Last night I got a call from Dr. G with the results of my progesterone blood draw (which was over a week ago. ugh.): 5
For reference, anything >4 suggests ovulation has not occurred. <10 would indicate good ovulation, unmedicated. 20 or so is normal for a clomid cycle. So 5 means I landed somewhere right around shitty ovulation. When I told Dr. G (who hasn’t been the doctor at the majority of my other appointments) that I had my surge on CD19 and probably ovulated on CD20, he said something like “you shouldn’t be ovulating so long after stopping the clomid. 4 or 5 days, that’s when you should be ovulating.” When I asked him what that might mean for THIS cycle, he just said, “well, its not a GOOD thing to have such low progesterone.” and then immediately jumped to upping the clomid to 100mg next cycle.
So we took a test this morning. It was negative.
I cycled from hope to despair so rapidly I feel a little sick and a little heady. The irony is that I have been looking at my lack of ‘usual’ pre period symptoms as a good thing, when in fact they were just additional evidence that my progesterone was so low that it probably doesn’t even matter if an egg managed to get fertilized.
Its pretty impossible to not feel sad, heartbroken, dull. Its also pretty impossible not to feel like my body is fucked up. Maybe not beyond repair, you know, but fucked up nevertheless.
I sent an e-mail off asking about getting on metformin, upping the clomid, using a trigger, and getting a repeat SA for BFF. This last item is the one hanging darkly over our heads. La is sick with worry that the test will tell us what we absolutely don’t want to hear. She has already started asking me how much it will need to improve for us to move forward with him. I don’t have an answer for her because all of this just feels like too fucking much. And, I want something new to try, to make it feel like we are at least on a new part of the rollercoaster instead of on an endless loop.
Today I walked into work to find all of my coworkers crowded around my colleague’s 9 month old daughter. I held it together but it took all the energy I had. My colleague struggled to get her baby too, so you’d think this might make it feel less horrific. It doesn’t.
Tonight I will do my damndest to show up and small talk and charm charm charm the attendees at a fundraiser for the organization whose board of director’s I sit on. I wore my black stilletos and velvet suit jacket to try and give me a boost. I’m not the best schmoozer on my best days, but at least I can drink some wine while I fake it.