Talk About Ovary-acting

The hysterosalpingogram (HSG) test is a test to determine if your fallopian tubes are blocked. If they are, sperm won’t be able to reach the egg and if sperm somehow made it through, the fertilized egg wouldn’t be able to get to the uterus.

I completely worked myself up for this ordeal by talking to people that had this test done, and of course, looking it up online and on social media. I learned that their stories were contradictory – from not feeling anything at all to the most excruciating pain that made them blackout. I intended to get reassurance to feel more prepared, but that backfired.

Everyone’s experience is so different, so if you’re going to do this test too, here’s some sound advice: Don’t talk to anyone except your doctor about it and stop reading this post. 😅

The nurse from my RE’s office instructed me to take Aleve 30 minutes to 1 hour prior. I took 2 Aleve pills 45 minutes before. I think this is important to mention because I know two women that did not take a pain reliever beforehand and they had horror stories.

My HSG test was done in the radiology department with three doctors – my Reproductive Endocrinologist, a Radiologist, and another doctor just for fun. Haha, I don’t know actually why the other doctor was there. Plus a nurse and a radiology student.

At first, the procedure was similar to a normal papsmear. I laid on my back on the exam table with my knees bent and feet up on the edge of the table because this table didn’t have stirrups. My RE inserted a speculum into my vagina and cleaned my cervix. That’s where the similarity and familiarity ended.

It was good to have my RE, instead of a Radiologist do the test because she is very experienced and knew that my cervix is tilted. BUT she didn’t remember which way it was tilted so when she put in the catheter it took her two attempts. She said she’s usually a one try kind of girl and for me to remember the positioning 2:00. It felt like a sharp pain. See my face below for reference.

She removed the speculum and the nurse and student dragged the sheet under me so I slid up on the table and was positioned under the fluoroscopy camera. My RE waited for the Radiologist to be ready before she blew up the tiny ballon at the end of the catheter to the size of a pea. That sounds tiny, but it felt huge inside of me. Then she filled my uterine cavity, fallopian tubes and peritoneal cavity with dye from the catheter. When the dye was filling my fallopian tubes it felt like EXTREMELY bad cramps, but only for one minute. Once it was over it felt like normal period cramping. When the dye was going through my fallopian tubes, the Radiologist was taking the fluoroscopic images. 

It was also good to have my RE do it because she saw the results instantaneously. She said my left fallopian tube was totally clear because the dye spilled out quickly. She wasn’t sure about my right tube so I had to roll all the way over and back onto my back to move the dye around and get more images taken, then she saw that my right tube was open too.

Side note: I was annoyed that no one told me there is a possibility of spotting because I would’ve brought my period panties with me. Sustainability! I had to use one of their huge, thick pads that probably was equivalent to more than 3 plastic bags.

I went to my RE’s office afterwards to have an ultrasound done to see how the Letrozole I took last week has been working. I took this fertility drug again to prepare for another IUI if my tubes are open. The ultrasound confirmed that the dye leaked out of my tubes, showed that my follicles were growing and on their way to be ready for ovulation, and that the egg would be coming from the left fallopian tube this cycle. This is perfect since my left tube was very clear.

About an hour later, I was lightheaded and then had a bad headache. I slept on and off for the rest of the day. I’m writing this the day after. I’m cool now.

Negative

As a generally upbeat, optimistic person, it’s relatively easy for me to look on the bright side of things. I went into this fertility treatment process self-assured that I am in a healthy state of mind. I readily opened up to family to the extent that I explained the IUI procedure to my 12-year-old boy cousin in front of his dad. I happily share my fertility journey on social media as publicly as I share about impersonal topics like what I ate for breakfast.

I felt positive, yet realistic, knowing that IUI may not work. I was excited that we took the next step. And even throughout the day of the IUI procedure, I actually had fun. John and I laughed a lot.

Then, my pregnancy blood test came back negative.
I learned it’s hard to stay positive once you get a negative.

How am I doing? I’m experiencing a myriad of emotions.

Disappointed that it wasn’t successful.
Apprehensive about telling people how I really feel.
Irritated by comments like ‘Don’t worry. It’ll happen. You can try again.’ because these comments dismiss the fact that I am back to square one after the rough trek it took to get here.
Shocked at how sensitive I’m being even though I know these comments are meant to be supportive.
Discouraged because I don’t want to go through more testing.
Scared that my fertility issue might be more serious.
Guilty because I want to be done trying.

Crossing my fingers, toes, everything except my legs!

I requested to have the IUI procedure done over winter break since I had two weeks off and wouldn’t have to take any personal or sick days off of work for appointments.

