It’s been a crazy morning. I was up at 6:00am to get dressed and ready for an appointment with the reproductive endocrinologist and his lovely team of miracle workers. It’s funny how the legs that haven’t been shaved in about a week got shaved for this momentous occasion. I mean who would want to poke out the eyes or leave scratch marks on the people who might someday help you to bring forth another life into this world?
But you’re all not interested in my legs so let me get to what you really want to know. (Cuz, I know you love hearing all about some stranger’s reproductive system.) The good news is that I have four wonderful follicles just waiting for ovulation so that some hardy swimmers can attack them. The bad news is that the lining of my uterus sucks. Seven is the optimal number and I’m at two. Let me put this in layman’s terms for those of you lucky enough not to know this much about your body. If I were to get pregnant with such thin lining the chances of actually holding the pregnancy is almost zilch. What causes this? Who knows? Maybe low estrogen levels. Like anything else in the world of infertility it’s all a crap shoot.
I’m waiting for the doctor, who was not in this morning because he was performing in vitro on another victim, to look at my ultrasound and tell me what we need to do now. I’m also waiting on my blood work to know if ovulation is likely to happen in the next 48 hours. (See, I bet a lot of you out there had no idea your blood could tell you this.) I might receive the call telling me to take some estrogen pills to help thicken that lining or I might be told that it’s too late this cycle and to just scrap the whole baby making process this month.
I certainly want to err on the side of giving me the best chance at having a successful pregnancy and baby. I also know that time and money are not on my side. Every month is another month older for my aging ovaries. Every unsuccessful round of drugs is less money left in the small amount our insurance company will cover before this all starts coming directly out of our pocket.
So, I sit and wait. It’s the great unknown. Kinda like when you’re pregnant and you still don’t know the sex of your baby or what labor is going to be like. Except this time I’m not even sure if there will be a prize at the end of it all.
So far this round my ovaries are winners but my lining is a big loser. Guess you can’t win first prize in every event. And the saga continues …