Two Weeks in Omaha

In April 2006 I spent two weeks in Omaha doing all the testing recommended as well as some treatment including a laparoscopic surgery. The result was very informative- a comprehensive list of diagnoses (low progesterone, low estrogen, lutinized unruptured follicle syndrome, T3 conversion thyroid problem, factor V leiden clotting problem, endometriosis, polycystic ovaries and an infection that is known to lead to miscarriage and infertility), as well as a list of treatment options (Clomid, T3 compound, doxycycline, B6, estrace, hcg shots, prenatal vitamins, baby aspirin, and monthly amoxicillian). All of these treatments worked with my body, were specific to my problems and cycles, were morally acceptable, and the treatment was given at the lowest doses possible to be effective. The treatment were to be monitored for effectiveness, always guided by data (blood draws taken monthly). This sounds like it would be common sense, but it is virtually unheard of. In the field of infertility, it common for doctors to assume all women ovulate on day 14, for example; or that one needs to have 3 miscarriages before a reason for a cause is pursued since one or two miscarriages is considered “normal”, “common,” and “bad luck.” Now we were told that not only was my situation a serious one, but it was treatable. There was no way to know if the treatments would result in a successful pregancy or not, but we knew we were doing all we could. We were told to have the best chance possible, it was recommended we begin trying to conceive as soon as we got married. Of course, this wasn't in our original plan, but it was clearly God's plan. Future DH handled this news like a true pro, telling me it was a no brainer. I think I had a little more difficulty than he did, knowing that my PhD would likely not be completed on schedule. But we let it go and followed the advice. In fact, we asked if we could start the medications three cycles prior to our wedding date (we had a six month engagement) so that from day one we would be ready. After all, if we were going to try right away, we wanted to dive in head first! We got the go ahead.
The treatment recommendations were medication, but also shots that my DH started administering. Now if you knew my husband, you would know that he absolutely hates blood draws and shots. However, he is practical, and knew it didn't make sense for me to go to the doctor every time I needed a shot. So he learned how, and giving shots became his labor of love. It was actually pretty endearing. I would lay down on the bed face down and I could see him gearing up out of the corner of my eye. "One, two..." but then he would psych out and have to start again. I waited patiently to be stabbed, and he eventually got it done with a loud grunt. It wasn't painful, but it did cause a bit of a bruise. Small price to pay...The funniest part was that he was trained to ask me at a certain point if I was okay.  Inevitably, I would be the one, face down on the bed, asking him (behind me) if he was okay!  A total labor of love for both of us!