Tag Archives: sperm

Cycle 17, IUI #2.

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The deed has been done. IUI#2 went off without a hitch (other than a stubborn cervix), and I had 59.1 million sperm injected straight into my uterus. Fertility Friend says I ovulated on the day of the IUI, and I am now three DPO. I wore my second pair of fertility socks from Amy at Dwelling on Dreams. This pair is particularly awesome. Grumpy. That’s what I’m going to be if this cycle is a bust. Fucking grumpy.

That’s right. Grumpy.

I’ve had some weird and disparate fertility signs since the IUI. First my cervix didn’t act like it normally does, which consists of clamping down hard and tight after ovulation. I also had some fertile mucus after my suspected ovulation. That freaked me out, and I spent some time obsessing about timing. Yesterday, at two DPO, I experienced some mild cramping and had one instance of spotting. Implantation at two DPO? Ha. Not likely. The cause? Who knows. I give up. I have no control.

Also, I’ve been conducting a bit of an experiment with charting. Since moving to the desert I find myself waking up with my mouth wide open and dry as, well, the desert. This seems to affect my temperatures a bit. So, I thought I would try temping vaginally. Don’t worry, folks, I bought a new thermometer. I’ve been taking both temps this cycle to see how they differ. By and large the vaginal temps are .5 degrees higher than the oral. This was consistent until I ovulated. Orally I saw a nice shift, but I am not seeing a shift vaginally. Big Guy suggested I try to push excess air out of my vagina prior to taking my temperature. I told him I didn’t think that would work. I suppose the moral of the story is that people primarily discuss temperatures methods as oral or anal for a reason. I don’t have the dedication to do anal temperatures. I’m not that interested in continuing my personal science project. Vaginal temping did not produce a thermal shift for me. Perhaps I can’t maintain a pregnancy because I have a frigid uterus and vagina.

My luteal phase is going to go fast. This is a welcome relief after the self-inflicted crazy of last cycle. I have a friend coming into town early this week and then we are heading back to Nebraska for my sister’s wedding. I return to the desert on 11 DPO. Our plan is to test on the morning of 12 DPO fully expecting a positive because I metabolize the trigger at a glacial rate. So, the test that matters will be at 13 DPO, or on next Wednesday morning. Darker, lighter, nonexistent? Who knows.

Here is the question: Should I pack some tests to take with me? You know, just in case I’m feeling pregnant…

IUI #1.

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The IUI is done. Success by all standards. Big Guy, who has super sperm, had a post-wash count of 150 million. Nope, I didn’t accidentally add a 0 to that total. He literally has super sperm. The RE’s reaction to the number was comical. Today I am extremely grateful for ridiculous amounts of sperm. Thank you, God. Big Guy feels pretty good about himself.   Continue reading →

The Point At Which My Composure Crumbled.

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Four seasons are my favorite.  I like four distinct seasons, none of which have to be so unruly that my health is in danger.  Denver has four beautiful seasons.  It gets cold, but not too cold.  It gets hot, but not too hot.  Spring and fall are both glorious in the Mile High City. Four beautiful seasons.

I miss the four temperate (to me) seasons. It was 115 degrees yesterday here in the desert.  Today’s temperature is estimated to reach 120 degrees.  That’s right: one hundred and twenty degrees. I woke up early yesterday to get a start to the day, hoping to run a 3.66 mile route through some local neighborhoods.  Alas, I did not check the thermostat before I started and, as it turns out, at 7:45 it was already 90 something degrees.  Suffice it to say I did not complete the run.

As we moved through June, I thought that 110 was the point at which I began to lose my shit, but I was wrong.  Yesterday I officially lost my shit.  It went something like this.  1) Run Errands. 2) Sweat profusely. 3) Run errands. 4) Sweat and chafe profusely. 5) Fail to find necessary items. 6) Sweat profusely and feel sick. 7) Pull up to our garage. 8) Garage won’t open. 9) Sit in air-conditioned car contemplating the need to enter the heat. Again. 8) Run around front and enter garage through alternate entry. 9) Grab remote opener and hurl it to the ground wherein it shatters in pieces. 10) Hurl some expletives and enter the safety of my house. For the record, the point at which I lose my shit is 115 degrees with almost zero humidity. However, I blame the Clomid.

