A year of infertility

I’ve always wanted to be a mother.  And I’ve officially had baby fever since…

“When did Matt & Liz get married?” I ask Ian.
“Ummm, I don’t know.  Was that 2014 or 2013?” he replies.
“2014,” I say.
“Ummm, was that August…September?” he asks.

Let’s say fall 2014 is when I officially had baby fever.  It was so bad by Christmas that my sister’s boyfriend bought me baby clothes and aspirin disguised as “Baby Fever Reliever”.   Ian and I had planned on waiting until April 2015 to start trying, but we decided it’d be ok if I stopped birth control in January and use the very effective method of pulling out to prevent any potential pregnancy.  (Note to you new-to-sex folks, pulling out is NOT an effective method of pregnancy prevention.  Unless you’re us, in which case it is.)

In April, we officially decided we would just go for it.  I thought it would happen.  We’d have sex throughout the month and I’d get pregnant.  It didn’t happen in April and it didn’t happen in May and it didn’t happen in June.

Being type-A, which I hate admitting, and trying unsuccessfully to get pregnant don’t really mix all that well.  I tracked my period and attempted some natural tracking methods.  I started to get a little frustrated/anxious/worried as to why we weren’t pregnant.  When you find yourself in this situation, you’ll find that’s exactly the opposite of how you should be feeling to get pregnant.

For a couple of months, I bought absurdly expensive ovulation tests.  And it turns out, my luteinizing hormone spikes!  That felt kind of normal, and we made sure to have sex when the first stripe was darker than the second stripe.  Obviously, we still didn’t get pregnant and I was over spending stupid money on these tests.  I went on Amazon and bought 100 of them for like $30.  Thank God for Amazon, am I right?!

I did those tests for another three months.  Every month I had an LH spike.  Every month we had sex.  Every month I got my period.

Those are the months when you start openly talking about trying to get pregnant.  And when you just want some good old-fashioned empathy, you instead get a lot of advice that is something to the effect of “You just need to relax.”

No advice is more unwelcome.

We took a month or two off from really trying.  Sometimes, you just can’t give it the ol’ college try. When we started intentionally trying again (February 2016), and it still didn’t happen, I asked Ian to get a sperm analysis.

I wanted it to be his fault.  I wanted his sperm to be weird and dysfunctional.  I waited until I was married to have sex, and I began to realize I had subconsciously felt like I deserved to have a great sex life and an easy pregnancy.  (Side note: how I got such a wonderful man to marry my prudish ass, I’ll never understand).  I get God doesn’t work like that, but now is not the time to get into the spiritual tailspin this whole situation has put me in.

As it turns out, Ian’s sperm is normal!  And we’re continuing to try and get pregnant.  Every month I get (ir)rationally emotional about not being pregnant, which in turn makes me realize that I’m PMSing, which makes me even more emotional.  It’s a really vicious cycle.

So here we are, over 18 months off birth control, 14 months of TTC (trying to conceive, for those of you that aren’t familiar with fertility lingo) and infertile.

Up next, tests and imaging for me.  I’m sure I’ll keep you posted, because writing about this ish is pretty cathartic.

2 thoughts on “A year of infertility

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