I also planned to go to Maui for the holidays, so I was hoping I could have my cake and eat it too. Once the first day of my period came, and I contacted my doctor, the timing allowed me to buy a one-way plane ticket to fly to Maui the next day – the first official day of winter break. This was the great timing because I got to be with my ‘ohana for Christmas, New Years, and the days in-between. As opposed to being home alone on Oahu while John was at work mulling over fertility and going down the rabbit hole of googling.

Once I received the call from my doctor that my hormones were at the level to show that I will be ovulating soon, I booked my flight back to Oahu for the morning of January 2nd.

Upon arrival, I went home to unpack, take a shower, and wear my pineapple earrings that my friend got for me when she discovered that pineapples are widely known as the symbol for infertility. I also wore pineapple panties and pineapple socks for more good vibes. 🙂

We first went to the Reproductive Biology Lab, where John gave his semen sample. Then we went to my doctor’s office while the lab was doing the sperm wash. Sperm wash is a process where the sperm is separated from the semen. This makes the sperm more concentrated and enhances fertility capacity. We had to confirm 4x that the vial of sperm, in fact, belonged to John.

I had to get my blood drawn. I should have asked what they were testing for, but didn’t. Side note: My doctor said she prefers to use a catheter from Australia because it has two openings at the end instead of the American version that only has one.

Finally, the IUI procedure! The only instructions I was given to prepare was to have a full bladder. My doctor had John hold the ultrasound tool called the abdominal transducer on my abdomen (Yay no Wanda!), and we could see that there was fluid behind my very full bladder, which meant that I was ovulating. She filled a syringe with John’s sperm, connected it to the catheter, inserted a speculum into my vagina, carefully inserted the catheter all the way up to the top of my uterus, and transferred the sperm.

I laid there for 20 minutes until I couldn’t handle it and had to pee. Don’t worry, my doctor said the sperm couldn’t go anywhere, and I didn’t actually need to lay there. I did for good measure.

How am I doing? Physically – no different, emotionally – a little excited, but cautious, and mentally – anxious for the 2 week wait to be over so I can find out if I’m pregnant!

Waiting

A considerable part of trying to get pregnant is waiting.

I recently learned that the following may not be common knowledge for people that haven’t tried to conceive or for those that are regularly sexually active and “accidentally” got pregnant… 

Every cycle, we have had to: 

  1. Wait for my period to start 
  2. Wait for my fertile window to try
  3. Wait for 2 weeks to find out if we were successful

Now that we got that lesson out of the way… Obviously, I’m not pregnant yet, so we have gone through this wait period every month for over a year. This current cycle’s wait period so far has emotionally felt a lot longer as I anticipate each next step of this fertility treatment process.

In the month of December, I have had to:

  1. Wait for my second fertility appointment (December 5th) 
  2. Wait 2 weeks for my period to start (December 20th), then take a medication called Letrozole for 5 days to stimulate my ovaries
  3. Wait for my doctor to tell me when to do bloodwork to check my hormone levels (December 26th)
  4. Wait for bloodwork results (December 27th, Verdict: My hormones weren’t ready)
  5. Wait for my doctor to tell me when to do bloodwork again (December 30th)
  6. Wait for bloodwork results (December 31st, Good news: My hormones are ready!)

P.S. A handful of people have asked me when my next blog post will be. It’s nice to know that I’m not the only one waiting for something to happen! 😉

Bloodwork Results

My Prolactin was high, so I had to fast for 12 hours and go to a diagnostic lab to get blood drawn again. That sucked, but it came back normal. My glucose is high and my vitamin D is low. I have to eat less sugar, red meat, and processed foods. I also have to take a vitamin D supplement. I thought I get a lot of Vitamin D from being in the sun, but my doctor said that’s not enough for anyone.

I don’t have all of the factors to be diagnosed with PCOS, but having some of the factors like having PCO-like ovaries is still a problem. I have to keep taking the Ovasitol to help with this. It makes me feel dizzy.

My doctor asked if my end goal is reproduction. A resounding yes.

I’m going to try Intrauterine Insemination, also known as IUI, also jokingly known as turkey basting, also made famous in Jane the Virgin.

Another 2 week wait until the first day of my period. Stay tuned.

Women get pregnant for free!

PSA: Women get pregnant for free! One more time for the people in the back, Women get pregnant for free!

While many women are getting pregnant naturally, others are paying for fertility treatments, medications, evaluations, etc. These should be free too! Many insurance companies consider fertility treatments as optional. How dare they!

I’ll be updating this post periodically to keep a running record of how much we are spending.

