cd1 today, which is good because waiting around for my period is depressing and seems like a particularly pointed waste of time.
cd1 today, which is bad because I didn’t miraculously see two lines on a more sensitive test.
This past cycle was lovely. I ovulated a week before I expected to, which meant I hadn’t even geared up to my usual completely-insane symptom spotting for impending O. No one poked anything into my nether regions except Pea, and he was welcome there (ha). I lost some weight while on vacation (never underestimate the power of taking chemotherapy drugs, amIright?).
This past cycle I also realized I am considerably less bomb proof than I had been all through the months and months of annovulatory cycles, and the clomid cycles. Pregnant women on the street are making me flinch. Amazon TV ads for diaper services are making me tear up (I bet these are directed to me based on OPK purchases, thanks Amazon). We told the last set of parents we were struggling to conceive, and it felt like an open wound for a day for me. I think because now I really really believe I am infertile. Even if we conceive, even if we successfully have a child or children, I am an infertile, and that is making me a little bit twisted and a little bit dark inside. I wanted to avoid this aspect of infertility, the emotional and self-confidence costs. I thought I might be able to. That was arrogance, and I am facing the hubris of it now.
I still think I’m doing pretty well: I respond to femara. We have another shot (or two) with the IUI/femara plan. I’ve gotten my brain mostly around the idea of IVF. We have a free IVF cycle. Life could be so so so much harder, but that is not to say it is not hard right now.