CD11? CD14? Who knows.

I think maybe, just maybe, I’ll get a positive OPK today. All the signs are there, and the lines have been getting progessively darker on the OPKs I’ve been taking the past few days. I’m so tired of waiting, and after “O Day”, it’s just more waiting. Part of me wants to just say screw it, stop taking the OPKs, and see what happens if we just try, try, try. But I know that’s not really an option, since I have to start taking the prometrium on the day I O. So I’ll keep peeing on sticks, I guess, until I get the result I want. +OPK, +HPT, sticky baby.

 

Crash and burn.

When I was a little girl, I dreamed of growing up and having the perfect family. A loving husband, a white picket fence, two beautiful children.

A million years, a marriage, a beautiful baby girl, and two miscarriages later, I find myself grasping at straws, wondering why my perfect fairy tale is turning into a nightmare I don’t know how to wake up from.

We knew when our daughter was born that we would want more children. At least one more, maybe two. We decided that once Madeline was two, we would start trying again. When that time came, I went off the pill and we went for it. Imagine my surprise when three weeks later, I was pregnant. Imagine my devastation when two weeks after that, I wasn’t anymore.

Fast forward to a month later. Pregnant again, can you believe it?! Thrilled. A week later? Devastated. Another loss. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know why this was happening to me.  It had been so easy to get pregnant with Madeline. Now here I was, facing the cruel reality of two miscarriages. I wasn’t ready to try again. I didn’t know if I ever wanted to try again. I couldn’t just go blindly into another cycle without knowing that this wasn’t going to happen again.

My OB is an angel. She listened to all my concerns, she agreed that I shouldn’t try again without some sort of plan, without first trying to get some answers. And so she put me on a crazy amount of folic acid, a baby aspirin, vitamin b6, and a prenatal. Daily. Eight pills, every morning. We agreed that I’d also have my progesterone tested, and in the meantime, go ahead and try again.

So we did. I used OPKs to determine when I ovulated, and we tried again. On the sixth day after ovulation, I got a call from my OBs office telling me that my progesterone was low. While it’s not an ideal situation, it’s an answer! I was thrilled to have an answer, a possible reason why I kept losing pregnancies. I immediately went on a progesterone supplement and waiting for the day I could finally take a pregnancy test again.

10DPO – BFN

11DPO – BFN. And pinkish/brownish stuff. What the?

12DPO – BFN. More “what the?” going on. Cramps. AF is most definitely on her way. 4 days early than I’m expecting. My cycle is a complete mess, obviously.

I’m feeling gutted. I know it’s irrational and silly, and I know that in the grand scheme of things, in the population of women who are TTC, that four months of trying is a millisecond.

But today? I feel like giving up. I feel like throwing in the towl. I don’t want to wait another two weeks to ovulate. I don’t want to take my temperature every day or pee on a stupid OPK and try to decipher the stupid lines. I don’t want to wait another month to be pregnant again.

I know I’m overreacting. I know I shouldn’t be crying. But just for today? I’m going to allow it.