It's 8:00 in the morning. I've woken up (during my break, mind you) at 6:00 in the a.m. in order to get to my RE's office in time. It's okay. My ovaries have been working overtime for the past few days and are sore enough to let me know it. That's cool. Despite drinking massive amounts of water, the nurse has to dig around in my arm for my vein - twice. No worries. My nurse takes one look at the gaggle of maturing follicles on my left side and utters, "Oh, gosh." Damn. Here come the water works.
As it turns out, I respond very well to Follistim, and now have about twice as many healthy follicles as one would like to see at CD10. She said that we will most likely have to cancel my upcoming IUI. I knew that this was a possibility, but I really thought they could control this better. I guess I was wrong. My very kind nurse was as compassionate as they come, reassuring me and telling me that things would be okay. (She is amazing, and I'm considering naming my first-born after her, even if it's a boy.) But she misunderstood my tears. She told me that they'd help me with the financial aspect, seeing as how we'd likely have to start all over again next month. (Oh, how a month can be so long when you're waiting…) I, however, could only think about the wasted time and the feeling of hopelessness that was suddenly washing over me like a cold shower. Hope may be powerful, but it quickly abandons you in tough situations.
Ever one to cover my emotions with humor, I told her that, "if you go ahead with this and I have 10 babies, I'll get a reality show and cut you in on the profits!" She didn't go for the idea, though I think that "Ash and Ben + 10" sounds like a real winner.
They can cancel the IUI but they can't stop you from doing your own version of insemination, just remember that.
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