August 23rd

I was woken up this morning by a very whiny, very needy cat. Rocky was meowing and pawing beneath the door, a habit that drives us up the wall but we haven't corrected much lately as long as he waits until at least 7:30 (which is when I'm SUPPOSED to get up) to start. I turned off my alarm, determined to sleep in, when I remembered that I'm supposed to take a pregnancy test this morning. Today I am 12dpo, and even though the test had come up negative on Wednesday, there was a chance that it was a false negative. I wasn't all that excited, but it was enough to get me out of bed.

I peed on a FRER and then waited for the line(s) to show up. It took less than a minute for a solid pink line to appear on the right side of the window. A single line. Negative. Yet again.

I can't say that I was disappointed, really. At this point I'm just tired. I sat with my head in my hands and wondered, What is wrong with me? Is our timing completely off? Am I not ovulating? Are we fertilizing successfully, but just failing to implant? I thought about the corpus luteum cyst I had on my right ovary during my last pregnancy, and my failure to get a follow-up exam for it after the miscarriage (I couldn't stand the thought of yet ANOTHER ultrasound in another depressing pregnancy-centric room), and I wondered if it was still there and mucking things up. I thought about calling Dr. D and making an appointment for January, after our next inevitably failed cycle, and winced at the thought of the tests and medications that lie ahead.

And then I looked back at the test, and there was a second line. It was faint - so faint that I couldn't be sure that my eyes weren't playing tricks. I woke Marcus up to make sure - and he could see it too. It darkened slowly and by the time ten minutes had passed, I could see the second line at arms' length even without my glasses on. It was absolutely, undeniably, amazingly POSITIVE.

I have a lot on my mind right now and not enough time to get into it all, friends. But you can expect a lot more entries from me, especially now that I have more to write about.

I'm trying not to get too excited. Anything can happen. It's still really, really early, and my chances of a loss are very high. But at least we made it this far. At least I know it's still possible.

My due date is August 23, 2009. May this one stick around long enough to meet us then.

The Battle Begins

Today I am 10dpo. This time every month, I start to get antsy. This is the point at which a FRER (First Response Early Response) could possibly show a positive. Between today and 13dpo lies the Gulf of False Negatives, a torturous place in which the sticks come up white but hope is still hurtfully alive. As I do every month, I try to hold out for as long as I can. The first month we were ttc I think I tested on 7dpo or something crazy like that. The last month, I somehow managed to make myself wait until 11dpo. Here's a nifty chart to illustrate my relationship with early testing:



Right now I'm trying to focus on Friday. That would be 12dpo and my chances of a false negative are much lower. If I make it that long, I can be proud of myself.

And To Think, I Used To Be The Kid Picked Last For Sports

I subbed for an absentee curler on a team of strangers last night, and while my team ultimately lost, I didn't do too badly and even had my ego stroked quite a bit by a couple of the senior curlers. After delivering one of my stones, a woman who has been curling for over five years remarked, "You have the most beautiful form I've ever seen on a new curler." (I'd heard the sentiment before from other new curlers, but this was the first time a seasoned curler had commented on my form.)

Late in the game, my team's skip (for you non-curlers out there, the skip is the captain and main strategist of the team) pulled me aside and said, "You curl very well. I was wondering if you'd be interested in being on my team in the second half of the season. That way I'll technically have a new curler, [it's mandatory to have players of mixed experience on a team in the casual leagues - August] but we'll have an advantage!"

The fact that I was being recruited to be a sort of newbie ringer on someone's team was pretty damn flattering, especially since I've only been at the sport for about 6 weeks! After we lost, the woman told me, "You're going to be an awesome curler. Let me guess - you've always been a jock?" Taken aback, I laughed and told her that I have always sucked at sports, but I was ever-so-grateful for the compliment.

I've been in a pretty good mood lately because I'm positive that I actually ovulated this cycle. I know, we're supposed to be on a break from ttc - and we are. I haven't touched that thermometer or microscope even once. But my usual post-ov symptoms, which I haven't had in a couple of months, kicked in pretty strongly on cycle day 15. The familiarity of my symptoms is assuring even if we aren't pregnant this cycle; I'm just glad to know that my plumbing still works even occasionally.

