We researched the REs that were recommended by the urologist. I even called my doctor to see if she had one she would recommend over the other. The research basically gave us nothing to make a decision one way or the other as all the reviews were about equal. So I made appointments to meet with both.
The first two weeks of the month were spent waiting anxiously for those appointments. Given what the urologist told us, I was nervous about jumping right into IVF but was trying to prepare myself for that process in case that was the route we took.
Both REs were optimistic about our chances of getting pregnant using IUI. One actually told us that he doesn't like to give guarantees, but he would bet on our chances. This news buoyed my spirits considerably and gave me so much hope. By the end of the week, we had chosen which RE we wanted to go with, and I made the appointment to meet with him again to plan out our first attempt at IUI.
I had accepted the reality that we needed help to conceive a baby. I wasn't thrilled about the situation, but I had reached a place of peace about it and was very confident that our journey would bring us a baby. As sure as I was the day I realized I wanted to marry John. I just knew.
Five days later I woke for my daily run and realized I hadn't started my period nor had my normal period-about-to-start symptoms. Not an incredibly huge clue since my period was due that day, but since my cycles always tend to run on the short side of the average 28 days, on a lark I decided to take a pregnancy test fully expecting a negative result given everything we had heard and learned in the past couple months.
The first test I took was the old dip the pee stick in urine and watch for two lines. Those tests can be somewhat difficult to interpret so when I got the second line - meaning positive - I blew it off and went for my run. But during my entire run, I kept thinking about that test. Was that line just an evaporation line or was it an honest-to-goodness positive line?
I couldn't be entirely sure. So when I got back from my run, I pulled out a digital pregnancy test out of my stash. You know, the ones that say Pregnant or Not Pregnant, just so I could be clear. I peed on the stick and then hopped in the shower for the few minutes it would take to show the results.
After I got out of the shower and saw the test. It said Pregnant - clear as shiny new glass - and I stood in the bathroom in shock for at least five minutes dripping water all over the floor.
The elation didn't come right away. Most of that day was spent in disbelief. I mean I had heard stories - countless stories - of couples who had been trying and was just about to start in vitro or IUI only to get suddenly pregnant on their own. I didn't think it would happen to us. I didn't DARE hope it would happen to us.
So that Tuesday when I had a positive test result, it was hard to believe. Also because I started psyching myself out with thoughts about false positives. And for that reason, I did not call my doctors - the RE or my regular lady bits doctor - with the news until the next day when I took three more pregnancy tests, and all three were positive. False positives can happen but are extremely, EXTREMELY rare five times in a row.
After a few days of shock, I started to feel excited. We were extremely blessed to get pregnant on our own, especially having just been to a support group meeting where I met with women many of whom had been trying for years.
I am ecstatic, happy, over the moon, thrilled beyond belief. Except for one thing... no more beer or whiskey. Which in truth didn't upset me that much except that my last beer for the summer was a Corona and not my favorite... Sam Adams Summer Ale.
But there's always next summer.