So we completed our first round of Clomid. That was back in August. I hemmed and hawed about writing in the midst of it all but decided to hold out. There were some revelations that I think need time to percolate and distance to digest. I want to document this process but I don’t want it to be all doom and gloom and hormones, which in the moment it can be. Apparently.
To start with there are a lot of things that I forgot. There was a reason I forgot them too because they suck. For example it was the second (maybe the third) day of the pill, which by the way is so super small it’s hard to wrap my mind around how we are putting our hopes and dreams into something that I could easily drop down the sink, but I digress. I got into bed that night while Juanito was reading and I threw my limbs about the bed, kicking off covers and loudly complaining that it was so damn hot. Yes, it is Phoenix and it was August but good God! I felt like I was on fire. Melting from the inside out. Juanito very nonchalantly mentioned that I was on the drugs. And then it dawned on me, he was right. Clomid has a way of sky rocketing my body temperature making me feel like I’m boiling, slowly. I’m a hot-blooded person by nature coupled with living in the Valley of the Sun Stroke which means air conditioning and me are like the sorority sisters I never had with a secret handshake and everything. So when you throw in some Clomid I’m a four alarm fire of whining. Juanito offered to bring a fan into the room that would be directly on me, which is what we did when I was pregnant. I declined because it would throw my temps. Which brings me to my next complaint.
I hate taking my temperature every day the exact same way. I hate that if I move too much in the morning to try and get my thermometer that it will affect my temps. I hate that if I forget to take my temp and instead focus on my screaming bladder of screaming son then my chart is all off. It seems so simple and even petty when I’m writing this but truly and honestly I forgot about the temperature tether.
Oh, I tried OPKs this time around. (OPKs = ovulation predictor kits) They never worked for me the first time around but I thought hey, I’ve got some under the sink why not. I also found my Satin Hands kit from Mary Kay under there and might do a little Satin Hands treatment on my feet. Maybe even Cass’ feet. And while I know that they don’t work for me (OPKs not Satin Hands), I was still sad to pee on a stick (POS) and get a negative. For anything. It was disheartening to not see a double line.
I never got a positive-OPKs. I never got a temperature spike on my chart. I never got a positive home pregnancy test. I never ovulated during my first round. I wasn’t expecting too much because logically I know my body. But I did have a lot of hope going into this. Hope that I need to bottle for the forthcoming rounds. I did get to go see the doctor mid-cycle for him to ensure that I did not develop cysts (which I didn’t) and they checked my hormone level to see if I was even close to ovulating (which I wasn’t). They will up my dosage for the next round.
I’m a little sad. I’m a little less excited. I think we started this time around thinking well we did it before we can do it again. I guess we forgot to tell my ovaries. The value of hindsight, ya, I’m still waiting for that. I know that we are doing everything we can to make this happen. I know that in time it will happen. I find myself wondering if this is what my family is supposed to be and to be happy with what is in front of me. I need to remember to not settle for what I have but believe that there is more to our family.