7 July 2010

I Really Thought it had Worked this Time

La Pedrera
This week we really thought it had worked. I had a sharp stabbing pain that took my breath away on Sunday morning before meeting, and later that day some spotting that quickly stopped. I desperately tried not to think about it in case I jinxed it, but I couldn’t help hoping. I was planning to wait till Thursday before testing, but by Tuesday morning I thought I better check. Not because I thought the test would be positive you understand (though obviously I hoped), but because I didn’t think I could handle the crushing disappointment after another two days of optimistic dreams and fantasies.
From the beginning we knew trying to conceive would be difficult. I’ve always had a low sex drive, but I also have Fibromyalgia, which is a chronic pain and fatigue condition, coupled with Hypermobility. Sex just isn’t that easy when you’re exhausted, everything hurts, and your nerves are all miss-wired. Add problems like hip joints slipping painfully out of place and wrists that bend too far back...to say the least, it becomes something of a mine field.
So from the beginning we knew we had to plan. Trying every other day for a whole month was completely out of the question. A couple of months before we started, we began taking Basal temperatures every morning. This gave us a good idea of when we needed to try and we kept it up for about six months. The problem was that you start every single morning thinking about pregnancy. You can’t escape it, and when things don’t work, the thermometer is a constant reminder that it’s not as easy as you hoped. So we switched to the ovulation tests. They aren’t as cheap, but having a few weeks each month when I could just ignore the whole subject was a god send!
I should probably add here that through either nurture or nature, anxiety runs in my family. I’m fully aware that I shouldn’t get so worked up over things...but that really doesn’t help. The biggest problem is that my anxiety is bad enough to short my cycle. My cycle is somewhere between 24-27 days generally, when my mother came to visit for a month I cut that down to 22. I can even do it intentionally. I knew my husband was going to be out of town one month so I let my anxiety run riot and shorted that month to 22 days. It’s an impressive trick, but it means if I get stressed and accidentally short a cycle...that’s my fault.
And as times passed, I’ve become more stressed about getting pregnant, creating a vicious circle. I’ve been avoiding this blog the last few days, because I dare not let myself think freely. I might think about the whole messy process of trying to conceive, getting even more stressed and anxious. So not only am I censoring everything I say, but now I’m trying to censore what I think. Every time a stray thought wandered through my mind I’d smash it, desperate to smother everything. It doesn’t work. Ignoring huge elephants in the room is not a peaceful pastime.
So we decided it’s time to go see a doctor. I completely and utterly dread this. For months I've been spotting a few days before my period and had a huge spotty rash down both arms, which I think is stress related. A quick check on the internet suggests that chronic anxiety can lead to low progesterone, which leads to early spotting, which is a sign that something is wrong. If I’m right, it sounds like an easy fix, but who wants to go into their doctor’s office and say “Hi, I can’t get pregnant because I worry too much.” It’s ridiculous! Then you get the condescending look from the doctors, like you’re only just on this side of sane, as they placate and patronise you.
I hope going to the doctor’s won’t be that bad, but I’ve had a really bad run of them. In any case I don’t have a choice. The wonderful Mr. Goldfish is making the appointment and in charge of talking to the doctor (as they don’t think he’s mad), I’m just there for the tests. In ways I hope it’s his tests that show problems, as it would make a nice change. However he’s the picture of health and I’m the one falling to bits. If there’s going to be a problem anywhere it’s bound to be me.