Cycle Day 63

I am officially on cycle day 63. For you lucky folks not concerned with fertility, that means my "cycle started" (um, I got my period) on July 7th and has not re-started since then.

No, it's not because I am pregnant.

It's because my ovaries are, well, constipated.

I have PCOS, meaning that my ovaries don't, you know, ovary. Or ovulate, to be more accurate. So the little eggs that would eventually turn into adorably witty mini-me's stay tucked away in their nice little home. Maybe they are just lazy. Maybe they heard what a tough go round the last egg that was impregnated had. But whatever they do, they don't, ahem, present themselves for service.

As you know, we've tried a few different medications, including the Metformin that I am not taking. I have ovulated on both Clomid and Metformin, but for whatever reason, nothing is sticking, if you will. Neither medicine has made me ovulate dependably or predictably, making scheduling some, um, quality time difficult.

I'm getting really frustrated. No, I'm not really getting frustrated...I'm more getting...dejected. And very sad. I'm nearly ready to leave this whole procreation mess behind and look at other options like fostering and/or adopting. SuperDad is not so ready to move on. Even so, I almost called it quits a couple of weeks ago. I mean, it's been almost a year (a full year next week) since we started trying to conceive, and it's not like my body's all that good at this pregnancy thing anyway. We're not getting much help -- and no support -- from my OB/GYN, especially considering that you have to fight a small war to get in to see him in a timely manner (and fertility issues tend to be rather time-sensitive). My current OB/GYN was basically selected by default anyway. (Since the high-risk folks only see you when you are pregnant, I went to the first-available regular doc at Vandy.) Our insurance has absolutely zero coverage for fertility treatments, and we couldn't even consult a specialist without having to, oh, sell a car or something. (I've seen enough specialist bills in my time!)

But then last week I stopped into a medical arts building here in Spring Hill to make a dentist appointment for Becca, and lo and behold, a new OB/GYN practice has opened there...and one of the doctors is the guy who delivered Becca during his residency at Vandy! So I got to thinking...

Sure, he's young, so he doesn't have as much experience. He's not a Vandy SuperDoctor, though he was trained by them. He's a doctor of osteopathic medicine and not an MD, which is different for me. (DO's apparently have very similar training as MD's - same boards, residencies, etc., and can specialize in anything, but they tend to take a more holistic approach.) That's probably a good thing for me. The main office is in Franklin, not far from John's work, and he's got the smaller Spring Hill office a few days a month. And, besides, he's seen the inside of my uterus. Not many doctors can claim such, um, intimate knowledge. Can't really beat that. And when I called, they were able to get my in this quarter. That's improvement.

We've got an appointment with him today. I'm excited to have some fresh eyes to take a look at me and our efforts and maybe offer a little more in the way of options or support. I don't expect to walk out pregnant or anything, but I have a feeling he'll at least be willing to work with us a little more instead of saying, "Let me write you a referral to my fine reproductive endocrinologist colleagues. Don't worry; they can work out a payment plan for you." Ugh. Or maybe he'll say, "Are you crazy? I saw you last time around! Don't try this again!" I don't know. But I'm excited to have the conversation about my fertility, and that's saying something these days.