In other news, I’m currently on CD 13 during Cycle #14.  I started the OPKs on CD 10 and much to my surprise they started getting much, much darker on CD 11.  Yesterday my test, if not positive, was damn near there. It would be super duper exciting to ovulate today or tomorrow.  Unheard of really.  So, I’m checking my expectations and acknowledging that I am probably just experiencing a stronger than usual mini-surge leading to my normal ovulation pattern where I ovulate between CD 17 and CD 19.

Did you know that extreme heat can affect sperm? My research is a bit spotty here (ie lazy) but I am going to interpret these research results broadly.  As a result, since I may or may not ovulate today or tomorrow, I am not going to go outside.  I would hate to harm the swimmers by getting too hot.

Lucky.

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Big Guy and I are really lucky.  Yes, I have PCOS and that isn’t so lucky.  That means that my body is challenged to produce a happy, healthy egg on a regular basis.  (Psyche! Did you think I was going to say baby? Ha. We aren’t there yet.) Without producing a happy, healthy egg, we can’t get pregnant.  However, my body does do a good job within its limitations.

Before the Met, I would ovulate every 35-40 days for 2-5 cycles, and then my body would take a 2-6 month breather.  Phew! Ovulation is hard work.  I’ve been tested for insulin resistance on a number of occasions and I always past the test.  However, my paternal grandmother had diabetes, and I believe that I have  inherited some form of insulin resistance.  I believe this is why Met works for me.  (With that said, I do not want to imply that this drug always and only works for PCOSers that are insulin resistant.  Metformin does not work for all women with PCOS, nor have I been unable to find medical research that explores the efficacy of the drug within the PCOS population.)

I also don’t want to paint Met out to be a miracle drug.  The Met is a nasty and pernicious drug, and most women I know react strongly to it.  I react strongly to it.  The Met exacerbates my pre-existing (self-diagnosed) IBS, and while on the Met I am guaranteed to have diarrhea 1-10 times a day, nearly every day. I react the same to both the regular Met and the extended release Met.

I like to to think of my IBS as preconditioning for Metformin.

Post-Met, I ovulate every 32-35 days on CD 18-22.  This makes it really easy to time intercourse.  I also have a great luteal phase, which allows the little guy lots of time to embed into my uterus.  I know lots of women with PCOS that aren’t this lucky, and I really, really feel for them.  I wish we all could take a magic pill and produce a happy egg on a regular basis.  Take that PCOS!

Because I ovulate, we are really lucky.

We are also really lucky because Big Guy has an Olympic caliber swim team.  I don’t have the lab results in front of me, so I can’t reference the actual numbers.  However, if you can recall a typical table with lab results, most reference the “normal range”.  I assume this is two standard deviations from the mean – or approximately 95% of the population.  All I can say is that his numbers were about 25% higher than the high end of the average range.  I’m not even kidding. Big Guy has an Olympic caliber swim team.

Just today I commented to  Big Guy that I wish I were a graphic design artist so I could come up with a fabulous digital image of super sperm.  My super sperm wear 70′s era workout clothing, they generally look exceedingly cheerful, they have skinny arms, they always have a great time, and they appear to love each other very much.  Without describing my idea of a swim team, Big guy promptly drew his champion swimmer.  Here he is:

Wow.

Apparently, my husband has pervie, 80′s rock star, meat head sperm. In case you can’t read the tattoo, it says “IMPLANT” and “ATION.”

We also happen to have the Jerzathon on MTV.  Don’t judge us.  We are grieving. The aforementioned Champion bears a striking resemblance to Mike “The Situation” Sorrentino, don’t you think?