Well I have to say, I have almost been purposefully avoiding this blog. Mostly because thinking about it just made things worse. Like sobbing, wailing, crying worse. Usually writing is extremely cathartic for me - I write it down and it lets me release my feelings and helps me return to normal.
But this time, every time I thought about it my chest got tight and I found it hard to breathe. So I took a step back, closed my laptop and just threw myself into the rest of my life. I hoped that would let me forget everything for a while and allow time for my heart to heal so I could come back a bit better.
And it is, luckily, a bit better. So what has made me so upset? Last Friday I went back to the clinic for my third monitoring session. After the bust on Monday, I prepared myself for the same news - no follicles, no estrogen surge, no nothing. When I arrived at the clinic, there was a different doctor than normal (this isn't particularly concerning), so I followed the usual routine of giving a bit of blood and then went in for my scan. With the dildo-cam inserted, the doctor searched one ovary, and then the other. My lining still looks great, but only one slightly larger (but nowhere near actually matured) follicle was present. I quarried the new doctor about if we would still take the next steps my doctor had outlined on Monday. I explained that she had said if nothing was happening on Friday, then I would start Provera and a larger dose of Clomid in order to be ready when I returned from the U.S. to start my next round.
The doctor pursed his lips and said that no, he would not prescribe Provera or the next round of Clomid yet. Because I wouldn't be around to be monitored and MAYBE I might have a teeny tiny chance of of ovulating on my own, that I would just have to wait and see for the rest of July. When I came back, we'd do another scan and see where to go from there. I was in shock, and instead of pushing for the medication I just let them shoo me out of the office.
I'm sure you won't be surprised when I say I cried all the way home from the hospital. There might have been a little bit of door slamming and swearing as well. How can they make me wait another f***ing month! As if I haven't waited enough already! And I'm already on cycle day 23 and nothing is happening and NOTHING IS GOING TO HAPPEN. And even if I ovulate in July, I won't be with my husband so it's a total waste!
As tears dripped down my face I navigated my car home, doing the calculations. You know the ones - where you see when each part of the next cycle will take place. My next monitoring appointment would be July 28, where they would see that I (still) hadn't responded to 50mg of Clomid. That means they would start me on Provera the next day, July 29. You take Provera for 7 days (August 4), I get my period 10 days later (August 14), take Clomid days 3-7 (August 16-20) and start monitoring on cycle day 12 (August 25) and maybe I won't even respond to that dosage. The whole process takes another month where I can't do anything. It feels like it's a never ending process that takes so much time and energy and it just makes me so frustrated I want to scream, or pull out my hair or punch something.
Someone who is not actively trying to conceive might read this and think I'm crazy. It's just another month, they'll say. It's just a drop in the bucket compared to the rest of your life. You won't even notice. It'll just fly right by. Enjoy yourself! Have fun! Drink wine!
Those of you who are trying (and failing) to conceive will understand, and most likely want to punch those well meaning people in the face. Just kidding, I'm not the violent type. But we aren't getting any younger and when it takes two months just to get one chance, it makes me think that the long and windy road ahead of me is even longer than I had anticipated. It's like a Disneyland line - you think you're almost to the ride then the line turns and you've got another 3 hours of waiting in front of you. Only in this case, it's 3 years.
Sigh. Maybe I haven't allowed enough time to pass between my appointment and now. I can feel myself getting all angry and wound up, but I suppose that's better than sporadically bursting into tears.
With nothing to do, I am only temping (although goodness knows why I even bother), and now just counting down the days until my next chance - only 45 days to go!
No comments:
Post a Comment