I’ve got a confession. I think I write here less than I’d like, need actually, because I’m somehow tied by the idea that this is supposed to be a sex blog. The fact is that this situation, our infertility, has pushed a lot of the good things about our sexuality to the background. I’d like to be spontaneous and full of enjoyment, but I’m not. Neither is Wonderboy. A couple of days ago we tried to have sex, but it didn’t work out, because neither of us actually wanted it. We just figured we should, because my ovulation was due any day. I got mad, because that’s what I’m like with these hormones, it’s like the worst possible PMS you can imagine – and it’s all day every day. And I got him crying.
Wonderboy doesn’t cry much. He cried unconsollably, for a long time in my embrace. I told him I still like him and want him. When I asked him what’s wrong he confessed that the pressure is getting to him. He has to succeed every time. He feels the pressure of making me pregnant, no matter what his body is telling him, he has to complete the task. I had to take a step back and tell him that it’s only one month. There will be other months, other follicles, better times. At the time I really felt like that. That there is time. That this is not worth it, if we crumble. If we stop caring for each other and ourselves.
I was actually really proud of myself, because I’d asked, if we could stop having sex. It hurt and I didn’t feel turned on or happy. And I thought Is this what we’ve come to? Is this what I have to do to get pregnant – to endure fucking? I decided against it. I decided that my body, my sexuality is worth more to me than the possibility of pregnancy. Why would I willingly rape myself like that? The blackness of it would come back, if I didn’t get pregnant. It would come between us, because no matter what I decided he did it to me.
I hope no one’s gonna jump the gun and blame me for feeling this way. I already blame myself for feeling this way, more than anyone else could. I’m trying to cope with it. I’m trying to find ways to relieve the tension, to build communication and happiness where the void is.
Wednesday I had pains so crave I had to take two painkillers. It raised hope in me. Just after the ovulation (on day 16/30)! Maybe I’m pregnant. I felt the ovulation distinctly on 13th day of the cycle, Sunday, as pains in the left ovary. The good one. My right ovary is really close to the womb and causes me pain, so I’m not counting on the right one. But the left one! If only!
Then I went and read what other people had been going through in their treatments and I found out that my follicle, 16mm on day 12/30, had been on the small side even after taking the hormones. Other women’s follicles were 19 to 21mm big on the same day of the cycle. I feel crushed. I’ve been studying myself, my cycle, and I’ve come to no conclusion. If there are women or men out there reading this with much knowledge of fertility and cycles please don’t hesitate to tell me all you know.
I know the doctor wouldn’t say there’s a chance of getting pregnant, if there wasn’t one. Why would they? They wouldn’t put us through this hormone trying cycle, (four actually, this one’s the second) if there wasn’t any chance of conceiving. But I’d wager the chances are pretty slim.
My cycle has always been kind of wonky, but it’s mostly been 33-34 days long. That’s a lot longer than the expected 28 cycle. The health professionals always say that menstruation follows after 14 days of the ovulation. Like that’s a fact that our bodies will abide by no matter what. Well, it isn’t that way with me. After ovulating, which I feel as pains and has also now been proved by ultrasound a couple of times, there can be 7 to 20 days before I start to bleed. I’d bet that’s not good, if you’re trying to conceive, but what do I know. I hope these hormones will prove efficient in making my cycle if not the magic 28 days then even even.
I’ve also spent countless hours agonizing, if my period has started, will start or hasn’t started yet. Because I need to take the hormones on day 3 of the cycle, I have to be sure of the starting day! It’s not that simple, but I’ve decided I always wait until I’m bleeding my heart out. Because, you know, I kind of am.
I wasn’t really sad the last time period started, because I hadn’t really even hoped for anything. I’d known that I wasn’t pregnant. Call it intuition or just knowing your body, but I did. Now I have a slight hope, because there’s this weird feeling of pressure in my womb, but it could just as well be PMS or some unknown hormonal side-effect. I’ve also felt nauseated by certain foods, but as I’ve been told this kind of thing only usually starts two weeks into pregnancy or more, I think I might be psyching myself to feel these things. Or they are caused by a totally different reason. I do know, in my body I know, that I was pregnant for a brief while in the summer of 2010 and this summer. Even my friend suspected it when I was visiting her in the North. She is now happily pregnant and said that it was in no way different than the one similar miscarriage/biochemical pregnancy she had experienced in the summer when they started trying. So, I’m pretty confident I do know my body and that whatever the statistics, doctors or people with dissimilar experiences might say, I know what I know. It’s just different, not impossible or implausible.
And it really doesn’t help me or the infertility treatments, if I don’t say how I feel and how my body has acted. It’s pretty damn significant that the follicle has been fertilized twice even though it didn’t stick around. There’s still hope.
In other news, I have something else to tell you. This is the one that breaks my heart. Remember my big sister Hope, the one I had the huge fight with because she couldn’t accept what I was going through. Tears well in my eyes, when I even think about it and about the nice waitress who tried to mend things, after. If my sister was not empathic, the waitress sure as hell was.
Well. My sister has been trying to conceive for I think four months now. Guided by our misfortune and her own consciousness of her body she went to the doctor to find out if everything was okay. It wasn’t. She’s not ovulating. This might be the sole reason they haven’t gotten pregnant and it can be remedied quite quickly by hormones, which she got, so it isn’t the end of the world. But it’s a huge blow to your self-image to find out you are not healthy. You are not perfect. Your body is broken somehow. I understand this. I could totally listen to her and empathize with her.
And it hit me. I really don’t want her to have to suffer through this same shit. I was afraid they’d get pregnant right away, it would’ve hurt me so much. But I do want them to get pregnant. I want them to be happy. And what’s more – I want her to be able to be happy about my pregnancy, if it happens one of these days. I want her to be able to take part in our children’s life.
It is not fair that we have to be broken like this. But it happened.
One piece of good news, that me therapist has neglected of informing me, while telling me about the divorces of couples in infertility treatments etc, is that according to research when infertile couples do get pregnant, they are more happy than other average couples the first years of the child’s life and also during pregnancy. Many women tell me, over and over and over, I guess in an attempt to make me appreciate what I haven’t got, how hard it is to have small children who fall sick all the time and take all your personal time etc. They always say just wait and see. Maybe I will never see what they see. Maybe I will see, just like my mother did, how precious life is and how fragile. Maybe I can set aside time for my children, time that makes me equally happy as them, just like my time with Wonderboy. Maybe we are all not the same.