Part 1
Part 2

After our bill was paid in full, I went in for another office visit to discuss Clomid treatment. I was previously given two options: wait to start a period on my own, or take a pill called Provera to start my period.  For the first time in over two years, I actually had a regular cycle.  I started my period the morning of my office visit, and left with a prescription of Clomid in hand.  We were also counseled on the risks of multiples when using Clomid as a form of treatment! I started on the most common dosage of Clomid, which is 50mg.

I was given the following instructions:

– Take Clomid for a total of five days, starting on Day 3 of my cycle and ending on Day 7 of my cycle.
– On Day 10 of my cycle, take an ovulation predictor kit (OPK) at 6am.  Repeat this for Days 11, 12, 13 and 14.
– If I get a positive OPK, call the office by 8am to report my positive reading.
– A blood test would be scheduled for one week after my positive OPK to test my progesterone levels.

Our first cycle with Clomid wasn’t successful.  I never had a positive OPK but was sent to have my progesterone levels tested anyway.  My test results came back with a level of 2, which confirmed that I had not ovulated.


On January 19, I started another round of Clomid. Both my doctor and I were feeling very confident that this cycle would work for us. My dosage was doubled to 100mg and I took the pills for 10 days, as opposed to 5 days. I was counseled on the side effects of a higher dose, and both Papa Jumper and I were prepared for my possible irritability. Instead of being irritable, I was sappy — I would cry at the drop of the hat over anything. I remember crying while listening to the Steeler’s fight song on the radio on my way into work one morning.  We were in the Super Bowl that year, and I must have heard the song 20 times a day.  I’ll take tears over anger any day, but it was definitely strange.  I’m not the type to cry.

I started having a great deal of pain towards the end of this Clomid cycle, and I called into my specialist’s office because we were both concerned. They scheduled an ultrasound for a Sunday morning, which made me worry. Why couldn’t this wait until Monday? But we went in on Sunday, January 31 expecting the worst. There was slight concern that I could have had over-stimulation and developed a growing cyst. But we ended up leaving with great news. During my follicle scan, I learned that I had 1 mature follicle (23mm) and several aaaalllmost there follicies. We learned that we had an excellent chance of conceiving this month, and were counseled on the potential risk of multiples. Eek!

I left the doctor’s office both smiling and crying (those damn hormones!) and began taking ovulation predictor kits that week. On Wednesday, February 2nd I got my FIRST EVER smiley face on the kit. I cried (of course) and snapped a photo of it then emailed it to Papa Jumper. He was so excited!

I was sent the following Wednesday (February 9th) for a progesterone test. They wanted to see levels over 10… and mine were 27. The nurse explained to me that while a higher progesterone level doesn’t mean you’re pregnant, it’s indicative that you could be. My coordinator confirmed that I was officially in the Two Week Wait, and I went out and stockpiled on pregnancy tests.

Based on my calculations, I figured I could take a pregnancy test as early as February 11th, but that didn’t turn out to be the case for us. I tested on the 11th, and it was negative. Again on the 12th, but it was also negative. If I was going to get a period in February, my doctor said it would most likely happen on Thursday or Friday (Feb 17/18) and to try testing again on the 18th.

I promised myself (okay, and my husband..) that I wouldn’t test again until the 18th. I was so convinced I was pregnant, though. For the last week I’d been exhausted. I’d been going to bed around 7pm, and sleeping until 7 the next morning! My breasts hurt so bad and I couldn’t walk up the steps without saying “ow!” I was also insanely nauseous. The sight of certain foods or the smell would make me gag and run for the bathroom. It was driving me nuts that I was getting negative tests, but feeling all these symptoms!

Valentine’s Day was a Monday that year, and that afternoon I just had a feeling like I knew I was pregnant. I was still at work, but I left and bought another box of pregnancy tests (because I was already out). I expected the test to be negative, but within a minute I saw two pink lines. The first line was faint, and I wasn’t sure if this was for real… so I took another one. I saw two pink lines again, and I said, “Oh. SHIT.” I know; what a crazy thing to say right?! I just could not believe my eyes. And I couldn’t believe I took the test at work of all places, either!! I had visions of finding out in the morning, over the weekend, telling Papa Jumper in a really cute way, and enjoying the whole day together. But no… I took the test in the bathroom at work.

This sounds strange to say, but I didn’t know what to do. I snapped a photo of the pregnancy test and texted it to my sister. She called me IMMEDIATELY and was screaming at the top of her lungs. She kept saying, “JENNIFER! you’re a mommy! OMG OMG JENNIFER!!!” I guess she was excited.

I ran to Old Navy straight from work and picked up a onesie for Papa Jumper.  I wrapped it up as quickly as I could when I got home, and was so thankful that I beat him home that day. I swear time stopped, and even though he came through the door 10 minutes later, it felt like an hour. I was sitting on the couch, trying not to cry (tears of happiness) and kept peeking out the window to see if he was home yet. As soon as he opened the front door, I jumped up from the couch and ran over to him. He handed me a dozen roses (which I totally tossed on the couch) and I dragged him to the dining room.

I said, “I have a present for you.”

He said, “Ooohh, what is this?! Is it a new watch?”

And I said, “Not exactly….”

So he opened the gift, and saw the baby onesie. He turned to me and said, “Jen. This won’t fit me.”

And then he looked at it again and said, “OH SHIT.” (dude, we are so the same person!) and gave me the biggest bear hug he’s ever given me.

I started crying (because that’s what I do ) and jumped up and down, and showed him the pregnancy test (because I’m gross, and I kept it).  It was so surreal. We did this. WE MADE THIS. It was made with love.

We couldn’t decide when we should tell our parents. My mom had said several weeks earlier that she just knew we’d call her during her vacation in Hawaii and tell her that we were pregnant. She explained that she was supposed to go on a cruise with her parents, but canceled then found out she was pregnant with me while my grandparents were in Hawaii. Several years later, my grandparents went on another Hawaiian cruise and my parents couldn’t go because my mom was pregnant with my brother. She said it was only fitting that we find out we would be expecting when they’re in Hawaii!

I called my mom that night.

Mom: We are so excited for Thursday!
Me: Why, what’s Thursday?
Mom: That’s when you’re taking a pregnancy test!
Me: Oh…
Mom: Why? Did you take one already?
Me: Sure did, grandma.

And she started laughing. She kept laughing and saying, “I knew it! I KNEW IT!”

I called the doctor’s office at 6:30 the following morning, and they scheduled me for an 8am blood appointment. I was told they’d call me the same day with my results.

At 2 in the afternoon, Shelly (my coordinator) called me at work. I was in my office, and my co-worker was in hers (they are adjoining). Shelly said, “Congratulations, mama! Your HCG levels look great! You’re having a baby!”

I went back two more times to have my HCG levels tested.  The doctor wanted to see my numbers double each time.  They did, so we were scheduled for a 5 week ultrasound to detect a yolk sac and fetal pole. I cried throughout the entire scan.  Actually, I cried throughout my entire pregnancy.  We had a 6 week scan to see a heartbeat and determine viability, and an 8 week scan to confirm viability.  At my 8 week appointment, my RE released me to a regular OB who saw me through the rest of my pregnancy.

It was a long, emotional journey for us.  There were times I cried myself to sleep.  I felt so alone and confused.  I was surrounded by couples who had no problems getting pregnant, and here we were, nearly three years later without a baby.  I truly worried that we’d never become parents.  I’m glad we made the decision to seek fertility treatments, though.  It was an unpredictable path for us, but one we knew we were meant to take.

It’s hard to believe that in three short weeks, we’ll be celebrating our daughter’s first birthday.