Thanks for bearing with my venting the other day. I know this is only our FIRST try with meds and what not, and that logically it can’t possibly be that frustrating seeing as how we haven’t been doing this cycle after cycle, month after month for years now. It’s true. It is only our first cycle. But, in my defense, it’s my first cycle of any kind after 148 days of no period. 148 days of waiting to get put on meds to see if we can correct whatever is wrong with me because clearly, SOMETHING is wrong down there. So, yea, I was/am kind of putting a lot on this first cycle because dammit, I just want my body to work like it’s supposed to (please excuse the language). I don’t even need to get pregs this cycle anymore, I just want to ovulate like a good female should.
BUT, like the post is titled, I’m over it (for the most part). I’ve stopped using the OPKs because I’ve had zero success with them, and I can’t be bothered with all it takes to get a successful read, what with all the trouble involved in waiting the right amount of time, minimizing fluids, catching the right part of the urine stream, waiting for the stars and moon and sun to align just right… Whatever, I’ll just take my chances, have sex (for you, Brittany!) every other day, and keep temping in the mornings. If it happens, fan-freaking-tastic. If not, well, let’s just say I’m already planning my next doctor’s appointment. I’ve invested a lot of time, money, and worry into this cycle, and quite frankly, I’m tired. I just think it’s better if I tell myself the worst is going to happen, and ease the potential disappointment in the end.
It’s like when I joined the Lisa Frank fan club when I was 10 years old (yea. I’m totally admitting this publicly). I waited and waited and waited for my membership packet full of new stickers and pencils to arrive. I checked the mail religiously, daily, and day after day I was disappointed deeply because nothing ever came. So I started to tell myself every day before I checked the mail: “Lauren, it’s not going to be here. It’s never here. Seriously. It’s not going to be here.” Every day I proved myself right, but one day, ONE DAY, I opened the mailbox, and there it was. Finally. And I was ecstatic.**
Therefore, since it worked so well for me before, I’m going to tell myself every day before reading my temp, “Lauren, it’s not going to spike. It never spikes,” and maybe one day, ONE DAY, I will be wrong.
**Note: A far better, more grown-up, and relatable story would be when I was waiting on C to propose to me. I hoped and hoped and hoped every. single. weekend. we saw each other (we were long distance at the time) that THAT WEEKEND would be the weekend he would propose. Every weekend I was terribly, tragically disappointed when he did not propose (please also note that I wasn’t just a crazy person, we had discussed our future together and both knew this was where the relationship was heading, it was just a matter of timing and him asking). So eventually, come October 2008, I had a conversation in my head on the plane ride out to DC. I told myself, “Lauren, he is NOT going to propose to you this weekend. It’s just not going to happen. It never does. He is in the middle of second year of med school, and he has a million and one OTHER things to worry about than proposing to you. It’s not going to happen. Give it up already. It’s not going to happen.” The whole plane ride. I didn’t even sleep during the 3 hour flight because I was so busy psyching myself DOWN. I definitely came to terms with it after he and I briefly talked about engagement stuff at lunch on Saturday and he was all kinds of blasé about it . He wasn’t going to do it that weekend. And then? You know what? HE DID. Two hours later. I didn’t even see it coming. I was ecstatic. Obviously.
So listen, ovaries, I know you’re not going to give up that egg. I know you won’t. But one day, ONE DAY, you will surprise me, and I will be ecstatic. Until then, my ovs, I’ve got to chill out and stop keeping such close tabs on you. I’ll see you when I see you.