debating between IVF and Adoption after finding old paper work giving us a 4% chance of success with iui. We are open to both, and there are exciting pieces and drawbacks to each. But for one sweet moment last night, when Spencer put his hand on my stomach, and we felt maybe there would be 3 of us, I knew then that we had to do everything we could physically and emotionally and financially afford to help us bring a baby into the world.
I know the time will come. And it will be the right time.