Baby Jesus Trumps St. Gerard

The frustration of all of this finally got to me this week.

Monday, I had an ultrasound and found out that my egg follicles weren't quite mature. I was to go back on Wednesday. And that was fine -- I didn't really expect it, but the follicles were close in size, so I knew that come Wednesday, as long as I didn't ovulate prematurely, I would be okay and we would be able to do the procedure.

Wednesday, I went back to the doctor, hCG in tow so I could get my shot. I had three mature follicles on the right side, a few immature ones on the left. I was expecting to be able to have them give me my shot, but first I had to get blood work done. I hadn't had to have that done in a few months, but because my Clomid dosage was increased, they needed new estrodial levels.

And that's when I almost lost it. It was one more thing, one more thing that I wasn't expecting to have to do. But I got over it pretty quickly and drove north to Ithaca, and up the west side of the lake to the hospital, instead of up to south hill to go to work. In the lab, I think I got a newbie. After two sticks, and two blown out veins with no blood to show for it, she called in for help from another technician. One stick later, in the other arm and with a very large needles, there was blood. I couldn't wait to see what kind of bruises I would get from this trip to the lab.

I waited for the blood work results to come in, and for the doctor's office to call. At this point, I couldn't even get excited that I would have the IUI the next day. I just couldn't be sure until I heard from Jan or Jodi. Finally Jodi called, and was excited about my levels. Over 1,000! So I just needed to get my shot and be at the doctor's office the next afternoon.

I called the health center to see if they could give me my shot. They had in the past, but the person I talked to was giving me the run around about needing permission from the director and finding my chart. I told her I just needed to know, because if she couldn't do it, then I would need to drive back to Elmira to have it done. It had to be done that day. Even though she was very frustrating and couldn't give me an answer, she did call me back rather quickly and said I could come over any time and she would do it. *sigh*

And so, after a hectic day or running around and getting poked and prodded, I could take a deep breath and try to get rid of the stress. I was going to try again the next day. For the fourth time, but the first time in consecutive months, I was about to try again to get pregnant.

Jill couldn't go with me, so I went alone. I headed down to Horseheads early and went to Panera for lunch. I had some yummy soup and relaxed. I was trying not to read into anything, but everything was different about this time.

At the office, on the table and in the stirrups, Jodi had a hard time finding the end of my cervix. My uterus was tipped more than usual, and I knew exactly when she found it. She hit it with the catheter that she uses to put the sperm in with. I took a deep breath, she apologized profusely, and then the cramping started. Once she had the baby batter in, she left me to lay flat for 20 minutes.

I called Bubbles for a little support. And we prayed together. I said a prayer to St. Gerard -- my new best friend, as I just found out he is the patron saint of fertility and motherhood. And then Bubbles, in her heavier-than-usual West Virginia drawl, "Dear baby Jesus, please let Ellie get knocked up. Amen."

Nothing like going right to the source. I hope she has an open line to Him.