Well then, November

This morning at the beautiful hour of 7:15am (not really), I walked into the fertility doctor's office.  I was there to have my follicles checked after 1 week on the fertility medication Letrozole.

I have 9 growing follicles.  9. I have 9 viable options for a baby. That is...not good.

But according to the doctor, it is a good sign. It's a sign that I respond well to medication and that I am producing eggs in a good fashion.  So it is good?

Technically yes, technically no.

The doctor proceeds to tell me that because there are so many nice sized follicles, it is possible they won't be able to go forth with the IUI.  The doctor doesn't want to risk having a multiple birth possibility and if all the follicles mature, we will have to wait until next month. My body responded "too well" to the medication. Well isn't that just dandy.

I tell her next month isn't happening because we are going out of town.

She says, "Well then, November."

The tears start welling up in my eyes.

She senses I'm about to cry and tells me that we can wait, and make an appointment for tomorrow to check the follicles again. Just to see if only a couple make it to their full mature size. I agree to that and walk out of the room holding back the tears.

I left and called my mom and Jesse.  I let them know and then went into work where I vented to my coworker about how stupid this whole thing is.

The nurse called later today and said she needs me to come in and check the follicles again tomorrow morning. So there's that.

I'm almost wondering if maybe I should have just waited until November? I rushed this September cycle and now it has backfired.  But I suppose I would have just found this out in November and that would have felt even worse because I waited.

Maybe I should just drop this whole fertility clinic thing altogether. I don't want medications in my body that affect the way my body knows it should run.  There is nothing physically wrong with my husband or I, so why did I mess with it?

It's just not my time. It isn't my time to have a child. Why can't I be OK with that? Why do I struggle so hard to accept God's plan for me and my life? Why do I insert myself into every plan and take charge, whether or not I'm wanted or needed?

I'm fed up with my self and my body and my inabilities.

Ugh.