Clomid and Finnegan and National Infertility Awareness Week

Fertility.  Drugs. 

Really?

I spent my entire adult life trying to prevent this from happening.  It should be easy TO get pregnant.  Right?

Oh, how I wish.

The first time I took Clomid, I didn't have a whole lot of thought into the process because I happened to be on the perfect day to begin when I had my yearly gynocologist appointment and brought up my concerns to her.  I was over 30.  We had been trying to no avail.  Pop this pill and poof, nine months later I'll have a bundle of joy?  Sign me up. 

I took 50 mg and didn't have any mature egg folicles.  It was heartbreaking.  Um, I need fertility drugs AND even those don't work? 

That was December of 2005.  Dave and I decided to take a few months off, enjoy our belated honeymoon, relax and revisit the idea of Clomid later.  I felt like I needed a little timeout to process this and do some reading.  My obgyn was fantastic about letting me get my head sorted out before we proceeded any further. 

I felt like NEEDS FERTILITY DRUGS should have up in big blinking lights with an arrow flashing at my head every time I walked into my obgyn or got the news that one of my friends was pregnant or went to work or went to the grocery store.

I felt like a failure.  I passed a pregnant teen once and started crying in the grocery store.  Then, I just felt like a nutjob that cries at pregnant teens, as well as the flashing NEEDS FERTILITY DRUGS arrow blinking steadily over my head.

Oh, it sucked. Suuuuucked. 

I didn't think that I had it in me to be heartbroken again if it didn't work. And you only get six chances at the Clomid before they nix it and step you up to more tests and invasive procedures.  I wasn't sure at that point what we would choose to do.  Give up?  Adopt?  Be ok with being childless? Do every test and procedure known to man? 

When we were ready to try another round, it was May or June of 2006.  I did another round of 50 mg and nothing.  Again.  I cried.  Dave consoled.  I was hormonal and insane.  He stood by my side and held my hand.  I wasn't sure I could do another round and be disappointed when my OBGYN told me the next dose would be 100 mg.

Dave gently encouraged me to try again.  He had faith in medicine when I didn't.

We proceeded on with 100 mg dose.  Oh, I was a wreck.  A wreck.  It made me have horrible mood swings and timing sex... let's face it,  it isn't the most romantic notion in the world.  I went in for my ultrasound and they found one egg that was 10mm on day 14, and that wasn't a good sign.  I asked if there was any hope and the doctor I saw that day told me that it wasn't looking good. 

I went home and decided that even if the glimmer of hope was miniscule, I would still do the ovultion predictor kits.  Just in case.  There was, predictably, nothing for days.  I felt defeated, but on the 6th day of testing, many days after I should have ovulated, that line turned purple as purple can be.
Finnegan James was born 39 weeks later.  One week overdue, giant baby, cesarean scar, and all, I wouldn't change any of it for the world.  Science is an amazing thing and we have benefitted greatly from it. 

We didn't share our story with many people while we were going through it, it was hard enough to endure.  I didn't realize until later how many people experienced something similar.  But, I want you to know, you're not the only one out there. 

Thanks for listening to my story.  I hope yours ends in the same way.

National Infertility Awareness Week is April 24 - May 1.