It is officially ovulation day for me. I had a clear positive yesterday, preceded by a few lighter tests and a nice lighter test today. It’s about cd 12, so slightly early, but after my day 9 ovulation last month I’ll take it. Since the timing was more predictable this time, we got in two perfectly good ‘attempts’, if ya know what I mean. Would have been three if I’d ovulated on day 13 or 14, but nothing to complain about. So, overall, this cycle is about as good as I could expect a cycle to be. Everything appears to be in place this month.
As of yesterday I was feeling very optimistic about this. Usually, positive opk day is the high point of my month, because anything is still possible. But, already today I’ve dropped in to my usually negativity. When a BFP is just theoretical, I can be optimistic and beleive it might happen. In fact, I do beleive that in some theoretical world it’s possible for me to have a successful pregnancy, and as long as it remains theoretical I’m happy. But as soon as the moment passes from theoretical to an actual egg and an actual sperm that have to do all the right things with each other, and then my body has to not do whatever it did the last 6 times to spit them back out, it all becomes very real.
Basically, I beleive that hypothetically I could get pregnant and stay pregnant, but any actual attempt to do so will always fail. It’s kind of like taking an exam- you might beleive that you’re capable of acing it, but when you sit down to actually take it you lose all your confidence. This has been a really tough issue for me because it’s really tied up in whether or not we keep trying or not. How can I ever give up when I beleive (and the statistics agree) that its entirely possible that I could have a successful pregnancy at some point? But when I sit down to start taking the exam I just know I’m going to fail again.
With all of this in mind, and knowing how miserably I succumbed to anger and frustration last month, I’ve been trying to get my head in the right place for the coming tww. First of all, I’ve adjusted my thinking a little about the chemical pregnancies I had in May and June. A little back story quickly: May was the first month we started trying again since my 4th miscarriage in December. I got a faint positive on day 12 or so, but then the symptoms started to go away right around day 14. I had a feeling, so I took another test and it was even lighter than the first time, and I knew. The next month I was having lots of cramps and started spotting around day 13, and figured my period was starting. I tested anyways though just to be sure before I stopped taking progesterone. I was surprised that it was a full positive, not even faint. I was pretty sure it was going to be another chemical pregnancy given the spotting, but I was out of town and couldn’t go in for a blood test. I kept spotting, but never got a real period, then tested again a week later. It was still positive, but getting lighter. I stopped taking the progesterone and got my period a few days later.
I’ve said a few times before that I wasn’t counting the chemical pregnancies as miscarriages, and I was doing this mostly for emotional reasons. First of all, they just didn’t hit me as hard as the miscarriages. In fact, the last BFN was harder than the June chemical pregnancy- probably because with the spotting I knew it wasn’t going to happen before I even knew I was pregnant. They just passed through before I got attached at all. On the other hand, there’s no medical reason to make a distinction between a chemical pregnancy and a miscarriage; it’s just a matter of how early it happens. From everything I’ve read, medically they probably do count in understanding my situation and risk of future miscarriages.
Which brings me to what I think is the biggest reason I didn’t want to count them. The number 6. I am completely terrified by it. It feels so unfair to have jumped from 4 to 6 so fast, with so little time to get used to the idea. 4 miscarriages is also a large number, but I had 2 and a half years to adjust to it. This feels thrust upon me out of no where, and just so unfair. A change this drastic feels like the situation is completely hopeless. I mean, if you failed a test 6 times, you’d just cut your losses, right?? The odds are just racking up against me faster than I can keep up with.
With this on my mind, I’ve spent the last week or so fixated on figuring out how to be realistic about the chances of success with a number like 6. I’ve been googling all over the place, desperately looking for examples of people who were successful after 6 losses. There just isn’t a lot of data, presumably because by the time they hit 6 losses, most people have either gotten too old or given up. They are damn hard to find, but there are a few cases out there of successful pregnancies after 6 or more losses.
It’s going to take some time, but I’m trying to come to terms with the number 6. It’s a little like my identity has suddenly changed, and I need to figure out who I am again. The biggest reason to do this right now is that I’m hoping it will help me handle the tww. If I count from June as the last time I was pregnant, we’ve only been trying 3 months, rather than 5. This is really a silly thing to be taking so seriously, but it actually does help. I’m terrified that I’ve hit some tipping point (um, turning 30 maybe??) and on top of everything else, it will be harder and harder to get pregnant each time. So, there’s a definite trade-off here. I’m hoping that by thinking that this is only month 3 of trying, I won’t be as upset if and when it’s another negative.