Gimme a Break; or, Return to the Beginning

It's funny how my perspective can change so completely in such a short time. Four months ago, I was diligently tracking my ovulation and body signs and anxiously hoping to time sex in exactly the right way to ensure the pregnancy that absolutely had to be around the corner.

Now, neither Lawyer Guy nor I believe we'll be able to get pregnant again without medical intervention. As he put it, "If we're not getting pregnant with help, how are we supposed to get pregnant without it?" So we're facing the prospect of a brief return to unassisted conception with something less than confidence and very little hope.

We didn't have an easy time deciding to take a break for the month of December. A large part of my heart wanted to barrel forward regardless of any possible impediments or scheduling complications. But Dr. W. didn't want to do an IUI with a frozen sample, because she said they are less successful. She advocated trying to squeeze in an insemination the morning of LG's flight to Vegas. But knowing the unpredictability of my body's ovulation schedule--even on Clomid--I foresaw a stressful week of sweaty palms and racing pulse at every monitoring appointment as I hoped even more than usual for progress.

Given that this is our last chance at getting pregnant without injections, we want to give it the best shot possible. So I'm reuniting with Pissy the CBEFM for a month, and then we'll tackle our last Clomid+IUI in January. Taking a month off will also give us the benefit of a later ovulation than I would have had on medication, so if my some divine miracle we manage to get pregnant this cycle and not miscarry, our due date will be a week or so later, which will make attending my sister's wedding next August more likely.

The Sloper household tends to struggle when there are difficult decisions to be made, so these have not been an easy couple of days. LG was worried that I will resent him for going on this Vegas trip and pushing our plans back, which I assured him I won't. He kept trying to get me to tell him whether I thought he should back out of the trip or not, and I refused to do that. I want him to have a nice weekend after dealing with so much stress the last several months. I also want to do everything possible to have a baby. So I just told him to do what felt right and I'd support him in it.

(And now that he booked his trip I'm having my typical horrible premonitions of plane crashes and disaster, but I'll just have to deal with that).

I guess if we have to go on a break, December's not a bad month to do it in. I've got masses of grading to finish over the next three weeks, and Christmas shopping and present wrapping, and cookie baking, and carol singing, and cocoa-drinking, and then Christmas with my family. I'm promising myself that this is the last year I will spend in limbo like this, so I should make the most of the time with LG while I have it.

Why Can't I Quit You?; or, Folie a Deux

You know how this is a break cycle? You know how I'm relaxing? You know how I'm just letting nature take it's course and not trying to intervene or stress my husband at all?

Sigh. Allow me to show you an unsent letter to an old foe:

My Dearest Pissy,

How did it all go so wrong? We had one of the best first dates of my life. We laughed, we talked, I shared my dreams and fears with you. I was so afraid to trust again, but you supported me! You gave me all the confirmation I needed, just when I'd given up hope. And you were right, dearest Pissy. You told me my Peak Days and rewarded me with a BFP. I thought we would be companions for the rest of my (reproductive) life.

But since then, everything has changed so much. You're so unpredictable. I never know how you're going to react to what I give you. I know many relationships thrive on variety, but they also need stability and security. And Pissy, your two days of High and ten days of High, your ever changing Peak days-- it all became too much. I needed some time away to clear my head. I needed to say goodbye.

But I just can't leave you. Even when I know we're no good for each other, I still can't do it alone. Pissy, the box of pee sticks from my knocked-up internet buddy arrived yesterday, and like a junky just out of a mandatory rehab stint, I was jonesing for my fix. That foil wrapper peeling away between my fingers, the slow creep of blue as the strip absorbed my pee. Pissy, it was good to be back.

Just don't tell my husband.

Your Victim, Your Lover,
Secret Sloper

Up on the Tightrope; or, Things that Don't Suck Quite As Much As Yesterday

Thanks for your encouragement the other day. I made a series of frantic, sobbing phone calls to my insurance provider and then to the doctor. The office that performed the d&c was not my regular Ob/Gyn's office and it was out of network, which I didn't know at the time (I went there because my doc recommended them). Apparently they charge $17,000 for a procedure my insurance only approves for $3,000. But based on my conversation with the billing department, I'm gathering that they go after the insurance companies for huge payments and then take what they can get without kicking it to the patient. The woman at the billing office kept saying that they will bill me (possibly the full amount though usually not), but "we understand if you can't pay."

