I lied.

Well, remember when I stated here that I didn’t really care if I conceived this cycle? And remember when I said here that I didn’t have much faith for this go-around?

Well, I lied.

I did care and I did hope

And that, my friends, is why the spotting and BFN, at 16dpo, are such a bitch.

I hate this. Absolutely effing hate it.

Losing Hope

Last night, I prepared a post about pregnancy “symptoms” I am and am not experiencing (like vomiting over the weekend), but after taking my temperature this morning, I don’t think I’ll be publishing it. I just don’t think there’s any point. Because, while my temp has been above 98.0 since ovulation, yesterday it dropped to 97.86 and today to 97.45. Right back to where it was before ovulation. There is a part of me (the part that’s in denial) that argues maybe this is a fluke. Maybe my temp will go back up tomorrow. But we know, don’t we? I know.

I am not pregnant.

Confirmed by a pregnancy test I took this morning just for the heck of it: BFN. No surprise there. Not now, anyways.

I can’t adequately describe to you what this has done to my state of mind this morning. Crying off and on. Periods of numbness in between the sobbing. Unmotivated to do anything. And sometimes thinking, Well, screw it. I give up. I’m not doing THIS again (which totally deserves its own post).

I feel so scared right now. If my temp is dropping, at 11dpo, what does this mean? That I’m not producing enough progesterone? That I have a luteal phase defect? Because of all my problems, that is not one I’ve ever had, as far as we know.

And what could have possibly gone wrong? I ovulated earlier than I ever have before and we timed our baby-dancing perfectly. Did we do it too much? Was three days in a row too many? Some recommend every other day, but with an adequate sperm count, there is no research that says we can’t do it more. Should my husband be tested? Again? And yet… Yet, just four months ago, we created a life — a beautiful life — in the same way with no problems at all.

For the first time in my life, I ovulated on cycle day 14. And I feel like I just blew the best chance I had. Because I don’t know what happens when I embark on my third round of 100mg of Clomid. I’ve never had to go there. Three rounds of 50mg? No problem. I know they will all fail. I won’t even ovulate. But three rounds of 100mg? I can’t even take a guess. I hope I will ovulate. On an acceptable day. But I have lost all my confidence in conceiving just because I ovulate.

In the days after my miscarriage, all I wanted was to have my mom here, so that she could watch my daughter while I went to our bedroom and cried myself to sleep. Today is like that. I just want to cry. And sleep. Maybe until next month, when I will be ovulating and can have hope again.

I keep thinking how easy life would be if I’d never lost our Teddy Graham. I can never change the fact of my infertility and that I can’t conceive naturally, but if he was still here…life would be okay. Good even. I would feel so happy. The future would hold so much hope. My heart would hurt so much less.

I guess, more than anything, today I just want my baby back.

I’m Weak…and a Mess.

Well, I know I promised you all an in-depth, highly scientific analysis of all possible pregnancy symptoms, but that will have to wait for another day. Because since yesterday afternoon, I have been a mess. Overly anxious. Worried. Stressed. Fearful. All because I have not been feeling as many signs and symptoms as I think I should be and, thus, I am convinced there is a very real possibility that I might not be pregnant.

And today in a moment of weakness, at 9dpo, I peed on a stick.

Big. Fat. Negative.

The strange thing is that I’m not, generally, an early tester. I’m the most impatient person in the world (look me up in The Guinness Book of World Records…I’m sure I’m there!) and yet I always, always hold out as long as I possibly can when it comes to testing. With both of my past pregnancies, I waited until at least 3 days past my missed period before bringing out the HPTs. But this time, being weighed down by all that worry, I decided to give in and just do it today in the hopes that, by the grace of God, there might be the faintest of faint lines visible. There was not, and of course it has done nothing but cause me more worry.

And yes, I know it’s still early. Very early.  Certainly, there are people who get a positive test by now, but there are also plenty who don’t.  The egg does not generally implant until 6-10 days after ovulation and it will be a day or two after implantation before there is enough hCG to be detected by an HPT. So there is still hope, but right now, it’s feeling hard to have it.

Part of where the problem lies is that I have been hanging everything I have on this cycle. After my miscarriage, I told myself that if I can only make it to this second round of 100mg of Clomid, the one that has always worked for us, I will be okay. Everything will be fine. The whole in my heart will start to fill. Of course, I know a BFP is not a cure-all, but its potential is all I’ve had to get me through some of my darkest days. And if I never get that BFP, at least not this month? I’m afraid I’m going to be right back where I was when I started bleeding during my last pregnancy. I’m going to lose it.

Today, I skipped working out. It’s something I allow myself to do when I’m feeling down. I just lounge around on the couch, watching Today and cuddling my daughter (when she’ll let me) all day long. My brand of “comfort food.” In a way, it feels like I’m already starting to grieve the loss of this cycle.