Today I decided to start a new blog. This blog is mostly for myself, to document my story of fertiliy, or, as it turns out, infertility. I thought my days of TTC (Trying To Concieve) were long in my past, but that ugly monster just grew a new head and decided to rear them both in my face. So here it is, the story of how I got here, struggling to have kids. And hopefully, from here, my journey to another child.

It may be helpful to read it in chronological (reverse) order.

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February 7, 2010

Clomid

Clomid is the universal, catch-all drug prescribed to most women with infertility. It may or may not relate at all to what is going on with her body, or what cannot be diagnosed, but if she can't get pregnant and it's been at least 12 months, her doctor will probably prescribe her Clomid.

Technically, Clomid is really only to be used to induce ovulation in women who don't ovulate at all. But it is also given to women who have poor quality ovulations or whose ovulations are uncertain. This was the case with me. I have always had regular periods, and I have always been able to tell when I ovulated. I would have a twinge of pain, maybe for 5-10 minutes, right in the ovary that was ovulating that month.

But after a series of blood tests, carefully timed to check the hormone levels in my body at ovulation, the doctor said it wasn't clear whether my ovulations were of good quality. My progesterone level was only 1.5. It should be 10 to indicate that ovulation has occured, and, though this idea is controversial among fertility specialists, a level of 10 progesterone must be achieved in order to sustain a pregnancy.

I had only been TTC for six months at this point. And doctors, as a rule, don't consider you infertile until you have TTC'ed for a whole year. But I was already 30 years old, and I had carefully tracked my cycles for six months, and we'd tested everything else, and I was VERY persistant. So my doctor prescribed me Clomid.

The first month I took 50 mgs. It made me kind of loopy. By that I mean that I was hyper emotional. I would cry at the slightest thing. Not things that were real, things that should make me cry. But random things, like Hallmark commercials or long distance commercials. Or when teaching my history students about the Emancipation Proclamation. It was kind of embarrassing.

Another side effect was that my ovulations became much more painful. Instead of a few minutes of pain, I began to have several days of pain and swelling and tenderness leading up to ovulation. It was uncomfortable. But at least it made it much more clear when "all systems were go."

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