I'd like to begin by extending a not-so-warm welcome to the recent visitor in my life, Aunt Flo, who has brought with her her trusty companion, Depression. I feel like myself again now - sad, tearful, despondent, etc. Good times.
Like every cycle, I imagined myself pregnant. I hate that my brain plays these tricks on me, but my IPS (imaginary pregnancy symptoms) shows up with full force every month. Complicating all of this is the fact that with 4 of my 5 pregnancies, I had what I thought was a period (bleeding, cramps, and misery! oh my!), including many negative pregnancy tests, before finding out weeks later that indeed, the IPS was not imaginary. I feel like I cannot trust my body to tell me what's really going on, and I obsess, even when it is really the red monster. So here I am - I assume I'm not pregnant so I've stopped the lovenox and progesterone.
Speaking of lovenox and progesterone, my doctor thinks there's no reason for me to begin these before a positive pregnancy test. However, with my history, I'm giving it a go from ovulation onward. Many doctors do prescribe such a regimen, so they must think it has some worth. I know I only have a year at the most of trying left in me, and I want to try everything possible so I do not look back at this time with regrets. To that end, I am considering going to an extreme, and cutting sugar and flour and alcohol completely out of my life, at least for the next six months or so. We'll see. I'm not sure I have the willpower to forgo chocolate, or the occasional bottle of wine.
Alcohol - such a guilt trip for me. I think it began when we were first trying, and I'd visit all of those silly TTC message boards. These ladies all swore off alcohol, and anything else even remotely harmful for the length of their stays in TTC land (inevitably short)and so for a long time I did too. But now, 3.5 years into this whole mess, I've fallen off the wagon. I am no alcoholic by any means, but I do occasionally like to imbibe (always after a negative HPT, of course). I know that it is not the best thing to be putting into your body when you're trying to put a little one in there too, but I enjoy beer. And wine. And, while my babies may be dead, I am still very much alive. Now that I feel we're nearing the end of the TTC road, though, I think it's worthwhile to give teetotalling a chance.
Writing about those message boards I used to visit - where, daily it seemed, some lady who had been trying for all of three months would post something ridiculous like "We're finally pregnant!!" - reminded me of something that happened at work the other day. A client came in to to buy food for her cats, and announced, "We're going to have a baby!" Since she is a larger woman, and could have been near the end of her pregnancy for all I knew, I asked her when she was due. "I'm 6 weeks, five days" she replied. And a whole rush of emotions clambered into my head. First was jealousy - welcome back as well, green eyed bitch - not just because she was pregnant, but also because of the innocence and joy she radiated. Oh, how lovely to just assume that pregnancy=baby! I know that I will never ever have that. Even if I get knocked up next month with a healthy pregnancy, I will be worried and anxious and scared shitless the entire length of the pregnancy. Such is the life of the semi-fertile. And then - and I'm quite proud of myself for this, because it reflects at least some emotional maturity on my part - I worried for her. About her. And I even said a little prayer to the god I no longer believe in that everything goes well for her, and that she never has to experience untelling people about her baby. Because I know how life-ruining that can be, and there are far too many of us in baby loss land as it is. Stay pregnant, cat lady. Please.