Category Archives: ovulation
I haven’t taken the opportunity to talk about my body much at all since I gave birth, but circumstances have presented themselves that encourage me to do so.
In short, I’ve got my first postpartum period.
That’s right, readers. I am eight weeks postpartum, and I’ve got my period. For the record, my postpartum bleeding ended completely only two and a half weeks ago. How did I get to be so lucky?
I meant to write about this last week. I had a feeling this was coming. I had EWCM galore and even some ovulation pain. Still, I thought naively, I’m breastfeeding. I won’t have a period for at least a couple of months. Ha. Ha. Ha bloody ha. On Saturday while at my parents’ I had my first hottub since I got pregnant, and on that same day, some spotting, and it was all downhill from there. Amusingly enough, I assumed it might just be a little more postpartum bleeding. Ha.
I guess this means I’m fertile again. My wife jokingly asked today, “Do you want to start TTCing again?” Not today, dear. Not today.
Well, the OPK was the tiniest shade away from being positive last night (and may have been positive in the right light). It was as positive as could be this morning. My guess is the surge started in the middle of the night. We’ll sperm up tonight. I’m oddly nonchalant about it. What’s with that?
In case you were wondering, the coughing has subsided significantly. I am relieved. My abdominal and chest and back muscles are relieved. But most of all, J is relieved that I won’t be keeping her awake all night again.
I need a nap before teaching. The next time I write, I’ll be in the midst of the TWW again. Our tenth TWW. Please let ten be lucky.
As I suspected, my LH surge arrived today complete with a party hat, noisemakers, and ample EWCM. Before the surge was confirmed, I received an email from our midwife stating that she normally works at a women’s clinic in another city tomorrow. Crap. Before we called her to discuss timing, J and I were already trying to figure out where we were going to get the supplies to do this at home on our own tomorrow.
We called C (the midwife), and she was scrambling to find a catheter. Her order hasn’t come in yet, and she is determined to do this for us. Tomorrow, given that she can find a catheter (and I’m convinced she will), she will come to our place before she goes to the other city. We’re talking early–maybe 6:30 or 7:00 early. If an IUI in one’s own bed first thing in the morning on ovulation day isn’t the perfect way for a TTCer to start the day, I don’t know what is (okay, there is something better than that, but we’ve got a couple of weeks to go before that comes).
Ah, yes. Almost there.
I’m overflowing with fertile signs right now, which means one thing: this is my last spent egg before we get started again. We’ve got all the paperwork in (again), and with any luck, it will go through without a hitch (ha!). Believe it or not, I’m finally starting to get excited about this.
Next week we have our midwife appointment, and that too is thrilling to me. I can’t wait to see what she’s like in person and to feel another surge of positivity. (Who is this person occupying my head?)
I haven’t been temping. I can’t foce myself to wake up and stick a thermometer in my mouth at 5am (which is what I would have to do for any accuracy due to my early morning teaching schedule). I did it for a year, and I’m tired of it. I’ll do it again next month, I suppose, but I’m feeling whiny about it. Do I have to temp? J keeps scolding me, but I’m thinking I want to toss my thermometer out the window and never look back. I’m feeling like taking chances, like I don’t want to be bound to gazing at charts; they only lead to unhealthy obsessive behavior in me. Will someone give me permission not to temp? Please?
Tonight my mom comes for a brief visit, and Saturday we go to see some very dear friends of ours from Humboldt in their new place in a new town. We get to see where their wedding will be–where I will officiate my very first wedding–but more than anything, we get some time with people who have known us for ages, people with whom we can discuss annoying students, unresponsive and apathetic classes, as well as baby plans, homesickness, and all the rest.
Meanwhile, J is in a paper-grading marathon, and I’ve got to clean. First, though, I’m going for a walk. It’s a beautiful fall day, and I need to be out in it.
Today, I have had the worst ovulation pains–or mittelschmertz, rather. It’s like my body is taunting me. I hate wasting my eggs. I hate it. I’ve done this before; in fact, last summer I was in this same position, and it pissed me off then too.
It’s hot here. J and I went for a swim this afternoon and ran into our neighbors, whom I have mentioned here before. The woman informed us that she and her husband had discussed helping us out. J didn’t quite understand what she had said. She thought the husband was thinking about being a sperm donor in general, but it was fairly clear that they wanted to help us. Their hangup is that he was adopted, so they know nothing about his family medical history, and she said they couldn’t do it as a result. In retrospect, it was a little weird. Nevertheless, I thought it was sweet that they thought of us.
We’re leaning much more heavily now toward spermsicles. We want the leisure of having sperm on hand for up to a week should my body decide to be unpredictable. If something else happens (like the abovementioned story), we might reconsider, but at the moment, this feels good. The one thing holding us up is our lack of a spermsicle fund, which we probably won’t have until October.
More waiting for now. Today, there is nothing I can do about wasting yet another egg.
I got a positive OPK today. I’m certain I’ll ovulate tomorrow, and there will be no sperm. He did finally check his email, and he offered to send us a shipment on Monday (for Tuesday). This would have been nice had my body cooperated. But that is not what happened, now is it?
This was to have been our last try with Mr. G before The Long Break. Little did we know we were already in The Long Break when this last cycle ended. In fact, we are currently in The Long Break. Fuck.
