I have just finished my third round of Clomid 50mg and it has failed. I have a million words to put it into perspective for those who don't understand the struggle.
Every month I begin my medication regimen with the utmost amount of hope a person can have. I walk around speaking of these hopeful affirmations to everyone. I think this month I was really positive. The MOST positive I have ever been.
I start out taking Provera for seven days and wait for my cycle to begin. When I see that it has I am elated! I call R and tell him and I'm literally jumping up and down inside. THIS IS THE MONTH! THIS IS THE MONTH! R, being the most optimistic person in this world, is just as pumped up as I am. He cautiously tells me, "H, don't put so much stress on yourself. It's all in God's timing". I usually roll my eyes at this but I know it's true. I love him.
Five days into my cycle I begin the dreadful, hormonal dosage of Clomid. I sincerely become a raging bitch. "What do you MEAN what's for dinner?", is the rudest question I hear from R. I mean, seriously, you get what you are served. I flip a lid over everything and anything. Hey, it just happens.
I begin testing on the twelfth day of my cycle. This is where the real shit happens and I lose hope like never before. When a normal, fertile woman would start testing, her strips would slowly fade into a perfect positive within days. She would then make whoopie with her mate and pray for a fertilized egg. Now, what happens with a body like mine is, you start testing and all your sticks have test lines. You squint and examine that little pee stick like your life depends on it. I even started asking R, "Wanna play a game?" and ask him which line is darker. I know it saddens him to tell me that it is, of course, negative again. We then wait two weeks and I pee on anything that I can to see if I'm pregnant or having a late ovulation. Which never happens. Which hasn't happened since August.
That's the funny thing about peeing on sticks. When you get the negative it is such a heartbreaking experience. All hope is out, you walk out of the bathroom with heavy shoulders and have to tell your husband that, yet again, you are not pregnant. Life before Walker? R didn't really give much emotion about it. It's all about the timing. Life after Walker? It's written all over his face. I die a little inside when he hugs me and lets me cry in his chest.
Yesterday was a really bad day for me. I parked it on the couch and ate my feelings. I had only planned to snack on some white cheddar popcorn when I turned on the TV and saw that Dr. Phil had a young lady who was addicted to crack and heroine and pregnant on. The popcorn disappeared and so did a Snicker's and Dr. Pepper before the show had ended. I wasn't sad. I was numb.
Most nights I lay next to my husband as he snores away. He has this thing about me falling asleep first, it keeps him up all night. Weird, I know. So, I usually check Facebook, search the web with things like "When did you ovulate on Clomid days 5-9?". I'm usually led to this forum with women who are just like me and have PCOS. I just skim through their posts and hope someone is out there just like me.
Last night, while my dear husband was snoring away, I found this article.
The Disgrace of Infertility , Nate Pyle, my love, no truer words have been spoken. You are truly a gift to your wife to understand the heartbreak that she goes through.
I curled up in bed and bawled my eyes out. This article is just what I go through every. single. month. I'm thankful that I have someone like R, who just holds me and repeatedly tells me that he is happy and I haven't ruined his life. Because, you see, this is my purpose in life. I am a WOMAN. My body was made for making babies. That is it's job. That is what God made women to do. To grow babies, at their discretion. My body has failed me and at times I feel like my purpose is unknown.
Infertility is a bitch.
But it won't stop us from trying again next month with the same hope that we held on to this month.
Every month I begin my medication regimen with the utmost amount of hope a person can have. I walk around speaking of these hopeful affirmations to everyone. I think this month I was really positive. The MOST positive I have ever been.
I start out taking Provera for seven days and wait for my cycle to begin. When I see that it has I am elated! I call R and tell him and I'm literally jumping up and down inside. THIS IS THE MONTH! THIS IS THE MONTH! R, being the most optimistic person in this world, is just as pumped up as I am. He cautiously tells me, "H, don't put so much stress on yourself. It's all in God's timing". I usually roll my eyes at this but I know it's true. I love him.
Five days into my cycle I begin the dreadful, hormonal dosage of Clomid. I sincerely become a raging bitch. "What do you MEAN what's for dinner?", is the rudest question I hear from R. I mean, seriously, you get what you are served. I flip a lid over everything and anything. Hey, it just happens.
I begin testing on the twelfth day of my cycle. This is where the real shit happens and I lose hope like never before. When a normal, fertile woman would start testing, her strips would slowly fade into a perfect positive within days. She would then make whoopie with her mate and pray for a fertilized egg. Now, what happens with a body like mine is, you start testing and all your sticks have test lines. You squint and examine that little pee stick like your life depends on it. I even started asking R, "Wanna play a game?" and ask him which line is darker. I know it saddens him to tell me that it is, of course, negative again. We then wait two weeks and I pee on anything that I can to see if I'm pregnant or having a late ovulation. Which never happens. Which hasn't happened since August.
That's the funny thing about peeing on sticks. When you get the negative it is such a heartbreaking experience. All hope is out, you walk out of the bathroom with heavy shoulders and have to tell your husband that, yet again, you are not pregnant. Life before Walker? R didn't really give much emotion about it. It's all about the timing. Life after Walker? It's written all over his face. I die a little inside when he hugs me and lets me cry in his chest.
Yesterday was a really bad day for me. I parked it on the couch and ate my feelings. I had only planned to snack on some white cheddar popcorn when I turned on the TV and saw that Dr. Phil had a young lady who was addicted to crack and heroine and pregnant on. The popcorn disappeared and so did a Snicker's and Dr. Pepper before the show had ended. I wasn't sad. I was numb.
Most nights I lay next to my husband as he snores away. He has this thing about me falling asleep first, it keeps him up all night. Weird, I know. So, I usually check Facebook, search the web with things like "When did you ovulate on Clomid days 5-9?". I'm usually led to this forum with women who are just like me and have PCOS. I just skim through their posts and hope someone is out there just like me.
Last night, while my dear husband was snoring away, I found this article.
The Disgrace of Infertility , Nate Pyle, my love, no truer words have been spoken. You are truly a gift to your wife to understand the heartbreak that she goes through.
I curled up in bed and bawled my eyes out. This article is just what I go through every. single. month. I'm thankful that I have someone like R, who just holds me and repeatedly tells me that he is happy and I haven't ruined his life. Because, you see, this is my purpose in life. I am a WOMAN. My body was made for making babies. That is it's job. That is what God made women to do. To grow babies, at their discretion. My body has failed me and at times I feel like my purpose is unknown.
Infertility is a bitch.
But it won't stop us from trying again next month with the same hope that we held on to this month.
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