The first pregnancy test I ever took was completely unwarranted. I was convinced I was pregnant with Cody's child (conceived through immaculate conception, of course). I stressed myself into my period being late, and then proceeded to advertise my anxiety and irrational fear of pregnancy to all of my closest friends, until one of them bought a pregnancy test to end the madness. I obviously was not pregnant. However, what's most interesting about this story is that I did not worry about being pregnant just that one silly time. This happened to me more than once. I used to take pregnancy tests like candy. I've even dabbled in the world of emergency contraceptives (just once, I swear). I. AM. CRAZY.
Anyway, I had a period for the first time since Lupron last month. I imagined there would be more anticipation of life post-surgery and post-Lupron. Last July when I had the procedure to remove the endometriosis and then started Lupron injections, I told myself that all of that hassle would be worth it. Dr. Bell, as well as the internet (my much more informative second opinion), ensured me that a person's best chances of conception are the months immediately following a laparoscopy and Lupron. Last month was the month. Or as it turns out, it wasn't much of anything. I had two ultrasounds both of which revealed small follicles and no ovulation. The surgery, the Lupron did not combine for a magically fertile month. The ultrasounds entailed the same subdued, ambiguous responses from the lady examining my reproductive organs. Same pathetic looks. Same half-hearted promises about next month. Same sinking feeling. Same sad elevator ride back to the real world where people don't know that your ovaries don't work and your insides aren't like everyone else's. Same experiences I had before Lupron except less traumatic.
I did not once imagine that my fertility issues were solved. I knew that a minimally invasive surgery and hormone therapy was not enough to fix this mess. The internet had given me enough statistics to understand that severe endometriosis is not generally a quick fix. I no longer think I'm pregnant. Ever. Even with all the sex in the world, I still don't think I'm pregnant. I am on the opposite end of the spectrum than the crazy kid bumming pregnancy tests off her friends all those years ago.
Alright, alright...I have a confession. I am not completely cured of my "I'm always pregnant!" attitude. Despite the small follicles and proof of no ovulation, there was an excruciatingly long wait for my next period. I honestly didn't pay much attention until it had been 34 days and still no period. I kept telling myself that I was still messed up from Lupron and the extra long cycle was just a side effect. I knew I wasn't pregnant. I wasn't, right? I managed to hold off until day 36. I knew there was a test leftover from months ago and on a whim I gave in. There was a few seconds in my bathroom alone staring at the faint line forming when I thought that maybe, just maybe the ultrasounds were wrong. Maybe the lady measured wrong. Maybe the follicles were bigger than she thought. Maybe I ovulate on day 25, rather than 14 or 21. Maybe some force stronger than ultrasounds and ovulation had come into play and this was the moment that I would start writing a completely different story about an unlikely pregnancy, despite all of the naysayers.
But it wasn't the moment. There is no different story. The naysayers were simply reality-staters and I am not pregnant. The month that I have been waiting for since July has come and gone and the severity of the situation only continues to grow.
Next month we will try Clomid and a trigger shot. Next month we will continue ultrasounds in dark, sad rooms. Next month we will ride the same elevator and see the same faces. We will sit in the same waiting room and lie on the same table. We will measure follicles and endometrial linings. We will stare at our feet and make our husbands ask all the questions. We will scour the internet to try to guess the next step, to imagine what the next month holds. We will tell ourselves that this wasn't the right month. We will convince ourselves that we don't really want a baby right now anyway. And then in 28 days or 37 days, we will start all over again in hopes that someday there will be two lines on one of those stupid tests.
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