So what now? Well, we can’t afford frozen sperm right now, and we don’t want to deal with shipping of fresh sperm. On top of that, we have no male friends–no friends in our new hometown at all–so we’re stuck for awhile until we have more income and can afford frozen sperm. Again, fuck.
Bring on the scotch.
Crap. I just took an OPK, and it’s getting darker. I know I’m going to ovulate before Tuesday, and now I have to hope that Mr. G checks his email and can get something out to me for tomorrow. So I’m putting in a request to all my readers to focus their super powers on getting Mr. G to check his messages so that he can get this out today.
Focus super powers…NOW!
This wasn’t something I really wanted to deal with today. I’m a little hung over after J and I had an evening of drinking wine, watching So You Think You Can Dance, and listening to music that reminded us of our old hometown. We had fun, but damn, my head hurts.
But back to that focusing. Come on Mr. G. Go to your computer. Check your email. Send us some sperm!
I’m on CD 11 today, and no EWCM. The OPKs are blank as blank can be. I’m hoping with all of my might that my body will wait until Tuesday to release any egg(s) it may have ready. I don’t think I could handle it if my body decided once again to sabotage our chances of a successful insemination. I’m not going to entertain that thought anymore though. I’m just going to hope for the best.
My mom came to visit for the day yesterday. J and I tried very awkwardly to discuss our lack of progress on the baby-making front. She’s so wrapped up in my sister’s pregnancy, though, that she had almost nothing to say about what is happening with us. Part of me thinks she’s just very awkward about it because it’s unusual and personal (she had a hard time even talking to me about my period when I was a kid), but there’s this other part of me that thinks it doens’t matter nearly as much to her now that she’ll have her first grandchild in just a few short weeks. My sister is filling that void for her, and my mom is welcoming her into the Mom Club with open arms, even though she’s had to buy my sister’s food for the last nine months and pay for her utilities while my sister buys her boyfriend beer and cigarettes.
But I’m sounding bitter, aren’t I?
J and I had a good long cry about it all last night. We are both just aching lately, needing somehow to be successful with this and fearing that our success won’t come to us anytime soon. I want to scream and shake my fists at the sky right now. I want to know why two good, loving people who want this so badly–hell why so many good, loving people who want this so badly–have to suffer without our children when it comes so easily to those who shouldn’t or don’t want to be parents, those whose children are called “accidents.”
I would give anything today to be covered in my baby’s spit-up stains. To have black circles under my eyes from lack of sleep because the baby was up all night. To be tripping over toys or washing dirty diapers or pumping milk. To gain entrance into that ever exclusive Mom Club, the one that seems so out of reach to so many of us. But we have to wait and wait and wait until fate or the universe or the goddess or science decides it’s our turn. Please let it be our turn soon. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.
I tested again this morning, and it was so very negative. There may as well have been a neon-flashing, “Not this time, sucker!” I don’t think it could have been more negative. I stared at the test for the longest time just waiting and waiting. But nothing. I still don’t have my period, but I think I know why: I believe I ovulated a couple of days later than FF is suggesting, which means I’m most likely 12dpo and should be starting to spot today. This would account for why I wasn’t getting positive OPKs and would also mean that our inseminations were way too early. My still low temperature, erratic emotions, vice-grip headache, and crampiness today would indicate that my theory is correct. I expect Auntie F to be knocking on my door with her overstuffed suitcases any moment.
Naturally, I’ve not been doing my best today, and I pity my poor wife. I made some poached eggs this morning and upon asking her how they were, she replied innocently and honestly that they were fresh and good, but maybe a little dry (and they were). I lost it and started crying, but clearly not because the eggs were dry. Hell, I know J likes my cooking, that this was unusual, that I hadn’t been paying attention to how long I was cooking them, and that, frankly, she wasn’t saying anything negative about me, but rather stating a simple fact–about eggs, no less. And still, I cried. This was not one of my finer moments, but my reaction was clearly not about eggs, and she called me on it. So, like the wonderful wife that she is, she called me over next to her, and wrapped her arms around me while I proceeded to curl into a ball and sob. She smoothed my hair, and we mourned the loss of hope once again, and she made me breathe.
However, my sobfest took place at an unfortunate time, for we had been watching something on one of the cable news stations while eating breakfast. When the program ended, I was still crying, and J was still comforting me, so neither of us knew what was going to come on next. Suddenly, we both saw and heard this young woman talking about having her baby and insisting that her baby live on the streets with her. She was a whore, living on the streets, and she had a brand new baby, and this just set me off even more. I felt very sorry for myself as I thought about this completely irresponsible girl who was saturated in this drug culture and was determined to expose her child to it. Why must the universe throw these things in my face nearly every time we face the end of an unsuccessful cycle? How is this fair? The answer, of course, is that it’s not fair, but damn, what unfortunate timing!
Since this morning’s breakdown, I have finally found a slightly more comfortable headspace. I won’t call it zen, but I’m not sobbing into J’s shoulder nor pounding my fists into pillows (that’s always pretty). Now, I’m eager for my period to begin so that we can just move on with this last cycle with Mr. G. It’s raining here, which makes for a perfect day to sit inside with my sweetheart watching movies and eating popcorn. I’m glad it’s raining, glad we’ll soon have another fresh start, and while my baser self wants to wallow in self-pity, I’m determined to pick back up and move forward.