Shortly after I lost my little Teddy Graham, I purchased an electronic fertility monitor. To learn all the details, you can go here, but the need-to-know “facts” are as follows: It’s very high-tech and uses a vaginal and oral sensor to monitor electrolytes, which apparently change before and after ovulation. It can supposedly warn you 5-7 days before ovulation so the baby-dancing can begin. It has been said to have a 98.3% accuracy rate. And for $300+ dollars, I would hope so! But do I sound skeptical? I am. So someone please tell me, why did I decide that I HAD to have it and fork over all that money?
At the time, drowning in grief and feeling more desperate than ever to expand our family, I thought that it might be the fastest path towards our next baby. I wanted to do everything I could to ensure that we are tapping every resource in order to have another child. But now that this silly monitor has suddenly announced that I’ll be ovulating early this very next week, I’m feeling a bit fooled. Like…really? I mean, REALLY??? I don’t know the last time I ovulated on my own without the help of Clomid. It just seems very unlikely. Or too good to be true.
Yesterday, I was panicked at the thought of ovulating so soon. Because if I ovulate, then I want to try again to conceive. But I don’t want to. But I want to. But I don’t! But I DO!!! I’m terrified to miss any opportunity and terrified, just as much, to take this opportunity and to create another life and to lose it again. I mean, if I were to conceive this soon, am I just asking for another miscarriage (okay, there, I finally said that ugly word)? My doctor says it’s okay to go forward, my heart longs for it, but am I crazy — just utterly crazy — for considering it???
But today, well, I have peace, not panic. Because I don’t really trust this monitor. Ovulating in two days? HA! That’s what is crazy! Or impossible. For a physically, hormonally normal girl of age 28, it would be perfectly expected. For this girl of 28, who can count on one hand how many times she has ovulated in the last five or four years, it’s doubtful. So I’m suspicious and no longer frantic, because I don’t think there’s anything to fret over.
I won’t ovulate. No I won’t. Wanna bet on it?