It’s been such a long journey already. At times, it was hard to let myself imagine that we’d finally be at this place and, truth be told, I’m still a little stunned by the reality of it.
It took months for K’s period to make its reappearance, then two cycles involving a wait for ovulation to occur and then agonizing waits to test for pregnancy. Our first attempt at insemination (IUI) involved a long delay between inseminating and K finally getting his period. We were completely overwhelmed by a constant sense of anxiety and took several pregnancy tests during that wait, one of which was a very faint positive. Unfortunately, by the time we went to our reproductive endocrinologist (RE) for blood work to confirm the pregnancy, we must have lost the baby. It’s what many refer to as a “chemical pregnancy.” It was a horrendous feeling of loss and sadness for us both.
Because K was finding it increasingly difficult to be off of testosterone, we decided to work with our RE to take fertility medication and a trigger shot with ovulatory monitoring to enhance our chances at conceiving during our second cycle. Our RE almost exclusively prescribes Femara to his patients on fertility medication because it has many of the benefits of Clomid without the potential side effects such as anxiety and depression. The monitoring involved endless early mornings to have K’s estradiol level checked and ultrasounds to monitor the size of his maturing follicles, most of which wasn’t covered by our insurance plan. We started to heavily stress about money as we watched the savings we’d manage to scrape together for this journey quickly diminish with each monitoring visit. We knew that if the second try didn’t end with the result we’d hoped, we would have to take at least one month off from trying in order to replenish our savings for another attempt.
We went into the second try with so many reservations. We were terrified to get any hopes up. Still, this time, we felt much calmer and a lot less anxious about our two week wait until we were able to test for pregnancy. During the beginning of the second week, when K brought home french onion dip from a routine tip to the pharmacy for refills, and then said he felt too yucky to eat the food he’d purchased on a craving-based whim, I felt a glimmer of hope. On Friday, at 2:30 a.m., K turned to me in bed and announced that he had to pee and wondered if we should test. I, having just ingested my second dose of sleeping medication for the night, followed K into the bathroom and sleepily waited. I wasn’t even paying attention when K announced, “I think I see a second pink line!”
It was faint, but much more prominent than the previous month’s result. Still, after our previous month’s heartbreak, we were tentative and frightened. I went back to bed in my zombie-like, already asleep state, while K stayed up ruminating about the result. In the morning, we called the RE’s office and they congratulated us, assured us that a second line, no matter how faint, means that we are pregnant and that we should come in on Monday morning for the first of our bi-weekly HCG beta tests. We began to feel a glimmer of hope, but we were still somewhat skeptical.
That evening, I had picked K up at work and we proceeded to make an hour long trek to visit out-of-town friends for dinner. I brought a digital pregnancy test with me, just in case, so we stopped at a Speedway gas station to see if we could potentially confirm the result. We crammed into a single-stall restroom to test and created quite the line for the women’s room. People, of course, gave us dirty looks when we both poured out of a single restroom, but it was worth it to be able to confirm this joyous news.
On the evening before the 34th anniversary of when my mom learned that she was becoming a mom, I learned that I was about to embark on the journey toward motherhood as well. It was a meaningful and treasured day to receive such momentous news.