So Not Pregnant

Well, that ended badly.

After nine days of obsessing, riding a roller-coaster of hope and despair, and generally driving myself and my husband crazy, I got my period. It started yesterday morning as what I thought (it was a moment of hopefulness) was an encouraging sign: spotting, which can sometimes indicate that an embryo has taken up residence in the uterus. I called the nurse and asked her about it. She asked for a lot of detail about its appearance, which made for an awkward time out on the busy sidewalks of town (I hope no one was eating).

As a side note, it's more than a little embarrassing to not know what a normal period is supposed to look like by now. I mean, I thought by now I'd have moved a bit beyond the whole "Your Body is Changing!" days of prepubescence health education, but having an ovulation disorder really kills the whole idea of "typical" and "normal." Every month is a surprise, and not the kind you look forward to.

Anyway, the nurse thought that what I had in the morning seemed normal so I went about my workday, oh so innocent to what lay ahead. By the time 5:30 rolled around I was ready to go home, so I ran to the ladies room before the ride home. Since I've only done the whole two-week-wait thing once before, I was totally unprepared for the icy knife that cut into my chest when I saw that I'd really gotten my period. I just sat there, staring, for a few minutes until it sank in. It was over.

At least it had the decency to wait until the end of the day, so I could go home and have a proper breakdown. The sadness of this kind of loss -- and even when there isn't anything there to begin with, it still registers as a loss -- is startling and suffocating.

Of course I assumed the worst -- now I have luteal phase defect on top of everything else. Because I wasn't having enough fun with the PCOS and anovulation. But the nurse I spoke with today said the doctor is unmoved by this news. Apparently these injectable drugs shorten the luteal phase in the majority of people, and though nine days is a bit shorter than they'd like, they're not all that concerned. They're going to give me progesterone following my next IUI to try and lengthen the cycle. Oh -- and that medication? Comes in suppository form. Because, you know, my hoo-ha hasn't been having enough fun with all the other goodies, like ultrasound wands and catheters. It was just waiting for the addition of a nice, big glob of goop twice a day to really get the party started. Good times.

The next cycle starts tomorrow with a baseline ultrasound and another round of gonal-f. Maybe that's why I'm not jumping out the window. "There's always next time" must be the motto of infertiles everywhere.

-J.