When you struggle with infertility, you develop a laser focus on tiny details that’s hard to shake. I’ve written a little about our infertility journey, but those tiny details stick out in my brain like a sore thumb. We struggled, and ultimately ended up having an IUI, which stands for intrauterine insemination. Sparing you the gory details, we discovered that my cervical canal was officially deemed hostile territory, and those little swimmers needed an Uber through the treacherous battlefield to the promised land.
Our IUI was performed on December 27th, 2012. They told us “absolutely, positively DO NOT take a pregnancy test for 10 days”, but after about 5-6 days, you get REALLY anxious. So, on January 2nd, I took a test. Negative. I cried and cried and cried, but crying had become pretty commonplace for me. I got the same result on the mornings of January 3rd, 4th, 5th, and 6th. My husband told me to just stop and wait a few more days, but I’d already convinced myself that the procedure had been a complete and total failure, just like my reproductive system and womanhood. A BIG FAT FAILURE.
That evening of the 6th, which was a Sunday, we had just come home from dinner at my mom’s house and were watching a little TV in the living room. At about 9:45pm, I decided to get ready for bed and left my husband in the living room. And yes, you guessed it, I snuck in another pregnancy test (I should’ve bought stock in pregnancy tests before this adventure).
For any of you who have ever taken a pregnancy test before, regardless of what you want the outcome to be, you know that those three minutes are the absolute longest minutes of your life. So, I set the test on the bathroom counter and went to fold laundry that was piled up on our bed. After about 5-6 minutes, I stood, frozen, at the bathroom door, staring across the room at the stick on the counter, terrified to go in. And then, I went in.
Am I being Punk’d again? Is Ashton Kutcher standing around the corner watching me on a hidden camera? (You youngsters might have to Google that to understand the reference). I actually looked, walked away, and then came back and looked again. Pregnant. And then the tears came, and I just leaned against the wall and cried those big, hard-to-breathe tears, gasping for air. I briefly thought I was having a panic attack. I probably cried for 2-3 minutes before my husband heard me over the television, and came rushing in.
When he came into the bedroom asking what was wrong, I just walked out of the bathroom and hugged him. I was crying so hard, I couldn’t even get any words out. You know when you cry so hard that snot and drool come rushing out, and you just wipe it on whoever you’re hugging at the time? Well, that happened. He had pretty much gotten used to my emotional ups and downs, and since I’d been crying a LOT through all of this process, he just sadly said, “You took another test, didn’t you… I told you to wait.”
I nodded yes and pointed into the bathroom. He walked in, looked down at the counter, and it felt like he was frozen for several seconds. Then, he smiled the biggest smile I’ve ever seen. He stood there for another few seconds, and then came back and hugged me until I thought my guts would explode out of my body. I can’t remember ever feeling so relieved and terrified and apprehensive and excited and nervous all at the same time before.
After a year and a half of trying, we saw the test we’d been waiting to see. I couldn’t sleep all night, and I got up the next morning with the biggest smile on my face EVER. I thought to myself, “We’re done. Finally. And I can’t believe it.” I always forget that once one adventure ends, another begins. And man, did it begin.
For those of you who are struggling with infertility – I see you, and no matter how it comes, I sincerely hope you get your snotty crying, hard-to-breathe moment of shock and excitement and success very soon.