I just have to wait for the bill to arrive next month. My mom said she's gone through this many times before and will help me follow the process to get out of paying it. So I feel a little relieved about this. Giving up our trip to Scandinavia to pay for this procedure would have just gutted me. That trip is the only thing consoling me for the fact that I won't have a sweet newborn to cuddle this summer.

Also, many thanks for your encouraging words about the egg white cervical mucus. It's comforting to know it's still possible to get pregnant without them, since Taking Charge of Your Fertility made it seem completely impossible. But I strongly suspect that I'm not actually gearing up to ovulate yet, and the 5th day of High fertility readings with no ovulatory cramps and no egg whites has me convinced. I have ewcm EVERY MONTH. TONS of it. That's the one thing I've got going for me in this whole shittastic conception scenario. I think for whatever reason, the monitor detected my rising estrogen levels really early this month and got me all excited about it, but they're actually just rising really slowly and I'll ovulate around my usual CD 20 or so.

I shouldn't be so upset about this, but I am. I know that I'm lucky to ovulate at all! I know that my cycles are within the realm of normal. But it takes so much emotional energy out of me each month when I never know when I'll ovulate or when to go at it with the sex. I feel like I'm walking on a tightrope for the two middle weeks of my cycle, and every morning that I don't see a Peak reading I have a little fall.

At least I have a bridal shower and bachelorette party today to distract me. I hope your weekends are filled with ewcm, LH surges, super-fast fertilizing spermies, fabulous ERs, implanting embabies, BFPs, and awesome ultrasounds, wherever in your cycle you may be.

Show Tunes in the Shower; or, Tell the People, Mr. Buble

You guys would not recognize me right now. I am in the high-flying manic phase of whatever DSM-IV psychosis I've been experiencing for the last four months.

I was singing "Oh What a Beautiful Mornin'" at the top of my lungs during my drive to teach this morning. Shit-eating grin every time I looked out the window. Wiggling in my seat during office hours. And then Michael Buble's "Haven't Met You Yet" came on the radio on the drive home, and I realized that song is all about surviving miscarriage and IF and getting your forever baby and whatever Michael, it totally is okay? And you might not have realized this, but nearly 30-year-old wannabe-baby-mamas driving Volvos on the BQE are totally the intended audience for this song. And for the singing and car-dancing inspired thereby.

And I'm sure part of the reason for my case of the jollies is blue skies and sunshine and mourning doves building their nests on my window sills (until Lawyer Guy notices them and whips out the broom). But the other part is this:

Peak! On CD 19! Ovaries, I love you! Body, you're forgiven! Husband, you don't realize it yet, but your bones will be jumped tonight! Baby, I can't wait to meet you in December!

In the back of my mind, I'm adding just a little to the mental file of "Why It Would Be Less Than Ideal to Get Pregnant This Month" (otherwise known as, "How To Comfort A Menstruating Woman")

But screw all that, for now. I'm going to let Mr Buble sing us out.

My Therapist's a Stoner; or, Odds and Ends

I've been contemplating switching therapists recently. Not because I actually think mine's a pothead, though I was a bit taken aback when she suggested that Lawyer Guy and I get in the sexy mood with some weed (that hasn't been our thing since I was in college. Plus, isn't it not so good for the sperm count? Plus, no). But more because I wonder if someone who specifically understands pregnancy loss/IF issues would be better for me. Mine is great for my general anxiety and procrastination, but she applies a pretty hardcore cognitive behavioral approach to all my issues, and sometimes I feel that this just doesn't work with my grief over the miscarriage. She encourages me to not let myself get sad or anxious, to "challenge" my fearful or despairing thoughts, and to try to be grateful for the fact that my body ended a presumably unhealthy pregnancy. I kind of think she doesn't get it sometimes.

But I also have this intense anxiety about hurting or upsetting people, and I always apply it to my relationships with my therapists. I left my last one by moving and never calling him again or giving him my new phone number because I was too scared to let him know I didn't want to continue as his patient. (My anxiety about hurting people's feelings goes way back--I let my mother pick out my clothes until I was 12 years old because I was afraid she'd be hurt and sad if I told her I didn't like the jumpers and little-girl outfits she bought for me). Probably something I should discuss with a therapist, huh?

* * *
I've been avoiding my good friend from high school recently. We had dinner back in early January, at which time she revealed that she and her husband were going to start "trying" that month, and that they were both nervous. I told her that since she's friends with me, she'll get pregnant first shot (I'm a freaking fertility doll or something for my friends and family).

