Girl Talk: Fertility Update

*NOTE TO STINKY BOYS: This is the girls' treehouse. No boys allowed. Unless you want to be dressed up like a pretty, pretty princess and have your hair styled with glitter hairspray.*

Allllrighty!

So we've been trying for a bebe for over a year. And my body is non-compliant. So we've had to have all sorts of tests run... Which is a grrrreat hobby to pass the time. (Knitting? Why no, I think I'll take blood-letting and exhibitionism, thanks!)

So yesterday was the followup after all the inn-spectin', inn-jectin', ne-glectin' and seee-lectin'. My doc, Dr. F, put me on a five-day (non-contraceptive) progesterone pill to start my period. Since today is day 53 without one. On day five of my impending period I start taking Clomid for five more days.

Days 10-16 should be a riot... Or a parched and weary death march with obligatory I.V. drip.

On day 21 of my cycle, I go in for more bloodwork to see where my progesterone levels are. "15" is the optimum. My past bloodwork revealed mine to be at 0.08 (which, incidentally, is the same level Dr. F.'s wife's was before she got pregnant with their second son). If it's "15" or higher, then Dr. F. will keep me on the same Clomid strength I'm on and we'll just see what pans out. If it's not, he'll start raising the strength of the Clomid to get me there. There are three strengths of Clomid, but most people usually see results without having to go all the way up to the maximum. But should we max out, there is also another medication that works like Clomid, but is stronger and uses a different "stimulator" to achieve ovulation.

The progesterone pills and the Clomid have been known to make women woozy and light-headed. All the side effects on the bottle are similar to what you'd have if you came down with a case of RAGING PMS. Fun, right? So I'm going to try to take it easy this week. (And, um, say a prayer for Tef.)

One of my friends had to do this exact same thing. And it worked. She has a beautiful one-and-a-half year old daughter to show for it. And she has had two surprise pregnancies since then without the use of Clomid (the latter of which is a boy, due in July). Her story, along with several others, leads me to think that Clomid might just be the little kick in the pants some women's bodies need to get them on track and that it picks up the slack after the birth of the first child. At least that's what I hope.


Last Friday I was shopping with my BFF and her Mom, Miz L., for a mother-of-the-bride outfit. We were in a large department store's dress section. While we were mocking all the prom dresses which had been herded together in a cornucopia of technicolor nausea, I almost stepped on something.

"Aw... somebody lost their binky!" I shuffled a blue pacifier lying on the floor with the toe of my shoe. Miz L. and my BFF and both cooed an "awww" in unison. I reached down and picked it up. It had little bears on it.

Suddenly Miz L. burst out, "It's a good omen! It's the gypsy in me... Sorry." I raised a sarcastic eyebrow. She insisted "It is!" She's a straight-laced fundamentalist with a crazy old alcoholic mother who insists somewhere in her family line there was a speck of a drop of gypsy blood. Nanna Ginblossom capitalizes on that fantasy as much as she can, to the chagrin of the rest of the family. We all started laughing hysterically. And wondered aloud where the crying baby was who'd lost his blue bear binky.

But I took it home anyway. I washed it and put it in the bud vase on my kitchen windowsill. It reminds me of my hope.

And it reprimands me when I think I might not be ready for children. That we might be too busy or too important to another ministry or cause. That I'm just fooling myself when I say I want a child. That my body might be right. It might be the manifestation of the spiritual reality that I'm unfit to carry a child. So I shouldn't want it. I don't really. I'm fine. I'll just get a dog. Or volunteer at a charity. That will fix the longing in my soul for something to love and nurture and cuddle. That will make the smell of baby powder and the sound of lullabyes an impotent threat.

Little blue bears and baby powder. The tears they bring are worth the reminder.