If something has made you smile lately, share it here. I'm all about the good news lately!

TTC: Cycle 6

Verdict: Failure.
Future Prospects: SUCK.

As you can see in the chart below, I gave up early on in the cycle. We had sex a couple of times during my fertile phase (if I had a fertile phase), but I didn't bother recording it. My growing sense of futility is not such a great motivator to chart diligently, as it turns out.

This past cycle was particularly unfair, in that my period was a couple of days late, but the tests still came up negative. The last time my period was late (an entire year ago, now), I was pregnant. This time...not so much.

In the meantime, Fertility Friend is throwing a fit because my subscription is about to expire. I don't intend to renew it for now. Doctor D wants to see me if the next couple cycles are a bust, so I'm going to take break from charting for the next two months. It's just such a pain in the ass to deal with the temping and all that, just to see every damn cycle to come to the same disappointing end.

Okay, I Surrender!

I'm giving up on this cycle. My temps don't indicate a thermal shift and my microscope also says that I have not ovulated. I'm really just getting tired of it all.

You see the look on Charlie's face? That is how I feel about this cycle.



In other news, I officially joined the curling league today. Dodgeball season ends in two weeks and I need something to keep myself occupied (and to make sure I leave the house and socialize with others!) until we finally catch an egg.

Now I'm off to tend to my pulled groin! (Note to self, stretch before curling.)

A Good Weekend Makes For A Lazy Cycle

I'm still floating cheerfully on my natural high from an astounding weekend, which has resulted in my being rather lazy with temping, checking cervical mucus and cervical position, and spitting on my tiny microscope. I know you must be wondering, "What could have happened that was so wonderful that August has managed to relax her neurotic grip on ttc?" Allow me to share!

Thursday was like any other day, except for the fantastic dodgeball match we had that evening. I played better than I have all season: I threw further and more accurately, I dodged more quickly, and I caught more balls. My team lost the match (as per usual) but played competitively and managed to win four of the games - and I ended one of those games. There were three of us and two of them left, and I hit one of them out and caught the last guy's ball (he threw it at me while I was distracted with the other guy) in short order. The other team was friendly, playful, and overall a joy to play with.

Friday was a whirlwind of activity. I went to work, ran around like a madwoman trying to do as much as I could in four hours, before leaving to pick up my bridesmaid's dress from the seamstress at David's Bridal. I had about fifteen minutes to breath before I had to shower and dress for the rehearsal. I met the brides and their families at the hotel where the reception was going to be held, we drove to the church and rehearsed the ceremony, went to the restaurant for dinner (one set of grandparents was accidentally left behind at the hotel - d'oh!), and had a grand ol' time with our friends. After dinner, Marcus and I spent the night in the brides' apartment caring for their dog, while they spent the night in their plush hotel suite.

On Saturday we woke up, let the dog out to pee, went to my mom's house to pick up the wedding gifts that she'd bought, then went home, where I promptly panicked when I realized that I couldn't find the shawl to my gown, tore the house apart for half an hour looking for it, then remembered that I'd left it at my mother's house for safekeeping two weeks ago. I showered, grabbed my gown and my shoes, went BACK to my mother's house to pick up the shawl, then went to the hotel for wedding pictures and more running around like a crazy person. The ceremony was beautiful, the brides were gorgeous, and afterwards I got properly smashed at the reception (oh, the joys of waiting to ovulate) and danced my ass off (but not before being reduced to tears while offering a toast to the lovely newlyweds). My husband, who in our three years together has neither seen me drunk nor seen me dance, was absolutely tickled by the sight.

On Sunday morning, a friend and I took a three hour course called "Learn to Curl," where we learned the ins and outs of sliders, grippers, skips, houses, and stones. I had a certain advantage and learned how to shoot the stone rather quickly, as it requires a honed sense of balance - and as a mountain unicyclist, I can say pretty confidently that I am a well-balanced person. I've got to say that I absolutely love curling, and Marcus and I will be returning on Saturday to participate in their breakfast game.

