Eggs before Easter

Wednesday, we went back to the doctor to follow-up. I had taken the Clomid, and given it two weeks to work its magic. The hope was that in that time, I would have produced follicles and ovulated. I had absolutely no desire to visit our doctor this week, because I knew in my heart that it hadn’t worked, and I really didn’t want to face the disappointment. I took home ovulation tests to check for an LH surge signifying the start of ovulation. Nothing happened. And, although my temperature had dropped, another early sign of ovulation, I really knew my body didn’t respond to the treatments. My always encouraging husband grabbed my hand and reassured me that if we didn’t go to the doctor, we wouldn’t know for sure, and we couldn’t really start over. He was right, so I reluctantly gathered my things, and we drove the 45 minutes to the doctor.

I had a lot of side effects on Clomid, including pain in my lower abdomen where I assume my ovaries are located. The pain was worse on the left side than the right, and in both cases was more like a dull, achy pulsing than a sharp pain. I didn’t want to tell Dr. Smith about the pain, because I figured he wouldn’t want to let me try again on Clomid. But, I also knew it was important for my care. The doctor told me that in some cases this sort of pain is normal, and a good sign that something is stirring in the ovaries. He suggested we do a physical exam before my blood work.

The exam showed that my body was producing cervical mucus, which is a good sign that ovulation is possible. And, that once ovulation occurs, pregnancy is possible. After, he suggested we do an ultrasound to check out my ovaries. I got dressed, changed rooms, and another doctor (Dr. Rodriguez) met us there to conduct the ultrasound. The first picture was of my uterus. The first ultrasound Dr. Rodriguez did on my uterus, last summer, showed absolutely no lining build-up, which was kind of a blessing, because I hadn’t had my period in about three months at that point. But, this ultrasound showed a lining ready to be a womb. Both doctors, my husband, and I celebrated the small victory. Then Dr. Rodriguez moved to my right ovary, which contained one follicle. The follicle wasn’t quite big enough to produce an ovulation resulting in pregnancy. So, he moved to the left ovary. As soon as we could see it on the screen, both doctors yelled out, “There you go!” And, there on the screen, was a follicle perfect in size and shape waiting to be coerced down my fallopian tubes! I looked at my husband and we just smiled! It was amazing. The Clomid had produced one, possibly two, follicles!

Dr. Rodriguez looked at us and said, “No triplets this round,” as he exited the room. My husband and I just laughed, because my mother is so convinced we will have triplets; a fact we have never discussed with either doctor. Then, my husband gave me the “I told you so look” as we sat back down with Dr. Smith to talk about what’s next. Since my body was able to produce a follicle, but not actually ovulate it, I had to get a shot of hCG. hCG is a hormone found during pregnancy. It is actually what home pregnancy tests are looking for. But, it has been proven to force ovulation in women. But, I HATE NEEDLES!!! I am such a baby about it, and the thought of having my husband push medicine into my arm terrified me a bit. I keep reminding myself the endgame is worth it. The hCG has the potential to push the egg (or both eggs) out within 36 hours. If it worked we’ll know in several weeks, because I will either be pregnant or have my period. If it didn’t work, we’ll probably repeat the same steps again next month. With the Clomid and hCG, we still only have a 30% chance of becoming pregnant.

The truth is, even if this month we do not get pregnant, I am still praising God that my body produced even one healthy follicle. I was so convinced it wouldn’t work on that dose. But, it did! I am asking for continuous prayers, because it’s still a long journey. I thank all of you who read this blog and pray for my family, because God is moving mountains right now in my body.

And I'll be awful sometimes. Weakened to my knees. But, I'll learn to get by on the little victories.

Today, I started taking Clomid. It feels like a long time coming, considering that my husband and I have been seeing a fertility specialist since November 2010, and have been seeing our current doctor for just under a year. But, here we are. I feel a little hesitant to write an entry today, because I didn’t want to give people false hope. I guess, the truth is, I really don’t want to give myself false hope. Clomid has a 35% success rate. This is actually the same percentage a fertile-aged couple with no signs of infertility has of getting pregnant each time they are sexual active during ovulation. It seems so low to me, but those are the odds. Since my hormones are balanced (or at least they were at my last appointment), we now have the same chance as any other couple with the help of Clomid. That’s pretty amazing to me. But, 35%? How does anyone get pregnant with those odds? I feel like we just climbed the first peak of Everest, only to look up, and realize there are many, many more miles to go. I believe this will work for us (I believe, help my unbelief.- Mark 9:24), but how many tries will it take? What is the right dosage for my body? These things are so subjective, and not even my doctor can answer for sure. Fertility medicine is all trial and error. And, that is scary as hell to me. My body is exhausted from just the past three weeks of preparing to take the Clomid.

