Well, Thursday is here and the weather still sucks. I can't remember the last time we had sun all day (which is absolutely ridiculous for the end of April)! All this rain and gloom has just been adding to my emotional state...and waistline.
I haven't been running nearly enough the last couple of weeks due to the awful weather conditions. I realize that I need to get back on that train just as soon as possible and then maybe I'll feel a little better about things (and loose a couple of pounds).
I went to Dr again yesterday for the same old--b/w and internal ultrasound. The results: same follicle size as Monday but the possibility that I had already ovulated or was just about to. That information coinsided with the positive opk (ovulation predictor kit) from Tuesday. However, in my body's normal fashion-it's not quite that simple....Not only did my follicle size suck, but my temperature did not go up this morning. In fact it went down. So now, I sit here all day thinking, "well I guess my body wanted to ovulate. It got ready and then did nothing." Now, I don't know for sure that I didn't O. Tomorrow and the next day's temps will tell me that. But, I am definitely feeling more defeated.
This cycle has been awful. I was so excited for the prospects of medication and monitoring when we began a couple of weeks ago. Now here I sit: follicle size is crappy, estrogen level sucks, possibly didn't ovulate and never got anywhere close to being able to use the trigger shot. I mean, really???? I go on medication that is supposed to help produce a bigger, more viable egg and get just the opposite.
I never thought I would be in this situation. I'm sure no one with fertility issues could ever really comprehend going through the heartbreak before they were thrown head-first into this. I know it's not the end of the world and that there are so many other options we can try for future cycles but the fact that the first cycle I was medicated has gone so poorly, doesn't give me the warm and fuzzies. I mean, I fully intended on it still taking several medicated cycles, if not IUI or IVF to get that ever elusive BFP, but I thought I would at least have something going on this cycle. It didn't seem like I had that many issues with my cycle when I was told about my elevated FSH level....I guess I just didn't realize what all that diagnosis entailed.
On a side note, it is National Infertility Awareness Week and I have been reading some pretty comforting articles this week. This video is amazing. I wish I was brave enough to post it on fb. Please watch it:
What IF
The excerpt below is from another woman's blog on the Trouble TTC board on the bump. I read it today and it brought tears to my eyes. I guess I will end my pity party with this and hope that tomorrow will bring new feelings of hope and strength (and a temperature increase).
~~A Letter to my Sisters:
Infertility is like a party- a big, year or two or three or more long party that no one really wants to go to. In fact, it is a pretty lousy party, not much fun at all. But by the time you get the invitation, you are already there. Perhaps it is your doctor that gives you the invitation, or a specialist, or perhaps just plain old time that gives you the nudge that this is one party you won't be missing.
So we all show up at this party kicking and screaming. But since this party is held in our honor, we wipe our tears and look around the room. We see our mothers, our aunts, our sisters, and the lady down the street. The check-out lady is there, and so is the attorney, the school principal, and the taxi driver's wife. When we see them at first we are surprised- "I didn't know you were invited too" we say. But when we start to talk with them and learn their stories we know instantly we are sisters, and that their grief is our own, and that we aren't quite so alone.
This party is filled with sisters. My mother and perhaps yours too, was at this party once. So were many friends of mine. I am always humbled by seeing how many sisters I have here. Even as sisters leave, new ones come to take their place. I spent a long time there before it was my turn to leave. You too will leave this party someday.
There are parting gifts at this party, but most of us are so glad to leave when our time is up that we just throw them in our purse and forget they are there. Then one day, while we are looking for something else, we dig out a little box. Oh yes, our gift. We were looking for what to say to a sick friend, or perhaps how to handle some adversity that came our way and we found this little box in the bottom of our bag. We open it slowly, and there inside we find it. Endurance. Strength. Compassion. We were strong, and once walked through the fire she has made us stronger still. We have endured what would have once broken our hearts, devastated us, and come through with a strength that will not easily be silenced. And compassion. Our hearts have grown and now we can, without judgment, embrace each other in ways we couldn't before. We know the true meaning of kindness, and the value of compassion. We see humanity, for all it's sadness and all it's emptiness, and we can't do anything but wrap our arms around her in a warm, full embrace. We understand each other's sorrow, and we share our strength.
And so my Sister, stay strong. I understand how hard some days are, and I know how deeply you want this to end. Please know that it will, and that you do have the strength to endure this. You will. You will move forward because you desire this more than anything in your life. You will conceive, or you will adopt, or you will foster children. You will someday leave this place, this party in your honor, but you will remain a Sister forever.
