All Hope: Exit Stage Left.

Cycle day 6 and my lining grew a whole half a millimeter to 4.7mm, and we’re down to three follicles, all three still less than 10mm.

This ultrasound was done by the doctor I like the least, by the way, just to add insult to injury. His bedside manner just makes everything so much more unpleasant. “Okay so the nurse will call you with instructions.” ::door slam:: And that was it. And I’m just left to sit there and cry and struggle to put my pants back on and show myself out of the office. He doesn’t even tell me the size of the follicles, he tells a random person who is a different woman every time I’m there who is never introduced to me, and this person is tasked with standing in the corner and writing down what he says, which is very little. Oh, and he harped on about my fibroids again. I get it, buddy, I’ve got big fibroids that are making your job difficult. So sorry, but trust me, I wish I hadn’t grown them, too.

My clinic does blood draws before the ultrasounds. The phlebotomist called me from the waiting area and gestured for me to walk to her blood draw station. I stepped aside so she could lead the way. That’s not too much to ask, right? To lead a patient to where they need to go? So I stepped aside, waiting for her, and she says, “You know where to go.” I said, “No, actually, I don’t.” She replied, “Same place we’ve been going every time.” So I said, “Sorry but this is my fifth time here, I haven’t had time to memorize the hallways yet.”

Are you kidding me? I actually worked in healthcare for years so I’m pretty sympathetic to healthcare workers but, NO. The days I go to my fertility clinic are some of the worst days of my life and I have way more on my mind than memorizing a series of nondescript white doors in a small maze of nondescript white hallways. Just NO.

And it makes my mind go to unhappy places I don’t want it to go, wondering if she just sees all us infertile patients as frivolous women with money to burn, who could “just adopt,” or if she’s judging each of us as worthy or unworthy of fertility treatment, in my case, surely unworthy as a fat woman. I mean, isn’t that what everyone thinks? That fat=infertile, and weight loss=fertility? According to a lot of people I meet online, yes.

I’ve done everything I can to increase my follicles and lining this cycle. I did self fertility massage with essential oils, guided fertility meditation, I drank quarts of pomegranate juice, the disgusting raspberry leaf tea, I ate extra protein, I even added some full fat dairy, I lied in bed with my legs up on the wall to increase blood flow to my uterus. I did my acupuncture. I took the 20+ pills I’ve been taking every day. I wore wool socks and I used a heating pad on my back. Did I miss any of the tips, tricks, and home remedies found online?

More and more often I am starting to think all these tips and tricks are just BS. You used Preseed and did legs up after sex, and you got pregnant? Now Preseed and legs up are the key. You drank pomegranate juice and your uterine lining was thick enough? Now pomegranate juice is the answer. Vitex, maca root, pineapple core, Brazil nuts, castor oil packs, maybe it’s all the same.

I don’t understand how last June my lining was thick enough to not only get pregnant but carry until 9 weeks and I only lost it because of a trisomy. I remember there was a time I felt like I was so damn fertile and I just needed to stop miscarrying. How did we get here?

 

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