On January 13^th, I started Provera. Provera is a drug that induces a period. Gynecologists believe that it is unhealthy for the female body to go longer than three months without a period (except obviously during pregnancy), so they frequently put irregular woman on birth control to produce a period each month. If you are trying to get pregnant, then birth control is obviously a poor choice, so the other option is Provera. I HATE Provera. The drug makes me feel awful! I have premenstrual cramps for the whole 10 day cycle, plus the 10 days in between before my period starts. And, I am so nauseous that I don’t really want to eat. This time, it actual made me vomit. I feel fatigued, weak, unmotivated, and irritable. It is really not a fun medication. Plus, when my period does come the cramps are so bad that I feel nauseous again. So basically, I have felt like absolute crap for a month.

In the past when I have taken Provera, my period is weak flowing, but painful. This time it was less painful and heavier. Maybe I am looking too much into this, but I think that was a good sign. When I have taken the medication before, I had low levels of estrogen, and the doc was trying just to clean me out, because a lining build up can be dangerous. But, I know from my previous ultrasounds that my lining doesn’t really build up on its own because the hormones that make that happen are too low to do their job. This period more closely resembled those I had on birth control when there was a higher level of estrogen present in my body. I am chalking this up to a small victory that the estrogen supplements are causing my body to produce a lining, but not ovulation. Enter the Clomid.

Clomid’s job is to stimulate the ovaries to create follicles and induce ovulation. It increases your chance of twins by 50%, but is not really known to produce higher sets of multiples (though it has happened). The beginning dose is 50mg once daily for five days. The dose is increased if it is unsuccessful the first time. Dr. Smith started me on 100mg for five days. Essentially, we skipped step one. Typically, if a patient takes 200mg and uses the “trigger shot” of hCG hormone with no successful ovulation then Clomid will not work for the woman. (Note- hCG “trigger shots” are given during the third step of trying Clomid.) Since there are so many trial and error steps even this medication can be a long process, depending on how persistent the doctor is with the medication. Since today was day one for me, I will go back to the doctor in two weeks. At that appointment, he will run lots of blood work to check for ovulation and/ or pregnancy, perform a physical exam to check for signs of a thickening cervix, and discuss what the results mean. We obviously won’t know the blood work results the same day, but usually the physical exam is enough to determine pregnancy. The blood work will confirm if the Clomid induced ovulation even if we are not pregnant.

I plan to use the home ovulation tests to better time sex, but we have been instructed to be intimate every other day from now until our appointment. And, I will say, I am happy that although we will be having sex on a schedule, neither of us feels negatively about it. We both know that a lot of couples sort of get bitter in these situations, usually because the female is looking only to get pregnant and it can deplete the intimacy of sex. I love my husband very much, and sex is a very active part of our marriage. I want to get pregnant, but I don’t want him any less.

Almost a Daddy or How Dr. Smith Broke My Heart

Friday, my husband and I went back to the doctor to have follow-up blood work completed after three weeks on the estrogen treatments. I have learned not to get my hopes up too much before we head to Dr. Smith’s downtown Houston office. His office has become menacing. It is a large, skyscraper-esque building, complete with lots of traffic and a large parking garage. The building has changed for me. I used to see a bright building full of hope, but each visit the building has grown darker and darker. It is no longer a place of hope. It is a place of fleeting dreams. A place of heartbreak. A place of hurt. And, I feel all of these things before we have even had a chance to try a single fertility treatment. So far, Dr. Smith has been focusing on my “crazy hormone levels”, because at this point my body will not respond to treatment. I respect and support this treatment approach, but he doesn’t always exhibit the best bedside manner. He is a man of jokes, and I am a fragile girl who cannot handle them. Since this visit was to be short, only long enough to discuss that I have not had any side effects on the estrogen, I didn’t expect much in the way of a new treatment plan. There can be no plan until he has read my test results sometime this week. I didn’t even want to ask him what was next. But, I ended by saying what I usually do, “I’m really praying this works, because I really want to be a mommy.” Dr. Smith laughed and said, “With testosterone levels like yours, you’re almost a daddy.” My mouth fell open, and my heart sank. I held it together enough not to cry at that moment. My husband wrapped his arms around my and whispered in my ear, “I love you.” This is always his answer when things get me down. It used to feel like it was a copout, but lately it’s the only thing that gets me through. He loves me enough to hold me when the world falls apart, which is something that happens more frequently than not with fertility treatment.