And if you guessed that I'm now too chickenshit to call her and get together because I'm afraid she'll tell me she's pregnant or abstain from wine and I'll just know, you're the big winner!

To be fair, she hasn't called me either, which leads me to believe she's either:

a) really busy (she has a demanding job at a major international corporation and an i-banker husband who travels a lot).

b) pregnant and worried about telling me/keeping it from me.

c) not pregnant and worried that I'm pregnant.

My money's on b). Because why the hell not make it 15 pregnancy announcements in a year? Increments of five are so easy to calculate.

* * *
Here's a little bit of positive news: I got a high reading on the CBE.FM and tons of egg whites today and I'm only on CD 17! If this shakes out like the last couple of monitored cycles, I should ovulate Sunday or Monday, right around my (former) normal ovulation time of CD 21. I might be getting back to normal!

Yup, I've already calculated the due date. And planned the shower. And the "tell the parents" date. And all the rest of it. And we haven't even had sex yet.

I probably should have made time for that bikini wax.

Thickening the Plot; or, I Call In the Experts

So, two new bits of info to add to the CBEFM saga today (CD 25- still High fertility):

1. I took my temp this morning. It was 98.0. Yes, I know, one measly temp in the middle of a cycle is hardly something to build an opinion around. But I compared it to my past charts (I charted consistently from November '08-June '09) and found that I never hit 98 or above until after ovulation. My coverline was always in the 97s, usually somewhere between 97.3 and 97.8. Probably means nothing, but there you have it. My CM is also a bit less detectable. Oh, and the thermometer was pretty cold when I stuck it in my mouth (it was in a drawer for 6 months).

2. I called the CBEFM help hotline. They told me a) I'm supposed to wait 2 cycles after being pregnant before using the monitor again to give my hormones time to chill the fuck out (yeah, oops), and b) it's unlikely that I ovulated without the monitor detecting it. The woman on the phone thought that I was likely going to ovulate quite late or not at all while my body readjusts to being unpregnant (not her word). She said to keep using the test sticks until the monitor stopped requesting them, to give it more data.

BUT-- anecdotal evidence indicates you CAN ovulate without the monitor detecting it, even though they claim that's not possible. Of course, that doesn't mean I did. The latest I ever ovulated was CD 30--coincidentally, the first cycle we started TTC. And, of course, this is only the second month I'm using this thing (such drama in its short life). From what I've found online, a lot of people don't show a Peak reading the first or second months they use it, as it adjusts to their bodies and hormone levels.

So, my experienced buddies-- thoughts on the temp? Experiences using the CBEFM? Should I keep on temping? (I'm thinking of supplementing with it anyway)

I Should Be More Careful; or, Day 17

Day 17. No egg whites. CBEFM still reading low. Am I not going to ovulate on schedule this month (generally before day 22)? Or at all?

Part of me kind of wants me to not ovulate...because then I can go into the doctor next month and start testing and figure out what's going on get me knocked up through whatever means possible.

And part of me really, really wants to ovulate. Because if I don't...then maybe I have a problem and this isn't just normal, oh-it-takes-the-average-couple-at-least-six-months stuff.

I started to cry in the car this morning on my way to teach. Just thinking--I'm broken, I'm broken.

This fucking roller coaster.

The Other Side of Six; or, the Benefits of Action

Now that I've been officially trying for over 6 cycles, I feel like I've reached a milestone or crossed a bridge. I will either get pregnant within the next 6 months or I will be diagnosed with infertility problems and begin serious testing. I obviously would prefer the first outcome, but I'm glad to know the second is in reach, too.

I've always been a person who wants to know. If something's the matter, I want to be told. I'd rather work toward a solution to my problems, struggle after my dreams, and deal with sorrow and pain, than wait around in idle ignorance, letting life pass me by. The thought of "only" having six months left to conceive naturally doesn't scare me and it doesn't make me anxious. It encourages me, because however things shake out, I'll start to get some answers and make some progress. That's my coping mechanism: making a schedule, setting up the steps.

My Cle.arblue Ea.sy monitor came yesterday in the mail. My period stopped today. I'll start pee-sticking in a few days. And then--I ovulate or I don't. Depending on the outcome, this journey takes its path.

I feel good about peeing on this stupid piece of plastic, because it's a concrete action. My husband is feeling pressure, though, and we know he does not do well with that.

So those are my goals for the month: pee on sticks, see if/when I ovulate, keep my husband from knowing what the monitor says, and make things fun and relaxed for him.

Wish me luck, oh silent internet world!