Sexquestered on Beach Weekend

Round two of hard-core fertility drugs did the trick for Team Ralph! We’re expecting in November 2017 and so far, things are looking good.

Here’s how it happened (outside of the obvious):

Cycle day one started after our camping trip in February. After a baseline ultrasound, I took letrozole on cycle days three-seven, just as I had with the first round of serious fertility drugs. On day seven, I started several days of Gonal-F pen injections. On cycle day 10 I went back for a mid-cycle ultrasound and was pretty bummed to see not much had gone on: I had a few small follicles growing. There was still time, though.

I went back to the doctor on cycle day 13, just one day before I was supposed to leave for a (poorly scheduled, in retrospect) long weekend (sans-husband) in Florida. I was a wreck going into that appointment: trying to decide whether I should coordinate bringing fertility drugs on a plane, or focus on being home to spend some quality time with Michael. It all would come down to the status of my follicles: there was a chance I would need several more days of drugs, in which case I’d be good to spend the weekend on the beach. Instead, the ultrasound showed one strong eggo and a few others following behind! Before I even got a chance to discuss travel timing with the nurse, she was giving me instructions to trigger the next day, so my trip was off. I was 5% disappointed, but 95% glad things were working as they were supposed to and that “go-time” had arrived.

I missed out on this for Sexquester Weekend. The things we do for our non-existent children, amiright?

That weekend will forever be known in my head as the Sexquester Weekend. It was cold out, we were both home for a three-day weekend and had very little to do (I had just cancelled a trip to the beach, after all) except “it.” So “do it” we did. Then of course, the lovely two-week wait began.

I’d like to say I was patient during this two-week-wait. I’ve definitely done worse: I stayed off Dr. Google and only did a minimal amount of searching Instagram for TTC and “pregnancy after infertility” posts. I’d had days of optimism when my boobs were hurting, and other days of pessimism just to protect myself from another round of disappointment.

By the time I was 12, maybe 13 days-post-ovulation, my patience had worn thin. I woke up SUPER early that morning (I’m a middle of the night pee-er, even not pregnant) and peed on a stick. I had the same thought process as always while I laid on the closet floor waiting for results: “Don’t get your hopes up – it’s probably negative.” But at the same time, Michael had been pretty optimistic in the last few weeks over it. He doesn’t emote a whole lot, so when he does, it’s hard not to take a cue from that optimism. I was also prepared for the chance that it was too early to test. Staying guarded is good, but it turns out the pessimism wasn’t necessary, because this was what showed itself after just a few minutes:

Please excuse the pee splash. This was a very fresh photo.

At first, I was SURE this was positive. I grabbed a couple photos and crawled back into bed. No way was I going to the gym and risking the chance of knocking this baby loose (that isn’t a thing, by the way.) When Michael woke up a few hours later, we had a nice little moment of cautious optimism together. I’ve been so excited to share this info with him for so long that his first question caught me almost speechless:

Michael: “Now what?”

Meg: “Uh… I have no idea? We’ve never gotten this far? I guess I’ll call the nurse when they open and find out!”

By the time I got to work… I was SURE I had imagined the positive test. I kept checking and rechecking the photos I took. I even posted one of those super lame “Help, ladies, what do you think” photos on some look-at-my-pee-stick website. Years of working in social media will lead you to believe that most people online are idiots… but I was quite thankful for almost all the people who talked me off the ledge. And it turned out, that wasn’t even necessary.

Our nurse told me to come in for a blood test as soon as possible. Despite a day full of meetings, my butt was in that office by 10 a.m. Just a few hours later she called back to confirm: “you’re definitely pregnant!” That was crazy to hear.

3 thoughts on “Sexquestered on Beach Weekend

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