But, Dr. Smith’s one sentence sent me into a downward spiral of despair the entire weekend, not a good thing considering we had company from out of state, and I was appearing in a Christmas play. Who would not have been hurt by those words? If you read my blog regularly, you know that the high testosterone levels have begun to make me feel like less of a woman. I questioned everything about my life. Am I not a girly girl, because I have too many boy hormones? Can people tell that I have high testosterone? Will my hips ever pear-shape like a woman’s should? Will I have less of a sex-drive when the testosterone levels come down? This weekend, it took everything in me to hide how I was really feeling in order to perform in a play, and be a good host to my friend. It was exhausting. And, I didn’t do a very good job at it. For someone that has ridiculously high testosterone levels, I am pretty damn emotional. The worst part is that since there was so much happening over the weekend, my husband and I really haven’t had a chance to process the new information, however little there was.

The current plan, as I understand it is to wait and see how my test results come out. If it looks as though there is some balance, we will probably start Clomid after taking Provera to induce a period. If there isn’t… there is no current plan in place. I am a planner, and the waiting, not knowing, uncertainty is killing me. I wonder if it would be a good idea for us to begin the process to adopt. My husband says that he isn’t ready to give up on my body yet. And, that isn’t because he doesn’t believe in adoption. In fact, we both believe adoption saves lives. He doesn’t want to give up on my body, because he knows that I selfishly want to carry a child. I have two friends who were adopted, and I believe their lives were better because of it. I know I’m being selfish by wanting to exhaust all our options for treatments first. I know we run the risk of extreme stress on our marriage as sex becomes a chore prescribed by a doctor, and as doctor’s bills go unpaid by our government issued insurance. I know that there is a better way to spend the kind of money we could be paying out in the end, but I am selfish enough to not care about any of it. At least my husband is supportive, and I am very appreciative. But, I wonder if his role will become passive as mine becomes pregnant by any means necessary. Will he resent me? Will he resent our child?

On a related note, my life has been consumed with fertility talk. I enjoy writing this blog, because it is free therapy for me, cathartic. But, people ask me about it a lot in my personal life, and I can’t seem to not bring it up in relatively every conversation. I am a woman obsessed. I fear it will become a draining burden on everyone around me. I am a Debbie Downer. And, I really don’t want to be. So, I am hereby granting permission to change the subject. Just because my life is consumed by fertility overload, doesn’t mean the lives of all my friends has to be too.

I swear I didn't mean for it to feel like this, like every inch of me is bruised.

It seems as though every time my husband and I have a glimmer of hope, we get knocked down so low that it is hard to remember that our doctor hasn’t given up on us yet.

I was so excited as I started this week. Monday was the last day I was taking Provera, which meant a period later this week, and the start of our first round of Clomid. On Monday afternoon, Dr. Smith’s nurse called me to deliver my test results. I had completely forgotten that he had ordered blood work before I left his office two weeks ago. Since I was told not to wait for the results, the tests seemed meaningless. I didn’t even remember what he ordered, and I assumed it was just the standard routine that I have drawn nearly every visit. The results were not good, to say the least. You see, my biggest complication with PCOS is that I have unusually high testosterone levels, which is a major symptom of the disorder. However, mine are the highest my doctor has EVER seen. And, despite the fact that they were in normal range a month ago, they have once again skyrocketed to levels that prevent Clomid (or really anything else) from working. Basically, he wanted to see us the next day (yesterday) in his office to discuss a new plan.

