Waiting for the Flood

It has now been 48 days since my last period.

Longer than Noah was out at sea.

Longer than Jesus was in the desert.

Longer than "The Playboy Club" was on the air.

I'm not pregnant. I've taken several tests and each one has glared at me with a single line.

I would like to say this is unusual, but it really isn't. I have had cycles that have been longer, though not by much. I was getting hopeful though that things were getting more normal. The six to eight cycles before this one were average, or even on the short side. I felt I was finally getting a handle on exactly what was going on, and when. And with the new progesterone development? I was actually starting to get my hopes up!

Now this.

If this doesn't prove that my body is just messing with me, I don't know what does.

If only I could trade it in for another model. You know, one with a working reproductive system.

Oh, and maybe longer legs.

Better never than late

I had this whole thing written about how my period was really late this month and I took a pregnancy test and for a second I thought it was telling me I was pregnant and then I realized it was negative and then I woke up in a puddle of blood the next morning, but let's just skip over the woe-is-me bull shit, shall we?
 
Because while I am pissed off and I do feel sorry for myself, I don't need or want you feeling sorry for me, because oh my god. That makes it even worse. 

And also, fuzzy baby heads make me want to drive off a cliff. But that's neither here nor there.

The new news, other than NOT being pregnant (again, shockingly) is that in a couple of days I get to have my very first fertility tests and holy shit am I ready to find out what the hell is going on. It's only a blood test, so I'm trying not to expect too much, but still. It's Step 1. If nothing shows up in Step 1, I might go on a bender, but then I'll proceed semi-calmly to Step 2, whatever in holy hell that is.

Sidenote: I did not mean for this post to be as angry (if not angrier) as last week's. This was going to be the hopeful post. So: sorry. 

Anyway, if my doctor doesn't suck, I should have results by this time next week. I might have a clue by this time next week. Which would be so radical and new for us.

On the other hand, we may have nothing. Which would be the same as it ever was.

Meanwhile, I've been realizing that I've all but abandoned the principles laid out in "Making Babies." The only things I'm still doing are taking supplements and tracking ovulation.

The book calls itself "a proven three month program for maximum fertility," but at no time since I bought this book in February have I adhered strictly to the program, or even eighty percent to the program, as the book advises. How can I possibly expect maximum fertility, in that case?

So I'm going to start over, at the beginning. Initially I tore through the book so quickly, searching for answers, there was no way I fully absorbed all of the information in it. 

"One in eight couples in the United States has trouble getting or staying pregnant ... Right now more than nine million American women seek treatment for fertility issues every year, and their partners need treatment, too."

This book was like salve on a burn when I first cracked it open and read those words. I think it's time to read them again.

Same Old, Same Old

In the past eight weeks I have had three and a half periods.

For those of you without access to a uterus, that is a lot.

In March I had periods exactly two weeks apart. Then, I had 24 blissful days of non-period, and then what can only be described as a "whopper." I would say more, but you really don't want me to. Last week I had spotting EVERY. SINGLE. DAY. It was nothing to write home about (if anyone actually writes those kids of letters), but just there.

I figured that my body was maybe resetting itself. After all, I've changed my diet, thought about exercising more, am taking more pills than Charlie Sheen, and paying a woman to stick needles into my face. Wouldn't all that be enough to make my cycle go a little screwy? I figured it would soon right itself and help me on my way to reproductive bliss.

How wrong I was.

Today I went to see my gynecologist, just to check in since I am making all these changes, and to talk about the weird periods. She decided to do a quick pelvic (again, not saying more), and discovered that my lady bits weren't making changes, but instead were making an ovarian cyst.

Yep, an ovarian cyst, just like all the previous ovarian cysts that led me to buying this book and making all these changes in the first place.

So, what do I do now?

I don't know.

I just don't know.

Part of me says try harder. Part of me says this is over.

Most of me wishes this was just wasn't so complicated.

Oh, and that I would stop having so many damn periods.