I realize that I have yet to write about how I made the decision to finally buck up and take Clomid. Warning though--it gets a little sad.
While I've known for two years now that Clomid would be an option for me, I continually chose to just let "nature run its course" and not start any fertility treatments. Sometimes, this idea seems silly to me because lately I've had so much success with this medicine. I start to think, "Why didn't I do this earlier and save myself a lot of heartbreak?" I've come to realize that actually saying the words out loud, "I'm trying to have a baby. I want to have a baby" is a big fat deal. I wasn't ready to do so until I met with my doctor on December 15.
Going back though, last summer, my husband and I wanted to give my fertility a jump start before we tried fertility medicine, so I started acupuncture. I had weekly appointments for six weeks, and for about an hour every time, I had no choice but to lay still and completely relax. Because I am a Type A personality with an obnoxiously busy schedule, being forced to just be still was probably just as therapeutic as the actual procedure. Suffice to say, I had great success with acupuncture. After two months' time, I had my first period in over a year. Not only that, but it was my first period that was not caused by birth control or Provera in five years. While I'm not currently using acupuncture solely to get pregnant, I still have monthly appointments and will recommend the treatment to anyone.
This fall, because of the acupuncture, I had two periods which were 60 days apart, the last one being in late October. By late November, I started to exhibit symptoms which could have been related to pregnancy. Specifically, several times when my family and I sat down for dinner during my Thanksgiving vacation, I grew nauseated when food was placed in front of me. One morning, when we were having breakfast at the Wayside Inn in Massachusetts, the waiter placed a basket of muffins in front of me, and I had to excuse myself and run to the restroom to get away from the dastardly little things. Then, when I sat back down, all I wanted to eat was an omelet. That may not sound like such a big thing, but you should probably know--I hate eggs. I never eat them, and I hate their texture. I have tried for years to appreciate eggs, but thus far, omelets are about the only kind of eggs I can sort of tolerate. When I ordered the omelet, everyone in my family stared at me in surprise. I think at that point both of our mothers thought something must be up with me.
I had more symptoms than just the nausea; however, over the last couple months, I've either forgotten them--or repressed the memories! Overall though, for two weeks straight, I felt nauseous all the time. I was calling my mother everyday saying, "Could I be pregnant? I have this symptom. Does that mean I'm pregnant?" God bless my mother for her patience. I really have put her through so much over the last two years.
I knew that I needed to find out whether or not I was actually pregnant, but after never getting a positive result, I kept avoiding actually taking a pregnancy test. My annual well-woman exam was coming up, and I had to make the choice: should I learn my fate from a emotionless little stick--or a nurse who might possibly just casually tell me news that could determine my future?
In the end, I chose the nurse. And I chose poorly.
To be continued...