            After I hung up the phone, I cried. Mostly, I felt defeated in a battle that I didn’t even get the chance to suit up for. But, it also hurt my heart to hear that my testosterone levels were high again, because the very idea of it makes me feel like less of a woman. I consider myself to be an intelligent person, and my mind KNOWS that this is not my fault. I even KNOW that I am actually pretty lucky that I don’t take more after my Hungarian roots, because the symptoms would be more visual. But, my heart… my heart feels pain, hurt, anguish that I am defective. It makes me feel like I am not a woman. Sure, I have breast and a vagina, but my ovaries make more testosterone than they should, and my brain doesn’t know how to turn it off. Essentially, my body appears female, but behaves male. It is a major identity crisis. I feel like my husband married a woman, but didn’t get one. I irrationally worry that my body will somehow find a way to change shape and grow a penis. I KNOW these things can’t happen, but I cannot change how I feel. I feel manly, and no woman ever wants to feel that way. We are conditioned from birth to grow up as beautiful woman. We wear make-up, color our hair, bat our eyes, and sway our hips. And, I feel like my body has forgotten those things, choosing instead to spit, scratch, and grunt. I am defective. If I were an electronic, I would have been traded in under factory warranty. I am broken.

            After stewing in these thoughts for a full day, my husband and I made the long trek to Dr. Smith’s office. I wanted to believe I had prepared myself for the worst, but if I were really honest with myself, I hadn’t. Dr. Smith had a plan, though, which was a little reassuring. My cycles, the way my body will respond to treatment, it’s all a guessing game at this point. While Dr. Smith couldn’t answer all of our questions with more than, “I don’t know yet”, he did explain in detail what he would like to try in order to get my body in gear. Since my testosterone went down with birth control, we know I do not have a tumor, and we know that there is a window of opportunity that could produce ovulation. So, I will now be taking three weeks of estrogen treatments once I finish my period sometime next week. These treatments are the same ones given to women who are going through menopause, which I am not. Dr. Smith is certain I am not going through early menopause, because my levels would be more than double what they are, which I guess was supposed to make me feel better, but really didn’t. After I have taken three weeks of estrogen, I will be given another blood test and then “smacked” with Clomid. Basically, I will be on the highest dose of Clomid Dr. Smith is comfortable with. Though, that doesn’t mean I will ovulate. Like I said before, it’s all a guessing game now.

            Maybe I am crazy for putting my body through this. Maybe it will work too well, and we’ll end up with a litter instead of just one healthy baby. Maybe it won’t work at all. But, I have to try. I think the worst part about the uncertainty of infertility is the guessing, waiting, praying for a positive result. Being that I am what Dr. Smith calls a “toughy”, it makes it even worse. I can no longer rely on the statistics that surround the medication, because I do not fit the mold of the women who usually take them. I am thankful that Dr. Smith is still willing to try pills before exploring other options, because our insurance won’t cover anything beyond that, and the other procedures can be painful and invasive. But, I wish it were all over. I have dreamt of holding a baby my whole life. Since I have known my husband that baby has a face; features similar to his crooked smile and brown/ green eyes. I want to hold OUR child. I believe in adoption, and I would never love an adopted child less than I would love one I carried for nine months, but I want the chance to be pregnant. I want to help God grow a miracle. I want to feel that baby grow, kick, move. I want to feel the pains of birth, and hear our child cry for the first time. And, I don’t think these things are selfish. I am not motivated by greed, hate, destruction; I am motivated by love. What can be more pure than that? 

Provera, Period, and Clomid! Oh, My!

