I got a positive OPK this morning. On CD 11. In shock, I checked my cervix and it was soft and open and producing some nice mucus. Fertility Friend says I am to ovulate sometime between CD 11 and CD 13. This is bananas. With and without Clomid my typical ovulation day is right at CD 19. This is so fun! It is so fast! It is like a whirlwind! I love Femara! Continue reading
WARNING: This post contains graphic language describing my lady bits ie cervix, mucus, discharge, os, etc.
My cervix doesn’t know what the hell is going on. Up, down, soft, hard, open, closed. It is all over the place. If it could speak it would say, “WTF, K? What the hell is going on?” I would reply, “I just dunno, cervix. I just dunno.”
My cervix has been high and soft for days, but my OPKs have been negative and my mucus has been sticky and tacky. Definitely not nearing ovulation. Today, my cervix dropped to a really low position, but, inexplicably, it still remains soft and open. Also, my mucus is both sticky and tacky yet contains some stretchy egg white mucus. My cervix is either lost or conflicted.
I’m currently on CD 19. After miscarriage #1 I ovulated on CD 23, which was a pleasant surprise. I hope the same thing happens on this go-round. I’m a bit trepidatious because my cervix seems to be keeping secrets. I’m hoping that my hormones are just balancing out and will find a happy equilibrium sooner rather than later.
For the charters amongst us all, here is the comparison of my two post-miscarriage charts.
Things are lookin’ good down there, down under.
I was scheduled to return to the RE tomorrow morning. She wanted to catch me right before ovulation to make sure the Clomid didn’t decimate my lining. However, my temps, cervix, fluids, and ovaries insisted I change the appointment to this morning. During the ultrasound we found two follicles on the right at 21 mm each. Two!
My lining wasn’t so bad, at 7.5 mm. If I haven’t ovulated by tomorrow morning, I’m going to trigger and the fun begins.
Meanwhile, Big Guy departed for the desert early this morning for work. Given the timing, his early departure ensured that I also had a early wake-up call. I followed him out to Palm Springs after the appointment with the RE. I think he feels a bit like a stud horse, but, hey, we gotta do what we gotta do!
Hope is such a seductive and intoxicating thing. Prior to Lucky Cycle #10, I had lost all hope. I was convinced I was in it for the long haul. The Cyster forever relegated to the barren and infertile side of the chasm. Which, I might add, is a bit dramatic given that twelve months of ttc as a women with PCOS isn’t that bad. See Lucky.
This week I’ve been experiencing some strange patterns in my BBT chart. After almost 18 months of charting, I’ve begun to think I’m really good at it. My temps dropped just three days ago, after my fair share of hot flashes and night sweats. This is a standard BBT presentation post-D&C. Fantastic, I thought, I’m on my way. I did a cleanse, my hormones are regulating, I’m going to ovulate in a short period of time – say 4 weeks from now. This morning? My temperature spiked. This was coupled with two days worth of EWCM. WTF is with the EWCM?!
Big Guy and I happened to have sex at the right time. Good sex – not the “I think I’m ovulating and I think we should get this done, even though you just worked a fourteen hour day” type of sex. Sex that is a reminder that we are in love with each, appreciate each other, and want to be intimate with each other. The type of sex that had begun to fade to a distant memory with the perfunctory, mandated, timed intercourse.
This EWCM combined with the positive and loving sex makes me hopeful. No matter how hard I try to tramp it down, ignore it, shift it to the edge of my consciousness, the hope exists. In fact, it isn’t just seductive and intoxicating, hope is dangerous. If you are devoid of hope the pain, the disappointment, the drudgery, none of it is a surprise. As a result, it ceases to be as painful. The peaks aren’t that high and the lows aren’t that low, because the expectations just don’t exist.
But, today, I’m hopeful, and that scares the shit out of me. Hope and I are strange bedfellows. It is not my natural inclination, and, given my past experience with inevitable ttc let-downs, I am not welcoming the hope with open arms. I am wary and cautious, guarding my heart carefully.
I’m sure that the temperature spike was an anomaly. I’m sure that I did not ovulate. I’m sure that, even if I did, I will not get pregnant.
But, what if?
Go away, Hope.