Today is Tuesday, and my abs and thighs are still incredibly sore from dogding, dancing, and curling. I've got another dodgeball game tomorrow night, so hopefully my muscles will feel a tiny bit better by then. Even after all these months and all the frustration, a part of me is very grateful that I got to experience this weekend with no limitations. If I were pregnant, I would not have drank; and if I hadn't drank, I would not have relaxed enough to dance at my sister's wedding, which felt wonderful, as I haven't really danced in about 8 years! It may be a strange thing to be grateful for, but grateful I am. It was a wonderful, heartwarming, amazing celebration, and I'm glad that I got to fully partake.

TTC: Cycle 5

Verdict: Failure.
Future Prospects: Meh.

See that temperature spike just two days before the end of the cycle? Yeah, that's never happened before. My highest temp of every cycle has always been on the sixth day past ovulation (and in one case, the seventh). To see it on 12dpo caught me completely off guard, and I actually spent all of Wednesday thinking that I really just might be pregnant. I really did. I was surprised and disappointed on Wednesday night to see the negative test result, but still hopeful. I decided that if Thursday's temp remained high, I would test again, and if not - well, I knew what that meant.

As you can see, Thursday's temp was almost an entire degree lower than Wednesday's. My hopes were dashed and my day was ruined just 2 minutes after I woke up, and I remained in a bitter, tearful mood for most of it (as yesterday's post can tell you).

My consolation is that we get to approach the next cycle with a brand new tool - my microscope. I don't know if it will work, but it's comforting to have something to try.

Dr. D And Why I Think I Might Keep Her

My pre-conception appointment went much as I expected. She told me to relax, take my vitamins, and to call her if I wasn't pregnant by January (which is a mere 3 cycles away), or to call if I do get pregnant before January. I had blood drawn to test my immunity to Rubella and Toxo among other things, and to screen for sickle cell anemia.

The place was small, quiet, and pleasant. Classical music played softly from somewhere behind the receptionists' desk. The waiting room was full of pamplets and 90% of the magazines were child or parenting related, but there was also Time, so that was something. The nurse and receptionist were both very kind and easy to work with. The doctor was soft-spoken (in a gentle way; not in a nervous way like my primary care physician - he always seems like he's on the edge of a nervous breakdown) and took care to fully explain her professional opinion to me rather than just bossing me around.

This may sound kind of sad, but what I liked best about the whole experience was the exam room. There was a poster about BMI on the door, and a poster about eating healthy and another one about menopause on the wall next to the table. There were pamphlets everywhere about safe sex and menopause and all sorts of things relating to women's sexual health. There were no pictures of babies. There were no posters of developing fetuses. It was unlike any other OB/GYN exam room in that there was nothing there to remind me of my loss. It was a relief.

Dr. D invited me into her office before and after my exam, which happens to be where she keeps all of the pregnancy-related pamplets and information. I wondered if it was deliberate and what her reasons were. In any case, it was refreshing to visit an OB/GYN and not walk out of the office depressed, anxious, and let down.

Hopefully this is the start of a beautiful relationship.

My First Pre-Conception Appointment, Or: That Thing I Should Have Done Six Months Ago

I'm seeing a new doctor today, which makes me nervous, as it always does. I've got a long history of dealing with doctors that do not take my concerns seriously, condescend to me, and just overall are professionals that I have been unable to trust. I've had some rather good doctors, certainly, but they're outnumbered by the ones I hated dealing with.

Sometimes the consequences of being completely dismissed by my doctor were minor. In high school I started getting rashes on my mouth that became increasingly bloodier and difficult to deal with. At one point my mouth was actually sealed almost completely shut by scabs for about a week, leaving me unable to speak. My dermatologist insisted relentlessly that it was the result of dry skin, and kept telling me to apply chapstick or Vaseline. As it got worse, it became his mantra: just keep moisturizing. After a couple months of hell, I realized that the rashes were an allergic reaction to all of the gunk I was putting on my mouth; once I stopped moisturizing, they went away. To this day I can't have ANYTHING on my mouth (not even the natural stuff like Burt's Bees), and I live with chronically chapped lips (sexy!).

Sometimes the consequences were not so minor: I spent almost an entire year in pain and vomiting almost daily because my GI doctor insisted that I'd simply become lactose intolerant, when the truth was I'd been living with an undiagnosed infection in my esophagus that was only getting more severe as time went on. I ended up dropping out of college (I had a full scholarship and everything!) because I was so ill. That was no minor consequence.