Semen Analysis $100
Pap Smear $60
Medial Center Parking $3
First Fertility Visit Co-pay $20
Medical Center Parking $3
Ovasitol $65
Second Fertility Visit Co-pay $20
Medical Center Parking $3
Vitamin D3 $17
Letrozole Co-pay $5
Lab Tests (bloodwork) $175
Sperm Wash $95
Intrauterine Insemination $200
Medical Center Parking $2
Lab Tests (bloodwork) $54
Lab Tests (bloodwork) $54
Ultrasound $223
Ovasitol Refill $65
Letrozole Refill Co-pay $5
Aleve $7
HSG Test $165
Radiology Visit $25
Lab Tests (bloodwork) TBD
Ultrasound $165
Medical Center Parking $4
Sperm Wash $95
Intrauterine Insemination #2 $200
Lab Tests (bloodwork) TBD
Medical Center Parking $4
Progesterone Co-pay $5

Grand total costs as of 3/8/2020: $1,839

What to Say

Here are some quotes from my amazing friends that have supported me from the start of my fertility journey. They make me feel warm and fuzzy.

“Part of your upbringing and history made you who you are today. You accomplished so many amazing feats and your ability to help people is partly derived from your own experience and pain. Sometimes our purpose here on earth does not have to depend on the length of time.”

“I support whatever decision you make! I hope all of this isn’t consuming you. I hope that you get the clarity you need to continue whatever path you choose and try.”

“I don’t think I would take that news like you are, but you are one of the most upbeat, positive people I know.”

“I think it’s a hard topic cause you don’t want to say something that makes the other person feel bad but at the same time you want to be helpful but don’t fully know how.” (This honesty IS helpful!)

“I am sorry that sometimes in my attempt to be helpful, I can dig myself into a place of words that might hurt you. Not my intent at all. I hope as you continue this journey of self discovery that you don’t ever forget how beautiful, smart and unique you are! Any feelings of fear or uncertainty are valid, normal and important since they give us the opportunity to face our emotions head on. You can come to me anytime to rejoice, complain or vent. I will be here. I think it’s beautiful that you are acknowledging every step and that you are being gentle with yourself. I admire your strength for allowing yourself to be open to this process and I feel grateful that you choose to share this with me.”

I’m eternally grateful to have you by my figurative side. <3 I wish Hawaii wasn’t oceans away from all of you!

What Not to Say

I love my ‘ohana and friends. With that said, they unintentionally, totally innocently, have said things that hit a nerve in regards to fertility. I’m quoting them here. (My bad for putting y’all on blast, but this is a teachable moment for everyone! And please don’t feel like you’re walking on eggshells when we talk; I won’t quote you again. Maybe.)

“You don’t have to try so hard. All it takes is one time.”
At this point, I have lost count of how many times we had sex with the goal of getting pregnant. The number has gotta be over 100. So no, it doesn’t only take one time for everyone.

“So-and-so and so-and-so are pregnant. Did you ask them how they got pregnant?”
They probably got pregnant by having sex. If they took other steps, they haven’t publicly shared them, and I’m not going to ask them if they did.

“Do you think IVF is like playing God?”
We thankfully live in an age of modern medicine. Do you think getting a heart transplant is like playing God? I don’t.

“I’m so sorry to hear that.”
You don’t have to apologize. I don’t want anyone to feel sorry for me. Just to give you some stats, 6.1 million women in America have difficulty getting pregnant or staying pregnant and 1 in 8 couples struggle with fertility. This is common! It’s just not commonly talked about. I don’t need pity, I want support.

“Happy anniversary! I’m glad to see your travels in Europe, but you really need to have a baby. You don’t want to wait long like I did.”
This was in an anniversary card that I was initially so happy to receive. I know she was coming from a good place, but wow. Just, wow.

“What do you think about adoption?”
I think adoption is a wonderful option for those that decide this is what they want to do. I, myself, am not currently considering adoption. Adopting would, of course, allow me to have a baby, but it doesn’t change the fact that I may be unable to get pregnant. More to this, but I don’t want to possibly offend anyone reading this and get quoted in their What Not to Say blog post.

“See. You should have gotten pregnant earlier.”
Yeahhhhhh… Ok…

“You deserve to have a family.”
I completely bawled when I read this text. If you know me, I’m not a big crier. This was the first time I’ve cried and actually, the first time I felt sad about all of this. It never occurred to me that not having a baby could equate to not being a family. As I’m writing this, I don’t think I considered John and me as a family. Not because I don’t think of a couple as a family, but because we both have huge extended families that when I think about our ‘ohana, there are so many more people than just the two of us. And if we don’t have a baby, we still have everyone else that has been with us all along.

Semen Analysis and Transvaginal Ultrasound

When I first met my fertility doctor, she introduced herself and hugged me. I tend to say what I’m thinking out loud without filtering first, so I immediately said, “I’ve never hugged a doctor before.” She quickly replied, “If we’re not hugging people, what are we doing here?” LOVE. She had me follow her out of the exam room into her office and I noticed she was wearing cowboy boots with her scrubs and white coat. DOUBLE LOVE. Before going over the results of John’s semen analysis and my medical history, she said, “I know that having to come and see me is awful. And I know that so far this isn’t working out the way you imagined and hoped it would. The good news is that you haven’t tried anything yet, so now we’re here, and we can get started.” TRIPLE LOVE.

