Greetings Lovelies! I hope you all are well!
For the last two months I anticipated a plus sign after waiting the required numbers of weeks in between medically induced menstrual cycles. Alas, no pink plus. Just a line. I made myself sexually available for that? A line! Give me a break. Just kidding.
I thought the disappointment would seize me—grip me from the bowels and leave me emotionally wrecked. Ahhh….me with the dramatics, right? Yet, I feel content, at ease, and comfortable. One more month with the Clomid. One more shot at a relatively cheap chance to create life. I think the devastation lies more in knowing if I don’t conceive this last time our run stops. We decided since the rest of our treatment options are not covered by insurance we will not be able to move forward with assistance. The next step is a surgical procedure designed to see if my tubes are indeed open. A procedure we cannot afford now or in the near future. The literature I’ve read online states many doctors allow their patients to continue Clomid treatment for up to nine months--- I will be sure to ask my doctor if I am a candidate for that long term effort. But I guess if my tubes are closed why take pills for six more months? What I’m getting at here is that I am not at ease nor comfortable with running out of options. The lack of options tries my patience, my heart..
Therefore ladies, I commence month three. I have a raging period (thus after I should have stellar uterine lining perfect for housing a baby), a loving husband, and a new bra. Perhaps the combination will serve me well.
Peace,
Jessica
PS: My sister called me to tell me that she learned in birth class that amniotic fluid and breast milk taste the same. I replied, “Eww.”
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