Little Cone Flower

August – September 2021

The end of summer into the fall brought a lot of heartache. Due to the lack of success with Clomid, we found ourselves sitting at my August follow-up appointment exhausted. Since we didn’t become pregnant in the three months as expected, it was suggested I receive an ultrasound of my ovaries, an HSG test, and for Brian to do a semen analysis.

That week, I had an ultrasound of my ovaries.

As I think back, I remember saying to Brian as we were leaving the hospital how it was crazy to think the next time we sat for an ultrasound like that, it would be of our baby. In hindsight, I was very wrong, but it’s interesting to remember how I still had hope. We both did. Even though the grief and anger outweighed our hope, it was still there. There was still a part of us that felt infertility wouldn’t touch us. This mindset changed along the way and we began to believe we were going to be a part of every small percentage of misfortune. To some degree, we weren’t wrong. That’s the thing with infertility, it picks away at you slowly. Your bucket of hope springs the smallest leak and depending on where your infertility path takes you, the internal and external pressures drain the hope with each diagnosis.

I received my results from the ultrasound a few days later. It came back as normal besides a small cyst on my right ovary, which my doctor said could suggest endometriosis. She recommended we set up a laparoscopy surgery to confirm or deny this hypothesis and remove anything if needed. My initial reaction was dread as I knew endometriosis could add a whole new layer of infertility struggle. Brian suggested we do some research and see how we wanted to proceed with the doctor’s recommendation. After a little Google search, we found that endometriosis is usually paired with painful periods, heavy bleeding, and pelvic pain, which I’ve fortunately never experienced. I was also reminded that a laparoscopy would be the same surgery I received when I had my gallbladder removed.

For those of you who don’t know, laparoscopy is a surgery where you are put fully under anesthesia and have four holes cut into your abdomen. The main hole is through your belly button for the laparoscope and the other three are in a semi-circle around your belly button for the different tools needed. I honestly get the heebie-jeebies just typing this out. All of that to say, gallbladder removal is considered a minor surgery, and yet I had weeks of recovery and did not want to relive that experience if I didn’t have to.

Since we had a semen analysis and HSG test already scheduled, we decided to wait for those results before making any major decisions.

The semen analysis was an at-home procedure where we had to deliver it to the lab within 30 minutes of production. After a few days, I received a voicemail from my doctor with the results. I remember feeling dread alongside relief when she said “There was no sperm”. The combination of dread and relief may sound confusing, but I’ve come to realize infertility brings on a lot of conflicting emotions. I felt dread at the concept of telling Brian there might be something not functioning on his end of things but felt relief that maybe we both had something not working. The idea of us both having something wrong also sounds like a scenario that would not bring relief. However, the relief didn’t come from the potential increased complication of our situation, but more so from the feeling of not being alone.

At this point of the journey, we were eight months into exploring infertility. Eight months of being told my body wasn’t doing what it was “supposed” to be doing. Eight months of negative pregnancy tests. Although I had support from those I let in on our journey, there was a disconnect from how emotionally traumatizing infertility is. At this stage, even Brian, who saw our situation firsthand, couldn’t wrap his head around why I was so hyper-focused and disheartened about our experience so far. I don’t blame anyone for this disconnect, because I had the same thoughts and reactions when I wasn’t the one sitting in the infertility chair. This diagnosis made me feel a split second of relief because although trying for a baby was an ‘us’ journey, it had become a ‘me’ problem. I could even say the relief stemmed from a selfish part of me, but the thought of sharing the infertility burden seemed a little less harsh.

All of that to say, our initial conclusion was that something must have gone wrong on the lab’s end of the analysis. We didn’t know there was a difference between semen and sperm and honestly believed they were interchangeable words for the same thing. In our minds, if stuff was being ejaculated, then there were millions of what we always called ‘half babies’ ready to do their job of impregnating. However, we found out that semen is the visible vessel that carries the sperm out of the body. This means the quality and quantity of semen don’t always indicate the success of the production of the microscopic sperm inside. So with this, a second semen analysis was scheduled.

In the meantime, I had my HSG test. For those of you who don’t know, an HSG test is where you lie underneath an X-ray machine while the doctor inserts a small tube with a deflated balloon on the end into your cervix. Once inserted, the balloon is expanded and X-ray dye is injected into your uterus and pushed into your fallopian tubes. I remember the doctor telling me I might feel some slight cramping similar to period cramps. However, it was a much more intense cramp than what I had experienced with my period and initially made me flinch and tense. As the dye was inserted and made its way through my tubes, the doctor was able to show me my X-ray and explain that my uterus was a good shape, and size and my tubes were clear. I remember walking out of the X-ray room to Brian in the hallway feeling relieved my uterus looked good, but nervous the semen analysis may have been correct.

The second semen analysis concluded the same results of ‘no sperm’, so we were set up for an appointment with my doctor to discuss the next steps. Based on my results from the HSG test she quickly disregarded her suggestion of a laparoscopy and the potential of endometriosis. She felt that we should meet with a urologist to discover the possible reason behind there being no sperm. Typically when a semen analysis results in nothing being present, there is either an obstruction blocking flow or a non-obstructive cause that is either hormonal or a genetic mutation. She followed this up by stating it was better to have it be a male issue, than female because it would be easier to solve and get pregnant. At the time I interpreted her statement as in male infertility issues were less complicated and could be solved, ending in a biological child. What she meant, was male factor infertility can easily be diagnosed as obstructive or non-obstructive, and depending on the outcome we would be able to use Brian’s or a donor’s sperm to get pregnant. Needless to say, I was given a false hope that we were almost out of the woods of infertility.

After a lot of discussion and reflection, we decided to switch clinics. My doctor’s decision to throw me on Clomid without testing me or Brian, her instant jump to schedule a laparoscopy after completing my ultrasound, and her continued overpromising rubbed us the wrong way. This led us to book an appointment with a urologist at U of M. The only downside to this switch was we couldn’t get an appointment until November.

So there we sat, two months after my August follow-up appointment, officially in the depths of infertility.