So yes, I have trust issues when it comes to doctors. I won't be seeing my last OB/GYN again, as she disappointed me in several respects with the way she dealt with me after my miscarriage. I'm seeing a new OB/GYN today and I found her just like I've found every other doctor I've ever seen: I picked her name randomly out of my insurance directory. I intend to talk to her about our efforts to conceive and to maybe get some bloodwork done, and while I don't expect her to work miracles or be able to answer my every paranoid question, I do hope that she is confident in her knowledge without being cocky, sensitive to my concerns instead of dismissive, and able to communicate her professional opinion without being pushy or condescending.

Wish me luck.

Just One More Day

The Verizon guy is due to come by tomorrow. Hopefully we'll get this Internet thing straightened out then and I can get back to blogging regularly (and so I can finally research the answers to my last Pregnant Lady Quiz!). Right now my only dependable online access is at work, which doesn't help much.

In the wonderful world of trying to conceive, I think that I'm going to concede to Fertility Friend; I don't think anymore that this was an anovulatory cycle. Perhaps it was just a less progesterone-y cycle. Despite the lack of post-ov symptoms, my usual luteal temperature pattern (temperature spike at 6 dpo, then a rocky downward trend leading inevitably to the premenstrual plunge) is spot on. I suppose I should be grateful for the fact that I can now recognize what a failed chart looks like a week before my period is due; I haven't tested even once and I don't think that I'm going to. My chart looks exactly like it always does.

On a sadder note (don't I always have one?), one of the women who lost her pregnancy last month managed to get pregnant again immediately, and just as quickly lost the second one. Two miscarriages in two months. The stuff of fucking nightmares.

I cleaned up cat puke three times today. How was everyone else's weekend?

My Baby's First Microscope

Despite Fertility Friend's insistence to the contrary, my husband and I are rather sure that I did not ovulate at all this cycle. My temps are strange and I've experienced precisely none of my usual pre- or post-ovulatory symptoms. As frustrating and disappointing as it is, the occasional anovulatory cycle is not considered a big deal in the world of young mommy hopefuls. It happens to every normal woman at some point, and can be a result of a range of things, from stress to diet to medication.

In order to clear up some of the confusion I've felt about my last few cycles, I finally broke down and invested in an ovulation predictor: a microscope.

When I first heard about fertility microscopes, I thought that they were a scam. Seriously, I thought it was bunk (of which there is no shortage) designed to target desperate mother-hopefuls. The idea of pinpointing ovulation by looking at your spit through a microscope seemed...well, like something that somebody made up.

But after doing a little bit of reading, I realized that these things are legit. Apparently, as a woman approaches ovulation and her estrogen levels rise, the salinity of her saliva increases as well. The salt actually starts to crystallize as her hormones peak, resulting in the appearance of fern-like structures, which can be viewed under a microscope. Check out the progression below:

Not fertile: Kinda fertile: Fertile!

There are many brands out there, and after perusing some websites and reviews, I chose the Maybe MOM Mini Ovulation Microscope. I chose it primarily because of the microscope's lifetime guarantee and because of their FDA approval. It just looks like a fat little stick of lipstick and is just as portable (not that I need to carry a microscope around with me - I just leave it in my bedstand - but whatever, the option is there, I guess).

Technically, this cycle is not over yet and I'm in the two week wait, but I'm positive that it's a bust. I am eager to see if the microscope lives up to the hype, so I'll just be waiting patiently until my next O day.

Go Egg, Go!

I have no idea what my temperatures are doing. I may have ovulated already (my temps indicate it somewhat), but I'm not really sure. I don't have any of my usual post-O symptoms, I haven't had any of the good CM yet, and really, I just have a hunch that it hasn't happened.

I wish that I could lay an egg and that my husband could just fertilize it with a syringe full of goo and then stick it back in my uterus for safekeeping. It's admittedly a creepy thing to daydream about, but I'm tired of this crap and I'd appreciate a more straightforward method even if it does resemble the reproductive cycle of some freaky ranine-marsupial hybrid.

