Today was our second IUI. As expected, our total count was a lot lower after two days of providing samples. We ended up with 700,000. The motility did go up to 18%. I wish that had happened yesterday! When I received the test tube, I thought for a split second that it said 7 million, but it was really .7 million.
Both the nurse and the RE told us to stay positive, which was nice but a lot easier said than done. I did have another ultrasound to make sure I ovulated, and I did. I asked what I should do next month - schedule another ultrasound on CD11-12 and start with the OPK's. Honestly, I feel like there's nothing but a series of appointments to get through before we will be allowed to proceed to IVF. Yes, I know there's a chance. (Thanks, Sis.) And I know it only takes one. (Thanks, Mom.) I realize why they want to try two cycles of IUI before moving on. I know there are people out there who have had luck with an even lower count. And I really am trying to stay positive. But here, on my little anonymous piece of cyberspace, I can say how much this hurts. The look on my husband's face when he saw the count broke my heart. He's the most amazing person and all I could ever want in a partner. When I see his face cloud over because of something he can't control, I feel like someone is wrenching my insides. And I really think it's a tribute to his inner strength and love for me that he comes home each night and tries to cheer me up.
Several people had their children with them in the waiting room. I never really thought I had an opinion on whether children should be "allowed" in an RE's office. I mean, these kids might well be success stories from the clinic. And sometimes you can't find a sitter. But there's something so painful about seeing these beautiful children laughing and playing in a room full of quiet women. It's the physical precense of what I want and haven't been able to have.I didn't see any bracelets today, but I did pay more attention to the people present. They were all so quiet, introspective, sad. The husbands dotting the room also looked grave. The doctors, nurses, and staff remain upbeat and smiling. They radiate optimism. It's such a contrast.
So, now we wait. My luteal phase averages 12 days so we'll know in less than two weeks. I've decided to keep temping, so I should have an idea around 10-11 days when my temp starts to drop. And I'm holding on to a tiny kernel of hope. I have this beautiful soft sage green yarn...I started making a baby hat last night. It might not happen this month, but it will happen. Do you hear that, infertility? Don't make yourself too comfortable. You're not going to win much longer.