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I ran out of optimism last weekend.

I generally am not a “cup is half-full” kind of girl, but I honestly believed that it would be easier this time.

I have hesitated to blog about this, because I’ve been worried that once I opened the flood-gates, that this is all I will ever blog about.  But, once again, it is quickly becoming all that I think about, so I might as well go ahead and blog.

We have been trying to get pregnant again since late summer.  At first, we were only casually trying.  After going through the process to conceive Bear (which admittedly when compared to that of several of my friends was not that arduous), we had hoped that it would just “happen.”  I remembered all too well fearful nights praying that I would just ovulate.  I remembered all too well going through pack after pack of ovulation predictor kits and never seeing anything resembling a positive.  I remembered all too well crying in the middle of the night certain that I would never have a child.  Honestly, I was not eager to go back that place.  If pregnancy would just “happen” then I could avoid it altogether.

The idea seemed plausible enough.  Before Bear, I did not ovulate at all.  We went through all of the standard testing for doctors to tell me what I already knew.  I wasn’t having periods.  I wasn’t ovulating, and I wouldn’t get pregnant if I didn’t ovulate.  First they told me it was caused by a prolactinoma on my pituitary gland.  We treated that, but I still didn’t ovulate.  They all agreed that I had hormone issues, but no one could find the solution to fix them.  Finally, by default it seemed to me, they told me that it was PCOS.  Fortunately, before we had to go too far into the doctor’s bag of magic tricks, I ovulated.

Maybe it was more of a miracle, though, because that first and only time that I had ovulated in two years, we got pregnant with Bear.

I spotted and bled mysteriously through my entire pregnancy with Bear, but she was born healthy.  I struggled to produce milk to breastfeed her, but finally I managed to maintain a small supply and combo-feed.  After Bear was a year old and I had mostly weaned her, I began having long cycles.  I rejoiced!  They were cycles with a beginning and end!  Over the next six months, they became a little shorter and a little more predictable.  And so, we came to the conclusion that it could just “happen” for us.  My doctor even left me with the advice, “Come back and see me when you are pregnant.”

Instead, I’ll be visiting her again on March 7th.  And I’m not pregnant.  Even though I seem to be having semi-regular cycles, and I know that I am ovulating, I have started spotting for about a week before my period inevitably starts.  Every time I see that first spot, I think, “Implantation!”  A week later, after many foolish negative pregnancy tests, I am proven wrong.  And, I am devastated.

I am hoping that whatever my problem is has an easy fix.  A luteal phase defect, perhaps?  But, I know that it is not going to just “happen” for us like I had hoped.  Until I see that positive test, I am afraid that I’ll be seeing that cup as half-empty once again.


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