I will admit that Elizabeth was the one who was more certain she wanted children from the very beginning, but I was pretty quick to catch the fever, too. One of the best things about our relationship is our tendency to agree with one another on the big stuff: our core values, where we want to live, what’s funny and what’s not, and the fact that we both want to be pregnant.
Since I’m almost 2 years older than Elizabeth, I’m going first. For the past year, though, we’ve both been rocking the prenatal vitamins and cutting back on post-dinner beers. I’ve also been doing acupuncture and yoga and starting each day with a meditation practice.
So when we finally had our first IUI–after lots of appointments, consultations, medical tests, and a long visit with a psychologist (required by our clinic)–I was a little surprised when we got our first BFN. But then I figured, fine–BFNs are like a rite of passage; we had to have one.
Then we had another. And I started feeling pretty heavy about the whole thing. The OPKs were frustrating, less precise than I’d hoped, and it started to feel like we were shooting a very expensive dart at an invisible target.
So about half an hour ago, after we finished our dinner dishes, Elizabeth got on her knees in our bathroom and injected my stomach with our first Ovidrel trigger shot. We’re going in for our third IUI in 36 hours, hoping that this cycle is the one that sticks.