It’s déjà vu, these blank ovulation tests, the waiting and the impatience, the cycle of hope and disappointment.
Heart pounding when I take my temperature in the morning, anticipating that maybe this morning it will rise, fearing that this morning it will drop.
Obsessing over fertility charts past and present, searching for a reason to have hope, right here, right now.
Analyzing my cervical mucous every evening.
Having sex all.the.time.
Spinning my wheels and getting nowhere.
I’m still waiting for my one lucky post-weaning ovulation. That’s new. I’ve always ovulated, on my own, about three weeks after fully weaning my baby. It’s been almost six weeks now.
I had a reason to hope last week. Cervix was high and very soft. Tons of EWCM. OPK’s were getting darker (never positive). And then — nothing. All signs disappeared. A false start.
Anger at my body for failing me. Sadness that my body is so broken.
Sadness that my one chance to do this naturally is slipping away.
Sadness that this can’t be easier, that I can’t be like “everyone else.”
Sadness that there may be many more months ahead filled with sadness.
Sadness that the sadness has filled me already.
So, so much sadness.
Dropping to my knees in quiet prayer.
Fighting against what almost seems inevitable now — endless cycles of progesterone and Clomid.
Bracing myself for the pain, for the disappointment, for the frustration, for much more sadness.
Knowing, with great conviction now, that I want this baby I am waiting for. It’s déjà vu. Nothing like feeling like something may be out of your reach to make you realize how desperately you want it, eh? Déjà vu.
And to make you realize that, if you ever get it, it will be the last time. Definitively. Because you — because I — can’t do this anymore. I’m ready to be done. That’s new, too.
But most of it?
An ongoing, itchy, painful déjà vu.
And yet, the hope for another kind of déjà vu — one filled with positive pregnancy tests and skin stretched across a growing belly — persists.
I will do this over and over if I have to. I will live this déjà vu.
Renewed determination. Hope that won’t die. Letting go and having faith.
The most beautiful part of my déjà vu.