Thursday, July 11, 2013

Mother's Day, pt. 3


Continuing in our infertility saga:

I knew I was regular so I figured there was nothing wrong with me and stuff just didn't go arbitrarily wrong with guys like it did girls and so I didn't talk with a doctor or anything. (Ah, naivete.   How I miss you sometimes.  Of course then, I'd be no closer to having a baby.  Not that I'm any closer now... Anyways...)

A few months after moving to CS, one of my best friends started planning her wedding.  We'll call her RR.  Right around the time we were going dress shopping, I started to think I might be pregnant.  (Keep in mind, I was pretty regular but I was still just going off of basically guess work and how I felt.)  I chose a dress that would work if it turned out I was pregnant and told her about it, but, once again, I was wrong.  

For some reason, though, that became a turning point for me.  Still going by purely guesswork, I started taking pregnancy tests every once in a while.  In my heart, I became a little obsessive.  Very soon after RR was married, she told me about a book, Taking Charge of Your Fertility.  RR has a thyroid condition and didn't want extra hormones messing her hormone balance up even more than normal and was going to try charting her cycle instead of taking medicine.  She knew hormonal birth control had screwed me up and knew I *kind of* wanted a baby so we talked about the book and she said she'd tell me when she turned it into the library so I could check it out.  

Before I even finished the book, I ordered it on Amazon.  Finally, less guesswork, I could actually know what was going on in my body, things made more sense.  (This book is awesome.  Charting is not for everyone, I totally get that.  If you can use hormonal birth control without going bat crap crazy, or if the hormonal birth control is what keeps you from going bat crap crazy, more power to you! But even if you never do the charting, etc. its a really awesome book to read just to know more about how your body works beyond the basic "sex ed.")  Copied some charts, bought a thermometer and started tracking.  Whenever people asked, I told them that we weren't trying, just not not trying.  I hid my obsession from just about everyone.  Even those who knew only knew bits and pieces. 

And I was starting to get a sneaking suspicion that something was wrong.  My charts looked good but nothing was happening.  And it had been over a year with nothing happening.  According to TCOYF, we were considered infertile.  But infertile is such a nasty word, and I wasn't ready to entertain that possibility.

That August, we made the monumental decision to move in with my parents so we could save money to buy a house.  We loved our apartment, but we wanted to own our own home and, while we were getting by just fine, we were never quite able to put aside money for a house.  (We had been doing Dave Ramsey for some time and our snowball was getting pretty small.  Or big. I don't know.  We were close to having stuff paid off.)  

The weekend of the move, my mom, conveniently, was out of state.  I was feeling funny, A few days late (umm...stress anyone?) but I hadn't had a temperature spike, so I decided to test anyways (because what if?!?!?).  And there was a faint second line.  R, of course, was at work.  And it was not a job I could call him at.  I took it to a friend and had her look.  She saw the line, too.  I showed it to a couple friends and family members.  I took a second, digital test.  It was negative.  Confused, I sent an email to a random-through-the-blogosphere-friend (who I lost touch with after moving in with my parents because NO INTERNET), who had dealt with infertility, about it. She said the blue dye tests (which the first one was) has a propensity to give false positives.  WHAT?! I had been told my whole life that if the stick had two lines, you were pregnant.  How could that be wrong?  Now I NEEDED TO KNOW.  My brain was busy running scenarios, debating the pros and cons of moving in with my parents pregnant. And I kind of thought, really? Now?  This messes up the plan.  But oh my word, a baby, I really want a baby.  

Cliff hanger, right?  Spoilers: If this had been true, I'd have a 2 year old now.  I don't.

Branalyn