To summarize the science-y mumbo-jumbo, here’s what I learned:

John’s Semen Analysis Results

“Normal”John’s SampleMy Commentary
200ml250mlYay! He has a lot!
20 million per ml 66 million per ml Whoa! He has a lot, a lot!
30% good sperm10% good sperm10% of 66 MILLION is only a tad less than 30%  of 20 million if you do the math

Basically, there are some morphologies of his semen, such as bent necks, that resulted in a lower percentage of 10%. However, my doctor said this is slightly less than “normal” and is only a small issue.

My Medical History (only the highlights)
I have a 32-day menstrual cycle. This is longer than a typical cycle of 28 days. Therefore, my doctor thinks I ovulate between days 18-20 instead of the typical days 14-16. She thinks this is a sign of polycystic ovarian syndrome (PCOS).

My prominent family history of cancer on both my mom and dad’s sides is concerning. Especially because my mom and three aunts had cancer at premenopausal (under 40) ages. My doctor asked, “Do you want to do genetic testing to find out if you have a cancer gene?” I said, “I don’t know. DO I??” (I’m currently considering it.)

Transvaginal Ultrasound
After my doctor explained John’s results and went over my history, I had my first ultrasound done. In the movies, you see women have gel rubbed on their belly, and the doctor uses a device to gently roll around in the gel, then you can see the woman’s insides. I surprisingly had to be bottom-naked, put my feet up in stirrups, and get a wand stuck up my vagina. (I googled this and women are fondly calling the wand, Wanda hah!) It was extra special because my fertility doctor had another doctor and the receptionist come in too, so all three of them got an up-close, personal view of my nether regions. I later learned that they can only do the belly ultrasound when your uterus isn’t empty like mine and the baby is big enough to be detected by it. My inner psychic foresees many more ultrasounds with Wanda to come. 

My doctor said, and I quote, “Your ovaries are beautiful! And you’re SUPER fertile!” That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. Along with that good news, there was not so good news. She noticed some blood engorgements around one of my ovaries, so that strengthened her initial thought that I may have PCOS. And she found that my cervix is pointing down. (What??? Someone remind me to Google that later because I’m on a roll.)

Bloodwork
I had to get 10 vials of blood drawn to check for levels of various hormones, Vitamin D, Prolactin, testosterone, and more.

Next Steps
My doctor considered doing a test to check my Fallopian tubes but said that although it’s not a terrible test, it’s uncomfortable. She asked, “What should we do first? Check your Fallopian tubes or try to get you pregnant? Check your Fallopian tubes or try to get you pregnant? Hmm… let’s try to get you pregnant!” Ok, I’m down.

I have a follow-up appointment in 3 weeks to go over my bloodwork results. In the meantime, my doctor prescribed that I start taking Ovasitol for 3 months. It is an “inositol powder scientifically formulated to promote menstrual regularity and normal ovarian function.” Sounds good to me.

Appointment #1

As I was sitting in the half burgundy, half flowery-wallpapered (like a Caboodle) lobby of my reproductive endocrinologist’s office, many thoughts ran through my head. One thought was, ‘Remember when you took the morning after pill because you were so freaked out that you might’ve gotten accidentally pregnant? Welp. That was silly.’

If only younger me knew the chances of me getting pregnant were slim, that would have saved a lot of headache of trying different forms of birth control. I tried the classic, 6th-grade-health-class-taught, and easy-to-purchase-from-anywhere method first, condoms. Then upped my game and went on the pill, followed by the NuvaRing. I felt like that was my first step in being a real, responsible adult. Until I had complications. Thanks, adulting.

As I sat on the beige loveseat that looked like it came from the doctor’s living room, I wondered if I could pee or if I needed to save it for a urine sample. Another thought, for as long as I can remember, I didn’t want to have kids. My mom died of stomach cancer when she was 36 and I was 2 years old. I had this (irrational?) fear of history repeating itself—I would have a baby, die at 36, and my baby would have to fend for itself. Just kidding, shout out to my grandma for raising me.

It took approximately 10 years of being with John for me to start feeling comfortable with the idea of having a baby. I enjoy being DINKS (Dual Income No Kids, like the purple neighbors from Doug on Nickelodeon), but now wouldn’t mind sharing our lives with a mini-me or mini-John. Let’s be real, a mini-John would be adorable.

At my first appointment to start figuring out what the F is up with my fertility, it dawned on me how crazy it is that we’ve intentionally been trying to get pregnant for a year. Who does that?! A positive of not being pregnant is that I’m still able to try a variety of poke bowls and drink beer to my heart’s content. Small wins!

I leave you with an ultrasound of my empty uterus for you to look at while I digest what I learned at my appointment.