As ever, thanks to all of you for your love and support the last couple days. The arrival of my period was a bigger blow than I care to admit. I spent most of Monday crying, praying, and considering if, perhaps, I should just quit now. Have an only child and be done with it. But of course, that is so far from what I want that I won’t give up yet. So instead, I fed my feelings. It seems Disappointment much enjoys Cheese-its and Grief craves candy corn. And Frustration is always so darn thirsty that she just has to drink Cherry Coke Zero all freaking day long.
Why, I wonder, is this so hard every month, even when I tell myself it’s not going to work out?
In the beginning, I did believe this latest cycle would fail miserably, but as the days wore on and my temperature stayed high (it usually drops a day or two before my period), I grew more hopeful. It was exacerbated by the fact that I had obscene amounts of cervical mucus starting at 5dpo (which I have never seen except in pregnancy) and frequent ovarian/uterine twinges that sometimes left me gasping in pain. Though I didn’t want to say it aloud or write it on this blog or even acknowledge it within my own heart, by Sunday, I think I was pretty much convinced that I would be seeing a BFP this week.
Clearly, I was wrong. Which only goes to prove you absolutely cannot predict if you have conceived until you take a pregnancy test or start to bleed. And I am once again reminded that my intuition sucks. Royally.
I think I am most frustrated because I have never before struggled to conceive once achieving ovulation. Ovulation has been the problem more than conception. With both Cupcake and Teddy Graham, I conceived the first time I ovulated with Clomid. Now, on this third time around the block, I have ovulated twice with only BFNs as my souvenir. I know twice is nothing. I know it does not mean that this will continue to be the trend forever and ever. But it still pisses me off. And scares me. And breaks my heart.
And this period hasn’t been kind to me, either. For starters, I think I’m feeling slight pressure and tenderness from a cyst. It’s incredibly mild, but still present. And I haven’t had a flow this heavy since…my early college days? Maybe? And I haven’t seen this much blood since…well, since my April miscarriage. Yesterday, I was cramping pretty fiercely too (off and on) and passing so many clots. It’s been very weird. Whatever it means. I just know it hasn’t been pretty.
The only silver lining I can see in all of this is that, mercifully, my period did not come so early like the time before that I have to worry about a luteal phase defect. And thank God for my RE appointment scheduled for the beginning of November. By then, I will be more than ready to take a more aggressive, proactive approach to making this thing happen.
For now, I’m just trying to stay busy, stay hopeful, and have faith that there is a reason for all of this. And it helps when I hear a favorite song playing out of the blue, too. The day after I learned that Teddy Graham had no heartbeat, I climbed into my car to hear this song on the radio:
And on Monday, while grocery shopping just as my period began, I heard the same song playing. Let’s just say this song is my letter to Infertility, except I might add “Screw you, Bitch” or something even more vulgar. But the refrain says it all, doesn’t it? What doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger.
I am getting stronger, aren’t I?