Broken

Fair warning, this contains some info that is considered TMI to most. Unfortunately, the infertile don’t have the luxury of not knowing about things such as cervical mucus.

I don’t know when having a baby became important to me. I can’t remember anything that triggered my biological clock; I just know that for the past four years there have been very few things that have held my attention like my futile attempts to become pregnant. It started in 2010 when, upon the realization that my husband was going to miss six months of the following year, we decided I would go off my birth control pills and attempt to have a baby. I laugh now at how naive I was. After three months, I still hadn’t had  period. My doctor refused to see me until it had been six months. After six months, he proclaimed that it was a combined result of being on birth control for 9 years and my weight. He advised me to lose weight and come back when it had been a year. After a year, he finally did blood work and diagnosed me with hypothyroidism. It took six months to get my levels within normal range. Six months later, I still hadn’t had a period. My doctor insisted I just needed to lose weight. After two years without  a period, I switched doctors.

My new doctor ran multiple blood tests after my first appointment. She was concerned with my hormone levels and sent me to an endocrinologist for follow up testing. He diagnosed me with polycystic ovary syndrome (PCOS) within fifteen minutes of talking to me. I’ve now been on Metformin for over a year, along with a much higher dosage of Synthroid for my hypothyroidism. My wish to have a baby has now become a temp-taking, sex-timing, medicated nightmare which inevitably ends with me crying every month when I discover blood in my cervical mucus.

That’s where I am today. Nine days past ovulation, heartbroken over blood-streaked cervical mucus, and far too cynical to let myself think it might be implantation bleeding.