It’s CD38 (or is it 39?) and things are boring. That’s the thing about taking Provera. I took my last pill yesterday and am now just waiting for my period to come. But as I did not ovulate this month, I’m not in the two-week wait. There is no teeny tiny, itty bitty hope of a BFP. At least not this week. I’m just waiting for next time.
I have spent the last ten days, every day that began by swallowing a Provera pill, indulging everything I fancy. Well, maybe not everything, but close enough. I’ve ingested way too much sugar and caffeine over the last week-plus. There is a small person inside my brain that has been screaming, Stop! You’re sabotaging your fertility! If you don’t have another baby, all the blame will be yours! And then there’s another someone who says, So what? Where has reading every nutritional label gotten you? Certainly not another pregnancy… One thing is for sure: if I gain ten pounds this year, it will not be because of the Follistim. No. It will be entirely my fault. But now I’m back to eating right. And I’m exercising until I can’t anymore. This week, it has been for at least ninety minutes each day to make up for all the crap I ate. I’ve even resorted to counting calories for a few days because it gives me a sense of control and quiets the mean voices in my head. Yes, my relationship with food and exercise is a bit…unhealthy. I’m pathetic really.
Like I said, things are boring. I have nothing more exciting to talk about than food and diets. Should I write about the weather next? 🙂
There have been moments of panic recently, when I’ve had nothing to do but obsess over the future, wondering, what happens if my next cycle turns out exactly the same as this one? Because for some reason, after five months of good success with Clomid (at least when it comes to ovulating), my body decided it would not respond this month. I don’t know why. I don’t even understand how this can happen, especially when they increased the dose. It doesn’t make sense to me. And if there is no legitimate explanation, what’s to say it won’t happen again? What if even Follistim can’t help me now? I don’t know what the next step would be, what my doctor might recommend. We haven’t discussed it yet. I can only guess, but I don’t want to. I just want this to work.
And so, I wait as usual. Anxiously. Impatiently. I wish I could fast forward so I would know what the outcome will be. The unknown is the worst. But this is out of my hands. All of it. And that royally sucks too.