So this morning I got my period. I had the slightest bit of pink spotting last night when I wiped which actually had me feeling positive because I never spot and certainly not with white CM. However, the positivity was in vain. Had a terrible backache all night and morning pee revealed AF in all her scarlet glory.
And so we went over our monthly routine. The flood gates were lowered, the tear ducts called into action and a veritable arsenal of Kleenex stood on hand. My back hurts, my stomach hurts but most of all my bloody heart hurts. I scream silently to whoever should be listening. I rant in helpless frustration. I pour my grief out in shuddering sobs. It soaks my pillow, it takes home in my shirt sleeve and it crawls all over my face. Yet I am never quite done. Like an unsatiated demon, I find no tears worthy enough to express the rawness of my disappointment.
So, early today morning at 14 dpo, I got the dreaded AF back in full flow. While I had promised myself that I would not go stark, raving obssessive over each and every symptom during my TWW, I must admit there were occasional lapses where my itchy fingers sought out http://www.twoweekwait.com/bfp-after-miscarriage and of course there were the random symptom searches (7 dpo–itchy eyes?, 10 dpo–crazy dreams?… btw what the %$#@ are ‘vivid’ dreams since everyone and her first cousin seems to be having them only to result in much coveted BFPs… what is it that they’re dreaming about that I can’t get my stupid brain cells to conjure up??!!).
Anyhow, so well… August was not to be. The ceremonial shedding of tears happened right on cue after a peeing trip at 7am revealed the enemy to be back! Poor spouse did much back-rubbing, whispering soothing assurances and trying his best to get me out of the post BFN funk I find myself in at the end of every month but the tears wouldn’t stop. The pity fest lasted for a mere 2 hours though, followed by a back-to-back appearance of Lady Rage. Much ranting and shaking of mutinous fists later, there was a lull. It was almost 11.15 am and I had refused to emerge from the shadowy confines of my bed. But there was the matter of a straining bladder and a grumbling stomach. Hubby had left for work, promising to be back soon to check on me. Thus it was that I dragged myself out somehow, my anger, hurt & despair trailing behind me and grudgingly got some breakfast together.
Onwards to the next cycle. We are thinking of doing an IUI this time provided we can get our vacationing RE to fit us into his crazy schedule (he’s booked till the end of September!). Fingers crossed!
Of course now the one time I eagerly await my period, it decides to act like hot shit. My first period after the D&C came exactly 30 days later, lasted the regular 5 days and was followed by a clockwork ovulation pattern on CD 15. Am I to be blamed then for expecting Aunt Flo to do her thing and show up when she promised me to?
TTC is an emotional journey like no other. Every single physiological act associated with the female body becomes, by turn, cause for jubilation or depression. Usually doomsday-like in premonition, the very same menstrual period can have you turning cartwheels (metaphorically, always metaphorically!) in delight when it arrives on time after a miscarriage. So it is that right now I wait for it while next cycle onwards I will be wishing and hoping fervently to say goodbye to it for 9 months straight. Sigh!