In any case, I can't wait to go home tonight. After my dodgeball game, we're going to a VP debate party (drinking + politics = ????), and then tomorrow we are celebrating our second anniversay of wedded bliss. I can't wait.

Perhaps Things Are Not As They Seem

After being surprised by last month's cycle (which ended two days earlier than expected) and being downright baffled by this last cycle (three whole days?!!), I decided to re-examine my assumptions. While it would seem that my luteal phase - the progesterone-dominated phase of the menstrual cycle between ovulation and menses - is suddenly shortening, the fact is that LPs don't often vary in length by more than a day, if at all. For me to suddenly go from having a 14 day LP to an 11 day LP is ridiculously unlikely.

What's probably happening, which I am loathe to admit (even though it's the least ominous possibility), is that my LP is normal and that I've been ovulating earlier than my chart indicates. If I count back 14 days from the end of my last cycle, that puts my actual ovulation at cycle day 12 instead of 15 - meaning that our timing for sex was actually really very awful this past month, with one encounter happening 3 days before ovulation and one on the day after. Ouch.

Fertility Friend's own FAQ confirms my suspicion:

The luteal phase (the time between ovulation and menstruation) does not usually vary much from cycle to cycle, while the follicular phase (the time between menstruation and ovulation) can vary considerably. A variance of more than a day or two in your luteal phase usually means that ovulation may have occurred earlier or later than your chart indicates on one or more cycles and you may need to make some adjustments to your charts.

So, there you have it. It's a bit frustrating to think that there was probably little to no chance of success in the last two cycles due to our poor timing, especially considering the money and energy wasted on testing. But I prefer failure due to a human/software error over an actual biological deficiency any day of the week.

On the plus side, I still get to participate in the first four weeks of dodgeball season. Go, balls, go!

TTC: Cycle 4

Verdict: Failure.
Future Prospects: ...

My period showed up 3 whole days early this time, which is unheard of. My luteal phase was only 11 days long. I don't even know what to say about this. I just really don't know what to say.

A [Not So] Brief History Of Passion

For as long as I can remember, I've wanted badly to be a mother. Some little girls want to be dancers when they grow up, some little girls want to be revolutionists, some little girls want to be Mensans, and some little girls want to be the best athlete/writer/doctor/fire fighter that they can be. I wanted to be quite a few of these things at one time or another as a child; but I changed my mind about as often as I changed the barrettes in my hair. The one thing I never changed my mind about or doubted was that I wanted to be a mother. There was no doubt about that, ever.

Like many teens, I became sexually active while still in high school. Unlike enough teens (unfortunately) I immediately took responsibility of my sexuality; weeks after losing my virginity, I started on the pill (and stayed on it for almost a decade). I made my appointments for Pap smears and STD screenings every 6 months, and I did all that I could to help my friends do the same. I helped a few of my peers make appointments with the clinic and then drove them there; I compiled all the information I could find about safe sex, pregnancy symptoms, and STDs on inconspicuously labeled floppy disks (remember those?) and distributed them to my friends; I took as many condoms from the free clinic as I was allowed and gave them out to anyone who asked; and I even showed a friend the proper way to put on a condom using an empty wine bottle as a prop. I was known among my friends as the go-to girl for information and advice about safe sex. I would help anyone that needed help, and I would do it without judgment.

I always practiced what I preached, but as I got older and entered committed relationships that I thought would last forever (I'm grateful that they did not, and my husband might be too), a little voice inside my head started to complain. She was getting a bit antsy, with all this sex and none of the pregnancy. But she understood that the time was not right, and it would not be fair to me or any child I had to jump the gun. I wanted badly to become a mom, but I did not want to be a teen mom.

College was more difficult. By then the little voice was not quite as impatient, as I was in a long-term relationship that I was pretty sure would end in marriage [Insert silent prayer of thanks here for that relationship's dismal failure], but she was starting to become paranoid. What if something were not right with me? How could I be sure that I was capable of pregnancy? How could I be sure that I would not have a miscarriage someday?

Back then, miscarriage was a bogeyman to me. It was this beast that lurked deep in my mind, and I was sure that if I ever saw its face, I would not survive the encounter. I had the naive privilege back then of believing that miscarriages were these rare anomalies that only happened to women that had something wrong with them. It terrified me.

