Oh my. So much has happened in the last few weeks, I’m not even sure where to begin. Let’s see, I started therapy, we bought a house, my dad had a heart attack (he’s okay now), we began the process of renting out our current house, and I officially started fertility treatments.
Maybe I should break this up into sections…
As I mentioned in my previous post, I decided to seek out therapy to help me cope with the grief I was still dealing with from the miscarriage, and the anxiety about having trouble conceiving again since. Due to my previous therapy experience, I was a little skeptical about the process, but also aware that I did need some help. We’ve had three sessions now and I like it so far. It’s not covered by insurance, so I hope it’s worth it. I guess time will tell…
A little over two weeks ago, on Thursday, July 19, we went to go see a few houses we had seen online. The last one we saw on the tour was just about perfect: great curb appeal, amazing neighborhood, great schools, huge yard, very private – it was pretty much everything we had been looking for, and anything that wasn’t 100% perfect could be updated or changed. And since the neighborhood was so nice, we’d never worry about doing too many updates and pricing ourselves out of the neighborhood. We made the offer the next day, on Friday, and found out Saturday morning our offer was accepted. Holy crap, we just bought a house!
We knew we had a lot to do to get our current house ready to rent out, so we got to work on finally finishing up some home improvement projects we had either started or procrastinated on. We close on August 24, so we’re hoping to get a renter in starting September 1. We had two families come by to look at it last night, another coming tonight, and a couple more I’m trying to schedule for next week. Both families last night said they were interested and would be filling out an application. This is all happening so fast, but is very exciting!
Our new house!
Dad’s Heart Attack:
Last Monday, my mom called me at work to tell me my dad had had a heart attack. It was some of the worst news I’d ever heard, and I felt like my heart, too, had stopped when she told me. I quickly dashed out of the office, D picked me up from work and we drove all the way around to the peninsula to meet them at the hospital. He was in really bad shape when we got there, but stable. Apparently he had been walking into a meeting earlier that day when his heart just suddenly stopped and he collapsed. Thankfully he was surrounded by his competent medical team (he’s a doctor) when it happened. They performed about 5 minutes of chest compressions on him, before zapping him with the paddles, which finally brought him back. They rushed him to the hospital, where they determined he had two 90% blockages in his arteries. They put two stints in to open them up, which should be a permanent solution — that and meds he’ll need to stay on indefinitely to ensure it doesn’t happen again.
D and I went to see him last Thursday and he was home, talking, walking around, eating, and generally in good spirits. Hard to believe we were looking at someone whose heart had completely stopped just three days prior. He is still in a lot of pain, as he cracked some ribs during chest compressions, but he’s expected to make a full recovery, and we are so thankful. Thank God it happened where it did, and not while he was driving or something.
Yesterday I had the doctor appointment I had set up two months ago, hoping I wouldn’t need. It’s now been almost a year since we initially started trying, and 6 cycles of charting and perfect timing since the miscarriage. We’ve been doing everything right and I should be pregnant by now, so now we start down the scary path of fertility treatments.
On the one hand, I’m glad we’re being proactive. Seeing the doctor was the first step in hopefully finally figuring out what’s wrong and getting pregnant already. On the other hand, I’m terrified. I can no longer reassure myself that “these things just take time,” or “it’ll happen any time now.” There’s a good chance something may actually be wrong. And that’s an overwhelming thought.
So to start, my doctor prescribed me 2.5 mg of Femara to take for 5 days. Femara is similar to the more well-known Clomid, in that it’s often used for women who don’t ovulate, but is also sometimes given to women who do ovulate (like me), to give ovulation a boost. Unlike Clomid, though, Femara tends to have fewer side effects and has less of a chance of turning you into an egg factory. Women on Clomid often have to be carefully monitored because they can actually produce too many eggs — and no one wants to be the next Octomom! Femara does have a slightly elevated risk of twins, but it’s so low it’s considered almost insignificant. Truth be told, in some ways I almost wouldn’t mind twins. I do want two kids, and this has been such an ordeal trying to get even one. If I could be one-and-done when it comes to pregnancy… I have to admit, that does have its appeal. Then again, with my miscarriage history, I am not interested in having a high-risk pregnancy, and multiples usually are. I’m pretty sure I’ll be a basket case when the time comes even with a normal pregnancy.
In addition to the Femara, D has to get his swimmers checked, and next month if I’m not knocked up yet, I’ll go in for what’s called a hysterosalpingogram, or HSG for short. This, I’m not looking forward to. They inject a dye in your uterus and then look at it through an ultrasound to see if there are any blockages, scar tissue, or other abnormalities. I’ve heard it’s pretty painful. Why do guys have it so easy? Look, I get that it’s awkward to have to walk into a clinic and do… that – but come on! Here I am, legs in stirrups, having this painful procedure done, while D is next door having an orgasm? Not fair.
Hopefully it won’t come to that and the Femara will do its job — without doing it too well. One would be great, two would be doable, but I don’t want a litter.