Over the last 6 or so weeks, I have started charting again. For those who aren’t familiar with charting, it is where you take your temperature every morning, the moment you wake up, before getting out of bed, and record it. Over time you learn your body’s pattern. Your temps are generally lower in the follicular phase (the days leading up to ovulation), and then they spike up during the luteal phase (after ovulation). If you ovulated, you will see a clearly defined shift on the chart.
I personally use Fertility Friend to document everything, because it’s familiar, it’s easy, and I like that it will give me crosshairs on the chart to denote ovulation. While it can sometimes be unreliable, most of the time it’s right. Your temps don’t lie, as long as you are taking them consistently at the same time each day. Inconsistently is a different story.
Last week, I had something happen for the first time ever. And I mean, ever. Well, first of all, I FLIPPING OVULATED ON MY OWN. So, yay for that! But the big surprise? My chart started to look like a potential pregnancy chart. It appeared I was about to have a tri-phastic pattern, which means my chart was close to showing a very clearly defined three-tier range of temperatures. Usually if a woman is pregnant, there will be a third shift in temperatures due to the hCG and increased progesterone levels from the pregnancy. When my Conceivable rep noticed this, she mentioned to me that pregnancy was a possibility.
I didn’t want to get my hopes up, because I didn’t want to feel anything, albeit excitement or pain. I knew putting my hope into this was a leap for me, so I kept my guard up and told myself that no matter what happens, the fact that I was able to ovulate without Follistim mattered, pregnancy or not.
I wanted to hope. I really did. But I knew… I knew that if I allowed myself to put too much hope into this cycle that I would shatter at the end. Too many times have I put all my hope into that one cycle… too many times have I believed that it was going to happen right then because it had to. I wanted to protect myself. That moment of shattered hope is an indescribable pain. The weeping that follows in failure is something I do not want to experience again. Not right now. I’m not ready.
So I didn’t.
I kept my guard up.
I did not put all my hope in this cycle.
I did not hope for a natural pregnancy.
And you know what? I’m really glad that I kept it real. I’m glad that I didn’t have a repeat of that moment of failure, because I wasn’t pregnant. My body played a cruel trick on me. The potential tri-phastic pattern was a joke. “Just kidding!”
And you know what else?
Sure, I wish I had a surprise announcement today. I wish I had excitement and joy over the weekend, watching two pink lines appear on a home test. Sure, I had a brief sigh and a moment of “oh well, I knew it” when my temps plummeted the day after such a high temperature. Sure, I just laid there in my bed in a state of confusion for a moment, wondering why I had such a drastic temp increase that meant nothing. I may have muttered a “screw you, PCOS” under my breath.
But I woke up, I prayed, I got out of bed, and I started my day without a single tear. Without a cry out to God asking “why is my body broken?” Without wondering why I couldn’t have that miracle. In fact, when I prayed, it had absolutely nothing to do with me, my infertility, my temperature, my PCOS, etc. I prayed for other people instead.
A couple of months ago, my hope would have been shattered. I would have sat in the floor of the bathroom and silently wept so to not wake anyone. Oh, if those blue walls could talk. My bathroom has seen so much joy and so much weeping.
Instead of weeping, I celebrated. I HAD A PERFECT CYCLE. I have PCOS, and I had a perfect cycle. Between Shakeology, working out consistently, and taking Conceivable, I had a perfect cycle.
This is huge!
So, yeah, I’m not pregnant. But maybe, just maybe, there is room for hope for a non-medicated, surprise, natural pregnancy. I’ll allow myself to have that.
Will you hope with me?