In my early twenties, that voice once again began to get impatient. I was not a child anymore, I was not a teenager, but the situation was still not right, dammit! My boyfriend was dragging his feet on the marriage thing (praise Zeus!), and as I started to realize that our relationship was a mess that could not be salvaged (which happened around the time that I realized that his drinking habits were like not your typical college binge drinker, but much more insidious), that little voice inside started to despair. Nothing was happening like I always thought that it would. I had waited, patiently, and the time was still not right.

Surprisingly, less than a year after breaking up with the alcoholic, I met an amazing man. He was so amazing that I broke my vow to be single for a while so that we could date. So amazing that we were married less than a year after we met (on a Tuesday!). So amazing that even though he snores and hogs the bed at night, I love him with all my anxious little heart.

Anyway, after I got married, the little voice inside that for years had only whispered and whined started to yell. I wanted to start trying within a year of our wedding. He wanted to start trying significantly later. It was something we fought about regularly - the only thing we really fought about. When we bought a house of our own, that little voice evolved into a full-fledged banshee. We finally came to an agreement; we would start trying after Christmas.

I got pregnant in November, a month before we were supposed to start trying. I can't really call it an accident, as we had gotten lazy with the condoms (but if you can't have spontaneous unprotected sex with your spouse, then who can you do it with?), and I would never call it a mistake. But it was unplanned. And intensely joyful. And entirely too short.

About a month or two after the loss, I encountered a feeling that I had never once imagined possible. I did not want to be pregnant. I was terrified of the very thought. And rather than being a relief, it was devastating. My one faithful desire, the only thing I have ever been sure of in my life...was gone. I was unsure. I didn't know who I was without it.

This might all seem a bit silly. But everyone has their passions, and while there are people who would be quick to dismiss mine because it's "only" motherhood, I can assure you that the passion I have always had for being a mother is just as valid, just as alive and organic, as some people's passion for music. Some people have a talent for dancing, and they need to dance to be happy. I have a talent with children, and all I've ever wanted to do was raise a couple of my own.

Time healed my uncertainty. It may have happened gradually, but it sure didn't feel that way. One moment I didn't know what I wanted; five minutes later, after listening to this song for the millionth time and having yet another good cry, I did. It was an astonishing relief.

And now here I am. For better or for worse, I suppose.

------------------

My chart looks a little different this cycle. I'm on CD8 and today is my highest temp of the cycle so far, and hopefully it just continues upwards. On my other failed cycles, my temperature peaked at CD5 or CD6 and then it was all downhill from there, tanking around CD9 or CD10. It might not mean anything, but then again, it might. It's different. I know what my chart is supposed to look like and this one has just been different, even pre-ov. Hopefully different means good.

I'm waiting until Saturday morning, when I'm on CD12, to test. I have a date with the stick after my daily romantic interlude with my thermometer. And I'm nervous. I hate seeing those stark white negatives. I hate wishing to see something that will not be there. I hate thinking Yes? and being consistently told No.

I hate putting my hand on my stomach and wondering, Are you there? and being told, time and time again, There is no one here with you.

Ugh

My stomach is upset. I really, really would rather not go into work, but I might be in enough trouble as it is since I was supposed to come in for an hour or two over the weekend and I did not. I haven't been feeling well the past couple of days (hence the lack of posts, my apologies). I've been antisocial and stand-offish (I didn't go a party that I had been really looking forward to). And this morning my stomach feels icky.

Marcus thinks that I'm pregnant, because I became antisocial and stand-offish the last time I was pregnant (hurray, hormone cocktail!). I think that it's too soon to tell. In any case, it's too soon to test.

But I am definitely queasy this morning. Blech.

An Upgrade In The Bedroom

I took the day off from work today, as I have the privilege of sitting around waiting for our new bedroom set to be delivered. It includes a nice little cherry sleigh bed - a considerable upgrade from our old set-up (a futon mattress on the floor...yeah) - a dresser, mirror, chest, and a couple of nightstands. The best part about it is the fact that it's all free, courtesy of my parents as a belated wedding gift!

