I was bleary-eyed and sluggish when Chris and I walked into the doc’s office on Friday morning, but the signs of my sleep deprivation were quickly replaced with a giddy exuberance (think: birthday-girl-blowing-out-her-candles-and-making-a-wish-just-as-Dad-rolls-in-the-pink-bike-with-a-huge-bow kind of happiness).
We got the Rx — just call me Clomid Queen!
I asked all of the right questions:
Me: “Will I have heinous mood swings that will make my hubby want to leave the country?”
Doc: “No, you’ll be fine.”
Me: “Will there be any other side effects like sprouting a third arm or turning purple?”
Doc: “You may feel a little nauseated and have a mild headache, but other than that, you’ll be fine.”
Me: “Is this gonna’ work?”
Doc: “It just depends on your body, but no matter what, you’ll be fine.”
I did all the right things:
• I squeezed Chris so tight I think his ribs are still realigning.
• I immediately found my mom (who works on the hospital floor above the doc’s office) and told her the good news.
• I took on a massive weekend project (decorating my little sister’s very first rent house) to keep my mind occupied and away from my obsessive-compulsive thoughts about the small slip of paper I had tucked in my purse.
And now it’s just a waiting game.
Here’s how it works: I chill out (sure, like that’s going to happen, lol) until every woman’s favorite “aunt” drops by for a visit, then I can start my first cycle. There are five 50mg pills (which, since insurance doesn’t shell out one cent to help with infertility treatments, packs a $400 wallop to the wallet, although Chris just called and said he confirmed with the doc that we could opt for the generic brand — only $150). I take one pill a day on days five through nine of my cycle. Then, starting on day 11 and every other day through day 15, when I “should” be in what I’ve dubbed “the O zone” (ovulation), Chris and I, well, um, ya’ know, do the laundry (always nice to toss in a Friends TV reference when possible).
On day 26 I’ll swing by a lab and offer up my VERY-HARD-TO-STICK veins so that a needle-happy phlebotomist can draw some blood to determine whether or not I’ve ovulated. The results are then faxed to the doc and the doc will then call me and let me if I was in fact in “the O zone.” If I was, we wait and see if Aunt Flo visits again; if she’s late, I pee on a stick and pray for a positive sign. If she shows, we rev up for cycle No. 2. If I wasn’t “O” then the doc will increase my Rx to 100mg and then I’ll repeat steps 1-100 until we hit we get it right.
As of today, I have (according to the best of my calendar-counting abilities - who knew there was soooo much math involved in making a baby … lol!) exactly 14 days to fill until the “fun” begins.
Not sure what I’ll do to whittle away the hours (Shelley would say “DO YOUR WORK!”). I do need to wrap up September’s feature (and work on my novel), but aside from that, who knows … maybe I’ll create a “how-to” crown kit for other local ladies who are striving (or are) Clomid queens. The fabulous little number sitting atop my head was handcrafted by Sabrina, our art director, Laura’s, daughter. (Thanks Bri Bri, you rock!). I look worn out (a weekend of decorating in the sweltering Texas heat will do that to ya’), but I couldn’t post another blog without looking like “royalty” (another shout out to the wonderful DallasChild paparazzo, Susan, for the pic!).
Chris and I don’t know that this medication is going to give us that “nudge” we need, but we’re hopeful — we’re trying to have some fun with a situation that can be anything but. So, until the stick says prepare for parenthood, I’ll be the one with the crown.
Have a marvelous Monday!
much love~
tessa
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