This week started off with another disappointment, but today Dr. Smith turned it around. Monday, I called the doctor after unsuccessfully having my period on my own again. I faxed the doc my temperature chart, and he asked me to take a home pregnancy test. Despite the fact that my blood work did not show signs of ovulation four weeks ago, my temperature chart looked like I may have been pregnant. Although it was disappointing to take another negative pregnancy test, it wasn't as heartbreaking as others I've taken. I wasn't letting myself get too excited about anything, because I know my body well enough to know I was not pregnant. Because it was negative, the doctor requested my husband and I come in today for a follow-up. I made my husband promise he would help me be tough and press the issue that enough was enough, and it was time to try an actual treatment. I was prepared to put on my big girl pants and threaten to seek another doctor. But, all of that was unnecessary. Dr. Smith began by saying that, while he had hoped I would ovulate on my own, it wasn't looking like my body would. And, that he wanted me to take Provera (a period-inducing pill) for 10 days to shed the lining in the uterus and have a period. After I actually start my period, I am to fax my temperature chart, and he will tell me when to start Clomid. I think my heart literally skipped a beat when he said the word! Clomid is often the first step in infertility treatment, but Dr. Smith is an advocate for balancing the body's natural hormones before trying any ovulation stimulators. I actually agree with him. He has given my body the best chance at not only conceiving, but staying pregnant, and delivering a healthy baby. The side-effects, besides the possible lack of cervical mucus I mentioned before, are hot flashes and night sweats. Provera makes me crazy hormonal, and I imagine Clomid will as well, so I have pre-apologized to my husband for my possibly crazy, hormonal behavior. Also, Clomid increases the chance of twins. I wouldn't mind twins actually. Since we don't have any kids now, it's not like we'd know the difference in the lack of sleep from one baby versus two babies. Besides, built-in playmates sounds pretty good to me. I think my husband is less sold on the idea of twins, but he is super excited to be taking another step forward toward making a baby. I feel conflicted about starting Clomid. On the one hand, this is exactly what I want. On the other, I worry that I will get crushed if it doesn't work. But, I will NEVER give up. I believe that I will be a mother. I believe I will carry a child. And, this is just step-one in making my body cooperate. There will not be much to report over the next three weeks as I will be taking Provera and having a period. But, I am asking that my readers will keep my husband and I in their prayers for the road ahead. I am guessing we will start Clomid in the middle of November. During that time, the husband and I will be on a strict sex schedule (I doubt he'll complain), and wait to see if it worked. Speaking of the sex schedule, after Dr. Smith once again gave us the best doctors orders of sex every other day, I thought of a very important question: Are there any positions that help with fertility? Dr. Smith said, "don't believe any of that." Fertility is different for each person, and each egg is different each ovulation cycle. But, one thing remains the same, if the sperm can get to the egg, pregnancy will occur. There isn't a position that can help that, just our bodies doing what it does naturally, or in our case with the help of Clomid.

Losing Smoosh

     Saturday evening, my husband and I returned home to discover that our dogs, a beagle named Bella and a pug named Smoosh, had dug their way out under our fence. They were so determined that they actually dug around chicken wire. We searched everywhere for them. It was dark and late. My husband searched until 3:30am. He hung signs and walked until his legs literally hurt. I drove our neighborhood and two others following the creek behind our house until midnight. I finally convinced my husband to get some sleep around 4:30. We woke up to my phone ringing at 8am. A woman had found Bella in her yard howling loudly at 3:30am. She didn't have Smoosh.
     I had a bad feeling about it, because they NEVER go anywhere without each other. The one time Smoosh went on a car ride with daddy without Bella, Bella cried the entire time. When we go to the woman's house, a house so in the country she didn't even have an address, I saw a black animal lying under a tree. I knew it was Smoosh. I got out of the car, and called her, certain she would come running with that big smile on her face. But, she didn't come. She was gone. My husband believes she was hit by a car, but we'll never know for sure. The evil, Texas fire ants had already begun to do significant damage to her body.
     Bella was not hurt at all, at least not physically. She has a few scratches on her tummy that are probably from the chicken wire. But, she is heartbroken. I believe she was howling to try to get Smoosh help. She knew her sister was hurt, but she was unable to communicate it properly. And, since the woman didn’t want to be rude and wake us up in the middle of the night, we couldn’t do anything to save her. So, we wrapped her body in a towel the woman gave us, and took her home. We buried her in our yard in a shoebox from the pair of boots we were busy buying while she was escaping to her death.
     Losing Smoosh is absolutely devastating. She was our baby. We got her from a breeder when she was eight weeks old, four pounds, and didn’t know how to bark yet. She was beautiful. We fell in love with her when we first saw her. We wanted a fawn pug, and we wanted a female. The only fawn left with this breeder was a male. But, it didn’t matter; we fell for Smoosh as if she were ours all along.
     Part of the reason we purchased Smoosh, not a small fee for a purebred, was because I wanted a pug. I love pugs. They’re funny, happy, and loving dogs. The other reason we got Smoosh was to fill the void of my empty womb. We knew at that time that we were going to have difficulty conceiving and this way we would have a baby until we could have one we made. It may sound silly to some of you, but she really was my child. I taught her everything. She went through the same developmental stages a human baby goes through. And though I didn’t carry her and she wasn’t technically human, she was mine. Don’t get me wrong, I know I will love my own child more, if not differently, than Smoosh, but she is the only child I know now.
     I’m heartbroken. I’m angry. I’m hurt. I’m sad. I’m regretful. She did not deserve to die that way. She deserved to grow old, and die peacefully. Not like this. She was the happiest dog I have ever met. She loved life. She loved her sister. She loved us. And, we failed her. We failed to keep her safe. I hate that I cannot stop thinking about other sceneries that end with her sitting in my lap when I get home from work today. We had several people tell us they saw our dogs out, and one even checked their tags. But, no one called us. I suggested we lock them in, but we decided they would be fine roaming our fenced-in yard. If I would have stayed up longer, and driven further. If the woman who found Bella would have called us sooner. None of these things can change, but I can’t stop wishing they could.
     I feel cheated. I have been unable to get pregnant on my own, and now I lose the one child I had. I feel cursed. And, I feel like God hates me. He has many reasons to. I know these are not realistic feelings, but they feel normal right now. Grieving the loss of a pet feels no different than when I was grieving the death of my grandma last December, a loss I still have not been able to fully get over. I feel empty. I am empty. Smoosh was ours. One of the first things that was ours. And, now she’s gone forever. Nothing can replace her. But, I do think we will eventually get a new dog. Maybe another pug, because that’s the breed I prefer. But, no new dog will ever be Smoosh. I miss her more than I knew I could.

