Round 1

So, my first round of Clomid failed.

There, I said it. I’m trying to get the bad news out of the way so that I can move on, although by now I mostly have. I will say though, that when I got that call from my doctor’s office, the one that simply said “your pregnancy test came back negative,” I was crushed. I can’t explain it, but the news hit me harder than I ever expected it would. I mean, I’ve gotten several much-worse phone calls throughout this process, and against that spectrum it should not have been all that tragic. But still, without warning, as soon as I heard those words, I found myself falling apart—tears running down my cheeks as I hung up the phone, followed by a quick bathroom-cry-session at work. I managed to hold it together, barely, for the rest of the work day, but as soon as I sat down on the train home, I let myself fall apart all over again. Luckily Tim was on the train with me that day, so we just put his arm around me and let me cry, silently, while pretending to listen to my “This American Life” podcast.

Anyway, that’s all I’ll say about that. I was sad, and surprised by how sad I was, but I am moving forward. I just finished my SECOND round of Clomid two nights ago, and now I’m back in the thick of it. I have another doctor’s appointment tomorrow morning to check on the growth of my follicles—hopefully I have one or two that are almost large enough, which would mean I’d be ovulating very soon. I am praying for good news!

Last month I also had several good-sized follicles, so that was encouraging. Also, with the help of my doctor and some very strong and foul-tasting lozenges, I got my progesterone levels up to 348. 348!!! To give you a frame of reference, doctors like to see levels in the 20s-30s. The lowest my progesterone has ever dropped, during my first pregnancy, was 4. So this was CRAZY news! I asked the doctor if he was concerned with these extremely high levels, and he said not at all—on the contrary, it means that I definitely ovulated, and that my body was absorbing the progesterone with ease. Both of these things were GREAT NEWS. It also meant that I was feeling like a raging psychopath—sore, achy, tired, hungry, crabby, you name it. I was a big mess, and this is part of the reason why I was hoping—praying—that I was pregnant, because I sure felt like it. Alas, I was not, and the symptoms were all progesterone-related. But I will not call it a ‘waste.’ I am really trying to embrace my cross this month, and soldier on solemnly. It is not easy, believe me. But I am really, really, REALLY trying.

My only complaint (though I am trying to limit that as well) for this second round of Clomid is that I’ve been getting terrible HOT FLASHES. Yes, you read that correctly. I’ll be sitting at work, minding my own business, when all of the sudden I am sweating much too much for comfort. At first I thought, what the heck?! I even asked my co-worker a few times if she was burning up, too! I thought I was crazy, until I mentioned it to my doctor. He told me that yes, hot flashes are a very common side effect of Clomid, and that if I am feeling them, that is my brain signaling my body to make more estrogen. So okay, make it already! I’m dyin’ over here!

Other than that I am hanging in there. Haven’t started the second round of progesterone yet, which is what brings the real symptoms. But I’m ready. Born ready, actually.

We will be trying things a little differently this month. I will spare you the TMI and details, but if you’re ever curious, I’d be happy to share what has worked and what has not.

The human body is such a complex and mysterious thing—it is really amazing to me, and frustrating, and terrible, and wonderful, all at the same time. But you know what’s even more mysterious? The human spirit. Mine has taken a beating this year, there’s no denying that. In fact, I told my dad this week that I feel like I have been doing the spiritual equivalent of bench-pressing 1,000 pounds every day for the last year. But he gave me a little exercise to practice, and I have begun employing it when my stress gets to be too much. He simply told me to recite this prayer: “Lord have Mercy, Christ have Mercy, Lord have Mercy,” and to project this into the world around me. He explained that if I ask God for Mercy for the world and for others, and if I focus my prayers on this mission, I will become ‘detached’ from my overwhelming desire for children. Not detached from children, but from the ‘desire,’ the ‘I want it NOW!’ that keeps me so tightly imprisoned. And so, I am praying, slowly, quietly. As upset as I still get, I feel God near me. As I cling to my prayers, I know He will only draw me closer.

I have also found great comfort in praying The Chaplet of the Seven Sorrows of Mary. Surrounding myself in her maternal grief and sorrow has been really powerful. She suffered so deeply; many seem to overlook that. I am glad to have a Mother who understands my pain so well, that she advocates on my behalf for my own happiness and peace. Luckily, I have a mother (and father) here on earth that do the same thing.

So, for now, I am back to waiting. Waiting waiting waiting. Waiting for the ice to thaw. Waiting for my prayers to resonate. Waiting for a blessing beyond my imagination, but trying, desperately, to bear my cross with patience and courage. One step at a time. 

God, give me strength.

xoxo,

E