Oh, that deep-down, soul shattering anguish. Where your very atoms are crying out. Every fiber of your being reaches out to something bigger than itself, seeking, yearning, craving.
That's how I felt for a few days early this week.
On Sunday, I hadn't even taken a pregnancy test yet, and I was in a state of panic. I was on the verge of tears from the moment I woke up. I tried not to cry in church. I cried in the car going home from church. I tried not to think about taking a test. But it was in every corner of my mind, the entire day.
I was scared. What-ifs bombarded me. Oh, those what-ifs. They're terrible. They steal all joy, hope, and expectation.
Flash back a bit to earlier this month. I'd taken clomid on days 3 through 7. Thankfully, the only side effects from that was just a constant headache. Not anything too bad, but it was there. Then I went on day 12 to have a transvaginal ultrasound, to see my ovaries response to the medicine. After waiting forever, they finally told me that my response was "adequate." Also, the clomid made me ovulate on time, at day 14 or 15, instead of day 16 or later. I was getting positive OPKs for three days!
Then, I started taking the progesterone. This is required for sustainable viability of a pregnancy. And it. Is. HORRIBLE!!! Talk about mood swings. Flashes of violent thoughts out of nowhere. I even yelled at a friend to "shut up" at dinner one night (he had it coming) and contemplated gouging his eyes out with the crayons one of the kiddos was coloring with... uh... yikes? I freaking hate progesterone!!!
So. Back to this week. Monday, I took a pregnancy test. It showed as negative. I looked and looked at that stupid stick, hoping to see a faint second line. A shadow. Anything. Then I screamed "I hate you!" at it (in my head, it was 6am and everyone else was still sleeping) and threw the dumb stick on the floor. And cried into my sink, and tried to apply eyeliner and mascara between sobs.
Went to work and cried some more.
Went to the bathroom at work, and had a little teeny smear of blood show up. Implantation bleeding?! My mind raced. My bff and I scrutinized and picked over every single detail regarding implantation. We obsessed over it all day, to the point where we decided we were insane and had a pretty good chuckle at ourselves. But still... what if I'd implanted late? Maybe Tuesday I'd get a positive. I was due for a blood test also, maybe the hormones weren't high enough to show up Monday.
Tuesday morning. Also negative. But I was okay with it. Slowly, I was feeling peace. My mind had gotten over it's initial fit, and I was becoming okay with the idea that maybe my answer to prayer is No.
I was okay with that. And I also felt like I was done. But that's not really fair. I feel too selfish just quitting after one try on meds. It's so hard!! The emotions are hard! Feeling like a failure again and again, hating your body because it's broken, and that transitions into other body issues, where you hate even your appearance....
I told Matt that if I wasn't pregnant by Thanksgiving, I wanted to be finished. I want to get whatever done to take care of the girl stuff downstairs, to quit having periods, and just be finished. He agreed that that was a fair goal.
This morning, I received the absolute negative result from the doctor. I am okay. I'm at peace.
We'll be trying a higher dose of clomid this time. I just hope to God they leave the progesterone where it is. :)
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