Oh, I understood it well enough, my brain processed it, but the lump in my gut rose to my throat and I had to squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, fighting tears of disappointment. I had been looking for a revelation, a solution, a bit of magic. For hope. That I didn’t find it shouldn’t have come as a surprise. But that hope had been stronger than I thought. I had let myself hope more than I’d intended.
Kitty Steals The Show by Carrie Vaughn
I had an OB/GYN appointment a couple of days ago, and we decided to switch medications. This is my last (4th cycle) of Clomid, and if nothing happened this month, then we are switching to Femara. It has less side effects and less chance for multiples. The doctor also said that those with no success on Clomid have favorable results with Femara. I would believe her, except she said that those with no success on Metformin alone have favorable results using it with Clomid. And she said the same thing when I started the Metformin. Feels like false hope.
Someone said the other day that maybe I was pregnant because I had a cold. I just sighed. Tell anyone something different about your body and they try to say that you are pregnant. Thank you well meaning loved ones, but no thanks. Because your false hope puts in the seed of hope. Just like the doctor suggests a solution that could very well not be a solution.
However, no more tears of disappointment. I have been stressed about getting pregnant the past few months, but now I feel blasé about it. I mean, if we get pregnant, I will be very happy and excited for the future. But if not? We can try again when the husband comes home from deployment. Sure that’s a whole another year of waiting, and I’ll be ancient (which in reality is just 30) by then. But that’s okay. That will give me more time to lose weight, more time to focus on what I want to do with my career, and more time to pay off debt. Either way it’s a win win situation for us. That is the attitude I am trying to have now.