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Just Another Manic Monday

Except for not really. I was looking for a fun title.

But it is indeed Monday. The worst of all days. Sunday nights have gotten really depressing for me because I just dread the week so much. Without giving too much away to the internet spies (that probably don’t exist), work just really sucks right now. There is a light at the end of the tunnel, but the tunnel is still feeling really long and arduous. Next weekend Chief and I have no plans whatsoever. WHATSOEVER. And no one is allowed to try and give us any. We need a break like the Olsen twins need a candy bar. Also, Cycle Day 12 is Saturday, which is the alleged beginning to my fertile time. I’ll begin OPK’s around CD 10. I may even spring for the expensive ones from the store instead of the little strip ones we all buy in bulk on Amazon. I’ll still use those and just use the store ones when I think the strip ones are positive.

A week from today is my ultrasound to see if anything is happening in the lady parts department. Then I will come to work and work an incredibly long day (9:00-8:00) because my boss is taking two weeks off and that is her late night. And I’m really, really nice and didn’t want to say no, even though if the doctor see’s something happening I will then have to go home and jump my husband like a rabid hyena. Or something. I’ve been having a little, tiny pang on my right side (it just happened as I was typing!) so I’m hoping that something is a-brewing. But it’s wee tiny. I could just be imagining it. Or it could be indigestion.

Good news in the fitness world! I’m going to start running during my lunch hour a few days a week with a friend who works on the fifth floor in the non-fiction department. She is one of the best people I know-literally a beacon of light and positivity when I really need one. I haven’t been working out and while I haven’t gained any weight, I’m certainly not losing any either. And we’re going into the gain-weight time of year. I refuse to get fat again! I just refuse!

Tonight is my last dose of femara. I’m feeling…okay. I was a weepy, fall apart kind of mess on prometrium. That doesn’t bode well for the first trimester if I ever manage to get knocked up. But God (or whoever really, I’m not picky at this point, please let me get knocked up. I’ll sob like a fool every day of that first trimester if that’s what it takes. And me sobbing ain’t pretty. It involves A LOT OF snot.

Poor Chief.

CD 1…sort of

Ok Bleeps, it seems that today is cycle day one.

No, I did not get my period, but doc said that would be okay this time around. He said there might not be much of any uterine lining to speak of all things considered (well, mainly Lupron considered). He said I might only have spotting, I might have nothing. I’ve had nothing. So he said that if no bleeding occurs, then the seventh day after my last Prometrium is going to be cycle day one.

That day is today.

I don’t really feel like this month I have a real shot. If I’d gotten a period I would, but I didn’t, so I don’t. He said that this month wasn’t the one he was counting on (although he also said not to count it out either). This is the reset cycle, but there’s still a shot. So on Thursday I start the Femara (letrozole) and on days 12-16 I’ll be OPKing and we’ll intercourse it up, and on day 14 I’ll go in for an ultrasound to see what the haps are and on CD 30 I’ll test, and if it’s negative then I start the whole thing over with another round of prometrium. I’ve already got it all marked up in my day planner (discretely, of course).

And while I’ve waffled back and forth from very hopeful to very sad and unhopeful, the only way I can describe my attitude right now is in this one way:

Let’s do this.

Dropping the Bomb

Hello Warriors of the Womb!

Yes it is 12:10 am Monday morning and YES I should be asleep. However, I just finished a week of staycation time at home, meaning I got to stay up as late as I want and wake up whenever I wanted, meaning these next few days will suck sleeping wise. However-none of that matters. I have major updates!

Last Thursday I went to see my beloved OB/GYN. And I don’t say that sarcastically. I know a lot of you have had bad experiences with OB/GYN’s trying to help with infertility-but I love mine. He’s always been honest about the limitations of his abilities, but he has tried so many things to help me and we have been working together for almost two years now. I feel a lot of affection towards him and I think the feeling is mutual because on Thursday when he saw me for the first time in three months he came into my exam room and gave me a hug. Guys, I just love him. Anyway, after we exchanged some pleasantries and I was able to tell him that, shockingly, Lupron DIDN’T suck the big one, he asked this million dollar question:

“Do you want to get pregnant soon?”

To which my automatic response, of course, was “Um, yes.”

Except for here is the thing-I thought I had until January! The last time we talked he said that he thought January would be about the right time to give my body lots of time to come off of lupron and start up and get pregnant. Apparently I misunderstood-the last time we talked he thought I’d be pregnant by January-maybe February, because he wants me to start, like, NOW. So here’s what’s up: 12 days of prometrium (I’m on day 3) and then we wait for the period. If the period doesn’t come because I’ve been on Lupron so there may not be much lining to shed then seven days after my last prometrium counts as day one of the cycle, and days 3-7 I’m taking Femara (can we all say a big Hallelujah that I don’t have to take Clomid again?!), and then days 12-16 are intercourse intercourse intercourse. He said that we could have sex as often as 12 hours, because that’s all that most men take to “refill”. I clarified with him that once a day would suffice, and he felt that it would (I mean, we’re young, but every 12 hours? Yowzers).

We’re going to do this for three months and he seemed very positive and almost excited-he really thinks that we have a good shot-especially on month two or three. He said we should temper our expectations for the first month.

So this is what we’re doing, and I’m totally cool with it, but when I came home from the doctor that day I sort of fell apart. I hadn’t had to think about ANY of this for the last five or six months really. Especially the last three months since my surgery. I had forgotten what it was like to live a life that DIDN’T revolve around fertility drugs and a sex schedule. Also, over the last year I had sort of convinced myself that not having kids would be okay (which, in the end, it would) and that there were definite advantages to not having kids. I’m not wrong here. Freedom to do what we want, when we want, more money, less stress on our marriage, etc. etc. So when Chief came home and we started talking about it, I really went into a downward spiral of “maybe I don’t want to do this anymore”. He was supportive and said that being a dad was something he felt like he could handle with me by his side, but if I decided that parenting wasn’t for me then he would support me on it. He had league bowling that night and I told him to go ahead and go, because I felt like I needed some space to think about the situation.

I texted a friend of mine who had a baby a year ago and asked her to call me, and even though I had calmed down and stopped sobbing by the time she called, I still just fell apart when she started talking to me. But talking to her was the best choice I could have made. She was so certain and reassuring. There was no doubt in her voice that becoming a mother (even though she has to do a lot of it on her own because her husband travels during the week) was the best decision of her life, and by the end of the conversation my priorities had refocused. By the next morning when I woke up, I couldn’t believe I had ever doubted.

I am scared of not having enough money for daycare, or enough time for my husband, or selfishly, enough time for me, but I still know that I want this. I think what I was also really afraid of was how much I want it, and how much it hurts when it doesn’t happen.

So there’s your scatterbrained update friends. Wish me and my defective womb luck. It was Chief and I’s second wedding anniversary this week-maybe that’s a good sign.