It seems like this infertility journey is primarily one of waiting. We wait to ovulate. We wait to test. We wait to stimulate. We wait to suppress. We wait for phone calls. We wait for lab orders. We wait for lab results. And we wait for a baby. I’ve been waiting 502 days, 75.5 weeks. 17 months, and 12 cycles to have a baby. Put like that, it isn’t so bad, but it feels interminable. Today, I’m just waiting for the bleeding to begin.
My hCG level on Monday was 120, down from 410 on Friday. In case there was any doubt, this pregnancy is not viable. My doctor calls herself an interventionist, but in this situation she recommends I wait for the bleeding to start on its own, given that my body has already started the process.
The problem with that? No blood, no spotting, and a cervix shut tight. There is absolutely no movement towards a natural miscarriage. Any signs of forward momentum ceased well over 24 hours ago, with the worst of it on Sunday. By “the worst of it” I am referring to a scant show of blood on a pantyliner. It has been 36 hours since my last injection of progesterone. Surely things have to begin soon, right?
To that end, I’ve done some googling. Burdock root, dandelion root, parsley, ginger, sage, and rosemary can all help to hasten along the process when steeped as a tea. However, that sounds awful. My bet is that it would not taste as bad as my cleanse smoothie, but would be about as bad as the many iterations of Chinese herbs I’ve consumed. It is hot here in the desert. Perhaps I should ice it and chug it after my workout.
Additionally, angelica, chamomile, cinnamon, clary sage, basil, ginger, jasmine, juniper, myrrh, peppermint, rose, rosemary, fennel and marjoram essential oils are also known emmenagogues. That doesn’t sound as bad. I may even smell nice.
Alternatively, I could wait until I have an appointment with my new RE tomorrow. I’m hoping he will confirm the diagnosis and prescribe some misoprostol so I can stop waiting and move forward. I hate, loathe, detest, abhor, despise waiting.