When failure repeats

     This week has been depressing. There is no other way to describe the emotional roller coaster of happily anticipating good news only to receive another heartbreaking blow of disappointment. I am not trying to sound as though I am whining, or seeking sympathy; but, I cannot shake this feeling that I am in a major funk.
     Monday, my husband and I went back to the doctor to have him look over my temperature chart, and run some blood work to check for ovulation. A few weeks ago, I had a drop in temperature, which is usually the sign that ovulation has begun. Dr. Smith took one look at my chart and said, "Well, April, I think you've ovulated!" The rest of the appointment went on with discussion of when we would know we were pregnant, and for how long he would monitor me after confirming pregnancy. He had me so excited, anxious, joyful, and scared... everything a first-time mom feels. My husband was also pretty excited, because he has been telling me for a week that I was pregnant based on the "symptoms" I was experiencing (nausea, fatigue, swollen and sore breasts). So, I had my blood drawn, and left awaiting the phone call Tuesday that would confirm that this was the "first chance we truly had at getting pregnant" (Dr. Smith's words).
     Tuesday morning I woke up with a fear of bad news. I couldn't shake the feeling that the temperature drop was a fluke. I was right. In the midst of pure chaos after realizing our dogs had literally broken out of the fence (seriously they broke boards, and the biggest one is only 32 pounds), I got the phone call from  the doc's nurse. The blood work showed that I had not ovulated (again). The doctor's new orders are to call when/ if I get my period. If I do not get it by the time I am due (which is supposed to be 10-2), then I am to call in three weeks. THREE MORE WEEKS!
     I feel like I am fighting with myself. Half of me wants to begin treatment immediately, because I would like to pregnant before the end of the year. The other half of me thinks that we have to start right away, because this is going to take a while. I didn't ovulate this month, so I will not likely have a period. I know that I have to have a period before I can begin Clomid, because of the nature of the medication, so why not just give me a period inducing med (like Provera), and get a jump start on things. Provera usually takes 10 days to induce a period; Clomid induces ovulation in the typical 28-day cycle. So, we are now looking at Thanksgiving before we could even get pregnant.
     My husband told me it is difficult for him to understand my need for a "time table". I want to be pregnant before the end of the year (I turn 30 in December), but not because it is some need to meet some biological clock as much as it is a need to set a goal. Sorry to brag, but I have accomplished a lot in 29 years. The reason is because I have always set goals for myself. I know that fertility treatment is at best a guessing game, which scares me to death. I am not fully able to set a goal in this case. Dr. Smith shared the statistic that, with a couple with no fertility issues, there is only a 1 and 5 chance of conceiving. Now that my hormones are balanced, we have a better chance than what we did, but still not 1 and 5. With Clomid, there is only a 35% of conceiving. Other treatments are even lower. We could be undergoing fertility treatments for years before we conceive, or we could get pregnant in a few weeks. The fear of the unknown is killing me.
     My husband says, that he is not giving up on my bum ovaries. And, he believes that he will be a father, and I will be a mother. I believe that too, but I wonder when. It breaks my heart every time we go to the doctor, and hear that it didn't happen again. It breaks my heart every time I have another month go by without ovulating. It breaks my heart that I cannot make my husband a father. I blame myself every time, because it is my body that has failed.