Dear Future Baby
Hi, baby. Today is your dad’s and mine anniversary. We were married three years ago in a hot June Tennessee day. Besides the humidity, soaking the foreheads and underarms of most of our guests, it was a perfect day. At this time on that day, we were dancing under twinkling lights and blazing stars.
On this day, we slept until 10 a.m., a luxury us non-parents can afford, went for a walk through a forest preserve, and then dined on the city’s best burger. We finished the day with ice cream, as it has always been a staple in our relationship, including on the days we got engaged and married.
We talked about you today. We wondered it would be like to throw you in a carrier and go for a long hike. Or, how your dad would play catch with you. Or, how in just a few short months, you might be coming to join us.
This past Saturday, we had our second round of IUI. We did a medicated cycle this time, meaning I took two doses of Clomid each day for five days to help encourage the release of the eggs. Dr. Google told me that a woman will usually ovulate 5–10 days after the final dose of Clomid, and my doctor had scheduled a check-in appointment on day 3.
I’ve been to the fertility clinic so many times that I have acquired a favorite ultrasound tech, and for this appointment, I was lucky enough to be assigned to her. She started with my left ovaries, and we saw a several enlarged follicles, with the biggest at 14mm. That seemed pretty good, and I figured they would have me come in two days later to see how they’ve grown. However, when she moved to my right ovaries, we both gasped. There was a large black blob on the screen. “That one is your baby,” she said. It measured at 22.
It looks like I was ready to go.
The clinic closes at 4:30 p.m., and I was checking my phone every minute when I hadn’t heard from them by 4:00 p.m. I was at work, and probably shouldn’t have had my cell phone on the sales floor, but this call was more important. When it was 4:30, I started to panic. Why hadn’t I heard? I opened the patient portal to send them a message and saw one waiting for me.
We will call soon. Don’t worry. We haven’t forgotten about you.
I couldn’t tell if this was a message they send all of their patients, of if I have built a reputation of being a high-strung patient. Either way, I felt better but continued to tightly grip my phone until I got the call.
As expected, it was time for the procedure. I needed to take a trigger shot that night, start a new medication, get a COVID-19 rapid test, and then come in for my IUI on Saturday.
I had purchased a trigger shot for our last round but ended up not using it because I ovulated on my own, so thankfully, I had the shot ready to go. That night, after work, I prepped the medicine, watched a video that my doctor gave me, and gave myself the shot. Your father was at work so I was alone to do this. Giving yourself shots is common in the fertility world, but most people don’t have to do it. It didn’t hurt, but it is a bit unnerving to shove a needle into your abdomen.
The next day, I picked up my medicine and went to get the COVID-19 test. Because both your father and I work in retail, we are at risk for exposure, and even though I have had the vaccine, I must produce a negative test before the nurse will administer the procedure. The pandemic makes other things trickier, too, like your father is not allowed to come into the room with me and we always have to wear masks. Thankfully, the test was negative, and we could proceed.
Our appointment for was 8 a.m. Saturday. Until we had our first IUI, I did not know the clinic was even open then as they don’t usually give you weekend options when you are scheduling appointments. However, we know from the last time that weekends are incredibly busy at the clinic, with many coming in for either IUI or IVF. Your uncle’s family came to town the night before, and it was a bit of a drag to leave them for a few hours, but we all want you to be part of the family so bad that a few hours of missed playtime was a worthy sacrifice.
Your father went in first, presenting his sample to be stripped down to the best of the best. Then, 45 minutes later, I went in. The first time we did the procedure, I was called in immediately, but this time I had to wait nearly a half hour. My full bladder and the loud woman in the reception area made the wait uncomfortable, but finally my name was called.
Like last time, I held the pineapple and baby dust key chain as the nurse forced the speculum into my body and then threaded a catheter into my uterus. The specimen was emptied into the catheter, and within 90 seconds, it was over.
Now, we wait.
I have started the progesterone again and have a pregnancy test already scheduled. I am not allowed to run or drink, and I must limit my caffeine intake. Otherwise, there isn’t much I can do but wait. Which, as they say, is the hardest part.
I hope you are coming to us baby. I hope that all we’ve done is enough.
I hope, baby.
Love you!
