I started to write a post this morning that went a little something like this:
So…remember that happy girl from yesterday? The one who was communing with the universe, huffing unicorn farts, and making the real me sick to my stomach with her candy-coated positivity?
Yeah. I killed her.
Melodramatic? Perhaps. An accurate description of my near-meltdown this morning? Absolutely.
Something threw a kink into all my nicely-laid-out plans this morning. That something was another faaaaaiiiint second line on my OPK. Not the dark line I was expecting. Cue complete panic.
I was thrown into a tailspin through that familiar downward spiral, where my thought process goes from dark to darker at about the same rate as my racing heart.
Oh my god, this isn’t going to work. We missed it. I already ovulated, earlier than I ever have, and we missed it. This cycle is down the drain. Failure. Or worse. That stupid cyst gobbled up all the meds, and I’m not going to ovulate at all. This cycle and all future cycles are going to be fucked because of it. No wonder I wasn’t feeling any side effects. It’s not doing anything but feeding that cyst, which I’ll have to have surgically removed, which will set us back I don’t know how many cycles before we can move on to IVF. Can we please just move on to IVF? I want to be monitored, I want to make sure shit’s going down the way it’s supposed to. What if I don’t respond to the injections, either? What if my body fails me again, just like this stupid cycle? We’ll blow all our savings on an endeavor that will yield no children. Stupid, stupid Clomid.
Maybe this is the crazy I was waiting for.
I woke Hubby up early to inform him he should just go ahead and masturbate while I’m at work today because we’re now looking at Saturday at the earliest for the first IUI. And then another one on Sunday. I’m glad my clinic will be open those two mornings, but it limits us to using one sperm sample per IUI, which totally defeats what we were trying to do with this attempt in the first place.
I tried to focus at work. Thank goodness for people with problems bigger than mine to distract me and/or put things in perspective. When I did get a break, I googled the shit out of ovulation and Clomid, reading that it can both hurry and delay ovulation. I’m hoping for the latter.
And that’s all I can do. Keep monitoring this cycle, waiting for that tell-tale second line, call the clinic, and go from there. One day at a time.
I tried to predict the future. Look where that got me.