71 to Cowes: Phase 3... the not-so-golden-ticket, aka Clomid

   It was with a certain sense of 'meh' that I returned to the Gynea clinic this time, in February of 2013, accompanied by Dave. I seem to remember it was the day after his birthday and valentines day. I was prepared. I felt like a bit of a veteran at this point, they couldn't have too many more nasty tricks up their sleeve to subject me to - I felt like a true warrior (albeit a slightly dis-enchanted one!). We were shown in and our consultant scanned my notes. I have to say I love the way they do this after you enter the room, as if to highlight that they are so busy they have had no time to acquaint themselves with who you are and what your problem might be before hand. In reality, it doesn't matter, the info is all there and I imagine most people don't even notice. In my case however I am always subjected to a look of bewilderment which quickly turns to amazement and some quick-fire questions about my medical history. This particular consultant, a cheery and friendly little chap who I was only lucky enough to encounter once, proceeded to tell Dave to be nice to me as I'd been through a lot and was lucky to have survived. I've always been quite matter of fact about what had happened so many years ago. Whilst I was aware of how precarious my situation had been, it was hearing him say that and his reaction of genuine wonder that I was even sitting before him that really brought it home. Anyway! We already knew the results of the Hysterosalpingogram were good and so he turned to the repeat blood tests. From what he could see they indicated that contrary to what we had been told after the last round I might not be ovulating, or at least only very rarely. You'd think that hearing something like that would maybe be upsetting, but to be honest, it felt like a glimmer of hope. I was tiring a bit of ace-ing tests. If I was truly ace-ing anything then we'd have at least two kids by now, so to actually find a problem was a relief. He suggested Clomid, a drug that jump starts ovulation by inhibiting oestrogen receptors causing a hormone surge that should cause the development of more than one follicle. In a normal cycle only one will develop and erupt at a time. He was careful to explain the potential side effects, which included at worst case scenario life threatening ones, before asking IF we were willing to try it. That really hit me... before whenever I've been prescribed anything, it has just been given, Ive never been asked if I would rather not. We looked at each other, we didn't need to talk about it, we both felt we were willing to try anything. As we exited his office, prescription in hand, I felt a little jittery. This could be it!... our golden ticket to parenthood. I didn't want to get my hopes up. I didn't want to hurt again and I told myself over and over that it was no big deal, it wouldn't work, and we'd be back for our next appointment to discuss the next move. But really, it was too late, and part of me dared to hope.

  We returned home with the drugs and awaited the appointed day. I researched, like crazy, the drug, the side effects, the success rates. I prepared as best I could, and most heart breakingly for me, I contacted a good friend of mine to explain that we would have to pass up on our last possible opportunity to visit her family in Hawaii before they moved on to their next posting. I was gutted. I'm an adventurer at heart and had longed to see the beautiful places she had photographed and described. The chance to do it whilst visiting wonderful friends that we missed so much was a once in a lifetime opportunity. All this came as we were literally on the brink of booking those flight, but when I did the maths (over and over again) it seemed to mean that we would be there during one of my cycles of Clomid and the risk just seemed to great. I mourned the loss of that trip for at least a week, but told myself that it would be worth it if we could be parents before the year was out...