If you'd asked me a year ago, I would have predicted that I would at least be pregnant by now.
It frankly feels a little cruel that I'm not.
In the last ten months, I've gone through seven IUIs, three doctors, two acupuncturists, ten vials of sperm, one hysterosalpingogram, sixteen ultrasounds, 3600 milligrams of progesterone, three trigger shots, eighteen self-administered follistim shots, countless bottles of vitamins and supplements, and at least a gallon of chinese herbs.
Not to mention thousands of dollars.
And seven very long two-week-waits.
As if that's not enough, this week I'll be doing a saline hystogram to see if I have a polyp, and if I do I'll have to have surgery.
Now that I'm officially preparing for my first, and hopefully last, IVF procedure, I've started a whole new regimen... starting with ten thirty-second sessions of femoral massage daily, which isn't as great as it sounds. Basically you press down on your femoral artery until the blood stops flowing, which gets the blood to stay longer in your abdomen. Or something. I don't totally understand it. But I'm doing it! I'm also spending an hour a night with a heating pad on my tummy. And soaking my feet in warm water a few times a week. (That last one, at least, is a good excuse to get a pedicure.)
I certainly hope by next Christmas I have a baby... and not just an even longer list.