Getting Hope's room ready

Now I've done it. Gone and bought myself a fertility monitor. What's that you say? Surely a gal with PCOS who rarely ovulates without medical intervention could find better things to spend the money on--like crack, wine, or chocolate, perhaps?

True, true, all of it but hope has been showing up around here again. Recently, I've begun to realize that I want to feel healthy again, and that means I've gone back to really watching my carbs (for the record, no, I'm not one of those bandwagon jumpers--my former RE in Atlanta recommended I go low carb, which I did back in January 2003, as a means of helping with my PCOS and insulin resistance) and working out almost every day. Since going low-carb and regularly working out, I lost 60 lbs. but stopped there since we were actively cycling and the state of my overall health and low-carb living was one less thing for me to worry about. So it fell slightly by the wayside but I'm happy to say that I slowed down on the highway of life and picked it back up last week, and my buddy Hope was with her too. Hence, why I bought the fertility monitor--I figure if I can lose the rest of the weight (between 15 and 30 lbs--i.e., I'd be happy with 15 but would really love to lose 30), perhaps I can ovulate on my own again and the monitor can help determine if this is the case.

One blessing of Hurricane Frances was the fact that I was able to get in and see a therapist who specializes in infertility last week. She was wonderful. She herself is an infertile gal (realized she wanted kids when she was 45 years old but the doctors, unfortunately, could not help her) and was so knowledgeable, and empathetic, and just generally wonderful. And apparently, my RE's practice sends a lot of patients to her though she's never actually met the REs on staff (5 partners). She knows firsthand--and secondhand too, I guess--so much of what I'm thinking and feeling.

More importantly, though, she opened my eyes to new beginnings. You see, back in 2000, hubby and I up and left all that we had known of life in south Florida (both raised here from an early age) and moved to Atlanta for hubby's work. We started our infertility journey with an OB/GYN idiot while there, and then progressed to two different REs, necessitated by a change in our insurance. While there we underwent two clomid/IUI cycles that were both BFNs.

In early 2003, hubby's job transferred us to Birmingham, Alabama. I won't bore you too much but we immediately found a reputable RE there and underwent two injectible/IUI cycles that were BFNs. Fast forward nine months (coincidentally, I assure you) and my husband gets the opportunity to transfer back to south Florida--goodbye B'ham, hello home. Thank you sweet jesus (um, not really since I'm not a believer, but you get my drift).

So here we are--getting back to new beginnings. We find an RE that is supposedly THE one to see for infertility in south Florida. I lurve him, he is a down-to-earth, compassionate doctor who seems genuinely caring and determined to help us reach our goal. I'm not a name and number (plus with our last name, which is actually an acronym for an male factor infertility treatment option, well, I'm sure he can't forget us/our name each time he sees us in the office--which is actually kind of funny in a strange way--and hey, I'll give bonus points if any of you can figure out or guess what our last name is--and no, it's not ICSI, but--a hint--it is four letters long).

We started seeing this wonderful physician in April. After a battery of tests that month, I have a lap/endo resection in May, we do our first injectible/IUI cycle in July and get our first BFP. Sure, we lose it 7 weeks later but, you see, he got us farther than we had ever gone before. And, on the day of the D&C, when he came in to talk with me at the hospital before the procedure, he said what had happened to me choked him up and he looked it, and later went on to say that he was "confident he could get us there again." Not a promise, per se, but it gave me hope on what was the bleakest day of my life.

So, the new beginning came in April, the therapist says. Don't look back at anything that happened before then. Don't count the failed cycles--they don't matter. You weren't home, you weren't happy, you weren't near your support system of friends and family, you weren't with a RE that you and your husband both like and trust--a physician who has done more to help you in 4 months than any other RE before him. Now you are, she said.

And this, my friends, is my new beginning. The glass is half full and I can't wait to drink from the fountain. So here I am, one successful cycle down, hopefully more to come. And I'm getting Hope's room ready for her permanent, yet transient, stay. You know how she likes to go out boozing and doesn't show up for days, weeks sometimes, but yet she always returns home when she is needed. Welcome back, friend.