No data exists to support my claim, but I’m guessing most reproductive endocrinologists don’t open their doors to the infertile public at 6AM. Early entry is just one of the added bonuses of our RE, especially when we can be in and out of her office, do 200 push-ups in the waiting room, read an issue of Metropolitan Home magazine in its entirety and still be at our desks by 8.
Unless, of course, that early entry comes packaged with another brand of early entry: A pre-dawn, intrauterine ultrasound.
“Just take off everything below the waist and put the blanket over you. I’ll be right back to take a quick look for cysts, and then we’ll get you a prescription for meds,” Dr. Reya said.
After she left, Constance began to disrobe. I took her skirt and hung it over the back of a chair to keep it wrinkle-free for our afternoon condo closing. “Well, I guess we know what our next step is,” I said. “I can’t believe it’s come to fertility medication.”
Dr. Reya returned and began the test. Constance’s wincing face and tensed upper body competed with the menacing clouds floating in the window for the most problematic elements of the day. Before the test commenced, I concentrated on the prospect of rain on our moving day, which would prove disastrous. But seeing her in pain usurped that fear, and filled me with the guilt-tinged grief that Constance is sacrificing so much of herself to make our baby happen. I wish I shoulder more for her, and for us.
“Here’s a prescription for Clomid. Take one pill everyday for the next five days, and then come in on July 5th for a shot that I will administer to you. Clomid has been around for over 50 years, and children who were conceived on Clomid are having children, so don’t worry about birth defects,” Dr. Reya said in her reassuring, straight-talking tone. “It does not increase your chances for triplets or quadruplets, but it does increase your chance of twins. I’m not sure why it doesn’t increase your chance for triplets, since there will be more eggs available, but it doesn’t.”
We both knew Clomid was coming, and it didn’t catch us off guard. Dr. Reya also told us that we need to have intercourse at least every other day, or every three days if that wasn’t possible.
“But you don’t have to do it every day. You don’t have to knock yourselves out,” she said.
Once we arrived at the elevator, Constance and I smiled at each other. “How hard is it to have sex every other day?” I asked.
“Most people do it once a week. They’re not like us.”
“Well, while I don’t get that because seriously, what else are you doing? But I REALLY don’t get that for couples who are trying to conceive.”
“I don’t get it either,” Constance said. “Where’s the fun in that?”
As we stepped through the electronic entrance, I grabbed Constance’s hand and we smiled in recognition of our immense luck at having each other. By then, the sun was peeking through the clouds, which had shed their darkness for a fluffy, friendly veneer. The rain was gone again, and were ready to move and move on.