Other than that, there's nothing much going on. I'm fairly sure that Fertility Friend is mistaken about my ovulation date, as my temperature has now skyrocketed and my normal post-O symptoms have made an appearance (the main one being that my nipples now hurt VERY badly). If it's wrong, it won't admit it for a few days; and if it doesn't admit it at all, I'll almost certainly do a manual override and change the date. It's a very useful software, but it does have its failings, and overall I trust myself more than I trust it.

In either case, I'm now in the next phase of my cycle: Resisting the Urge to Test Compulsively, which is significantly less exciting and also more expensive than the preceding phase, Boning Like Rabbits. Here we go again.

Fertility Friend And I

If the Fertility Friend software were able to communicate intelligently, this is what an AIM conversation between us would look like today:

augustdreamt: my temperatures for the past several days have been weird. usually my pre-ovulation temps are all over the place, but instead they've been steadily rising
fertilityfriend: hey that is weird. what was ur temp this morning?
augustdreamt: it was high
augustdreamt: 97.77
fertilityfriend: oh that explains it. u ovulated on friday
augustdreamt: what?
fertilityfriend: u ovulated. congrats!
augustdreamt: but you told me i wasn't due to O until monday!
fertilityfriend: u were 3 days early
augustdreamt: but we didn't have sex until saturday!
augustdreamt: seriously wtf?!
fertilityfriend: sucks to be u LOL
augustdreamt: :-(
fertilityfriend: hahahaha

TTC: Cycle 3

Verdict: Failure.
Future Prospects: Slightly less optimistic.

I woke up with my period today a full two days early. I didn't notice until I went to the bathroom to pee on a stick, and it caught me entirely by surprise. I guess the silver lining is that I didn't waste another pregnancy test.

I feel like I don't have the right to start feeling nervous about this, but I am. Three failed cycles is not a big deal. It's not abnormal. And many women have certainly had more trouble. But while there are plenty of stats out there regarding how long it takes couples to conceive when they start "trying" (as in, just randomly having unprotected sex at any time of the month), I've never been able to find information on how long it takes couples to conceive when they use fertility awareness methods and regularly have sex within the woman's known fertile window.

It doesn't help that I come from a family of ridiculously fertile women, and thus I've pretty much always expected conception to be easy. When I got pregnant the first time, it was unplanned and happened only about 6 weeks after Marcus and I started gettting lazy with the condoms. It happened so quickly and it confirmed my belief (and my mother's belief) that motherhood would come easily to me.

My nervousness is not so much about the fact that I'm in a rush to conceive. Rather, there is a small part of me that has worried throughout my life that there is something that I don't know about my body, something that will get in my way when I try to conceive, something that may keep me from ever being a mom. My nervousness stems from the paranoia that it's just not ever going to happen, and that I'm being naive by having any sort of hope at all.

As dramatic as this entry may seem, I'm actually not upset at all. At this point I'm just unsettled. And, naturally, disappointed.

For history's sake, I'm going to start posting my charts after every failed cycle.

My Resolve Is Waning

I think that I'm going to give in. I'm 10-11 days past ovulation and although my chart doesn't look very good, I'm starting to feel pretty anxious to whip out a pregnancy test. My post-ovulation temps look rather similar to my first failed month, so I've no reason to think that this cycle will be any more successful, but I can't help wanting to know for sure. The blue line in the chart below (click the image to see the larger version) shows my temps for my very first cycle, while the green line represents my current cycle. Like that first cycle, my post-ov temps (the ones after the red vertical line) have started a rocky downward trend only a few days after I ovulated.


For those of you who are unfamiliar with the significance of post-ov temps, higher temperatures are indicative of a steady presence of progesterone in a woman's body. After ovulation, the follicle that released an egg (now called the corpus lutuem) starts to produce progesterone, which raises a woman's basal body temperature. If the egg is not fertilized or fails to implant, the corpus luteum dies and the progesterone supply runs out, temps drop, and menstruation begins soon after. But if a fertilized egg does successfully implant, then the corpus luteum gets to live a while longer and continue progesterone production, so temps stay high.

The fact that my temps are not as high as I'd like doesn't mean that all hope is lost. It's not over till the blood starts flowing. But I'm not feeling very enthusiastic about this month either.