May 19, 2015

The last word someone would describe me as is “athletic.” Sure I used to take tap, jazz and ballet back in grade school and high school. And, I played right-wing forward position in field hockey during high school, too. But I’ve never been one to want to work out or want to go to the gym or want to play sports. I tried. I tried my hardest, but I was never the best.

I got myself a gym membership a year ago and started taking gym classes like zumba, yoga, and various aerobics classes. For once I actually found myself enjoying it and I could see the changes in my strength. When I officially started all the infertility testing, I convinced myself that maybe I need to shed a few pounds and get in better shape. Maybe these few extra LB’s were effecting my fertility. So, I started going to the gym at least 3-4 days a week in February. I also decided to try out this ridiculous class called HIIT – High Intensity Interval Training. This class literally kicked my ass. It was the most insane thing I’ve ever tried, but after trying it twice, I was hooked. I started doing HIIT 2-days a week and yoga one day a week. If you don’t know what HIIT is, it’s this class where you do a high intensity cardio or strength exercises for 20 seconds, and then you rest for 10 seconds. The class goes on like this for a full hour. Sometimes the instructor stacks the exercises where you do 6 minutes worth of high intensity switching the type of move or exercise every 30 seconds in that 6-minute set. I began to quickly develop this love/hate relationship with burpies. HIIT is…well, intense. 🙂

I got so hooked to this class and going to the gym 3-4 days a week I decided to participate in my gym’s “March Madness” competition. We had to complete 25 gym classes in the month of March. There were set rules – like we had to take 5 cycle classes, 10 cardio classes, 5 strength classes, and 5 body and mind (think yoga) classes. Long story short, I did it. I had never been so damn proud of myself for completing 25 classes in 31 days.

In April, I started to notice my right foot was bothering me a bit – especially during my HIIT class. It was tender after all the classes to the point where I started icing it in the evenings. Then in the beginning of May, my foot would start to get a little swollen after HIIT. It wasn’t until I found myself barely able to do jumping jacks when I said to myself “self, you need to get your foot checked out.”

I was dreading going to my foot doctor. The last thing I wanted to hear is it’s broken or fractured and I need a cast or one of those damn clunky boots. I love my foot doctor, but man does she bitch at me for wearing stilettos all the time for work. I find myself literally wearing different shoes to her office on purpose just so I don’t have to hear her comment on my stilettos. My foot doctor took some x-rays and puts the photos up on the brightly lit board. She didn’t have to say anything. It was obvious to me that I had a fracture clear as day.

I got exactly what I didn’t want… das boot. Thankfully it was only an ankle boot, but it was a boot. So not only am I dealing with infertility issues right now, I now have to deal with a pretty bad stress fracture. Another thing to stress me out right before summer.

My foot doctor said I could still go to the gym, but I could only use the bike and elliptical. I couldn’t do any classes until the boot is off and she clears me. She told me that I should expect the boot to stay on for at least 6-8 weeks. Immediately I run through my head all of my summer beach plans I have lined up already. I’m going to have to go to the beach with a boot. I leave my doctor’s office and what do I do next? I head straight to the gym. I decided to do the elliptical in the cardio cinema room for 30 minutes. I was bored out of my mind. These next 6-8 weeks are going to be pure torture. All that hard work I put into HIIT was going to be lost and it will be like starting all over again in a couple of months.


February – May, 2015

While I was busy getting my initial blood work tests and HSG done, JM was directed to do a semen analysis. I should never doubt how supportive my husband is, but I was mentally ready for him to push back on wanting to get his swimmers tested. Hearing anything bad about your swimmers is probably the last thing any man wants to hear. Ladies, let me tell you – if your man does not want to get his swimmers tested, then he is a coward. I couldn’t be more proud of JM wanting to figure out if there could possibly be something wrong.

JM was all in. He was ready to find out if there was anything wrong with him since clearly everything is fine with me. I was so proud of him, but yet in the back of my mind I’m convinced that he’s the one to blame why we can’t get pregnant. Yes. I said it. Blame.

Mid-February, JM went in and gave the fertility specialists a sample (which costs a whopping $150 because insurance doesn’t cover it!) and in less than a week we got the results in. JM’s swimmers were not swimming to win a race. Okay, perhaps I’m exaggerating a little bit. But that turns out it’s the only issue – they aren’t as fast as they should be, but overall everything else about his swimmers were fine. My OBGYN recommended JM go see a urologist who specializes in fertility. So, that’s what JM did. To make a 4-month long story very short, from February until May JM went to a few appointments, got his swimmers checked out again, and as it turns out he’s rated an A-. Pretty darn good.


Of course, this left us in total confusion. So, my hormones are fine. My tubes are completely open. And JM’s swimmer’s are an A-. What did the urologist advise? “Just give it some more time and come back and see me in 3 months if you still aren’t pregnant.” I, on the other hand, wasn’t buying it. There has to be something wrong. “They” say, that 90-something percent of couples are able to get pregnant within the first year of trying. At this point it has been one year and three months and we’re still not knocked up.