After experiencing the horrible tests required to determine if we could begin infertility treatment, we walked out of the office with a prescription for Clomid and HCG. Clomid is a medication that is designed to make a woman ovulate. Kinda like having the power to make a tantrum-throwing child go to their room when going to their room is the reason their throwing the tantrum. I was going to ovulate whether my hormones liked it or not! HCG is a hormone that helps kick the egg out of the proverbial nest and is then produced in greater quantities after conception: it helps the new swimmer/egg couple, set up in their new home.
We were given very specific instructions on when to start Clomid, when we were to schedule our "date nights," and when I was to follow with the injections of HCG in my stomach. Eshk! But, we both felt such a sense of relief knowing that before the end of the year, we could potentially be expecting...even if it meant I had to stab myself with a needle and inject myself with hormones. Are you starting to see what was going to be my least favorite part?
In addition to our new-found baby plans we now had travel plans. It was the week of Thanksgiving and we hadn't been able to spend the holiday with my dad's family in three years. We were FINALLY going to get to go. Monday night I took the dog's out for their evening potty time and as the chilled breeze met the back of my neck, I noticed that at the front of my throat something was staging a mild attack. Eventually it would turn into a battle of Normandy proportions. It seemed minor enough at the time though, and I remembered saying a short prayer, "Lord, please don't let this turn into anything serious, it'd kinda ruin our vacation. Amen." The next afternoon we loaded up luggage, dogs, and all the boxes of tissue in our house--we were Santa Ana bound. The good news was my throat felt 100% better, the bad news was my sinuses felt like they were going to rupture and my right ear was throbbing so hard I could have sworn a techno club had popped up overnight.
Halfway down our I-5 trek I was in tears. My face hurt so bad, my eyes felt like someone was playing whack-a-mole from the inside, and my ear was so plugged and sore, I felt like I needed one of those giant old fashioned "horns" to hear properly. When we stopped for dinner, Danny asked if we should just turn around and go back home (he's so thoughtful). The stubborn woman that I am insisted that we carry on despite my obvious misery and great fear of knowing we would have to eventually have to go over the Grapevine. Sinus and ear infections are not fun ever, but they qualify as torturous when you rapidly climb to 1500 feet. In the perfection that is hindsight, I only wish I would have waived the white flag and agreed to return to the wonderful comforts of my own home and bed...at least I could be comfortable while I was miserable.
The next day, after orchestrating the perfect cocktail of pregnancy-safe medications (I was still hopeful to be better by our first date night), I was still just as miserable as could be. That Thanksgiving was HANDS DOWN the most lousy holiday we had experienced as a married couple. We were now both sick, me with my plethora of infections in my head and Danny with a violent cough that joined forces with some serious achiness. We were just a snotty, eye-watering, coughing, achy mess; it's how everyone dreams they can spend time away on vacation over the holiday, I'm just sure of it! We were absolute party poopers that Thanksgiving and I felt just awful since we had gone all that way and eventually ended up sequestered in our room at my Uncle's house.
We had hardly slept that night and because of it, we had the dogs and our stuff loaded up and we were ready to hit the road at 6:58am. We were going to sleep in our own bed that night if it was going to kill us! While I technically was still sicker than Dan, his coughing fits were so violent, it simply wasn't safe for him to drive. I at least didn't come close to blacking out from any "sinus infection attacks" so I was behind the wheel...all 525 miles.
We had made it home safe and sound. Dan went immediately to Immediate Care to get some medication and I got the dogs settled and the bags unpacked. Poor husband had bronchitis and a fever. Of course, wouldn't you know, as timing would have it, this was supposed to be the first of our planned date nights. Seriously!? Yup. Not even kidding. With both of us being so sick and having driven for nearly 10 hours that SOOO wasn't going to happen.....not even a little bit.
The following Monday I was feeling slightly more human and had my follow up appointment in Sacramento with Dr. Zeringue to see if the Clomid had done it's job. Dan wasn't able to go, so my sister Kelly, agreed to go with me. Well, it turns out the Clomid REEEALLY did its job. He was thinking I wouldn't need to do the HCG injection to help kick the egg out. He was pretty sure I was going to do that on my own...within the next 24 hours. The nurse went ahead and did the injection for me so that it would be in my system when I did ovulate to help with the new couple settling in if they were destined to meet. I went home with new date night instructions and for the 2nd time in 2012, I was going to ovulate. Yippeeee!
I got home and told Dan the good news, we were on our way to starting our family, but our new date nights were now adjusted for that night and the next. The good news suddenly turned into, "Are you kidding me?" news. While it can be done when one is sick...although, how much fun is that, really? With both of us being as sick as we were, we simply had to face the fact that it just wasn't going to happen. Finally, there was a light at the end of our infertility tunnel and we had to step aside and let the baby train pass us by.
After all those months of trying on our own, knowing I wasn't ovulating, then FINALLY getting the help we needed, we were both too sick to do our part to make our family dreams a reality. Dan began to improve but I began to decline. My sinus and ear infections cleared up much faster than I was anticipating, but their plan was a little more sinister than I had hoped. They simply up and move their little infection-fest about 10 inches south. I now had pneumonia. Guess who was going to watch the baby train loop by next month too?
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