Friday, April 4, 2014

same old same old

I've run out of clever titles for writing that CD1 arrived again. Oh well. The only thing my body seems able to do well is end each cycle predictably, like clockwork. 12 or 13 days post-peak, then AF. Done.

Rebecca wrote beautifully about tears yesterday, and CD1 makes me wonder: how many tears could I possible have left? Haven't I used all of them by now? My tear reservoir must be bigger than the Pacific Ocean!! Can I donate tears to a drought??

My tears don't seem to notice that we've been here before. CD1 is far from a new thing. I could tell yesterday it was coming from the aches and twinges that usually precede it.

But then again, every CD1 is different because it's grieving a different lack, a different absence, a different child that might have been. This time it's grieving that we won't have a child due around Christmas (that has always seemed so perfect), we won't have "news" to tell my parents at Easter...and speaking of that, looks like my next "fertile" time is while my parents are visiting, staying in the guest room next to our bedroom...lovely timing.

It's grieving not being able to celebrate new life in my womb while everything is coming to life outdoors. And so on.

Time to get it in gear: I have to schedule a blood draw for day 3 and then an ultrasound series for day 11 until ovulation. I guess a silver lining (grasping for anything here...) is that maybe we'll have some new, helpful information before this next cycle is over.

It is really hard to stay hopeful!!! I'm just so used to disappointment. Sometimes I daydream about how I would feel if I ever actually had a positive pregnancy test, and it just seems so surreal, like something that happens to other people.

Sorry for a downer of a post. On CD1, I set my expectations low: wake up, shower, get dressed, go to work, don't snap at Mr. M, don't cry at work, try to get something down but be gentle to yourself. There are many, many tears "inside" during work hours. Lots of grieving. If no one else sees, Jesus does.


  1. Ugh, gut-wrenching, because I know exactly how you feel (as much as any one of us can). After my pitiful CD21 blood draw, I am awaiting CD1 any day now, but nevertheless, it hurts so much every time. And the crying at work--just terrible! I have had to literally devise tricks and plans to keep my co-workers from seeing my tear-soaked face...faking a sneeze to grab a tissue, pinching the bridge of my nose, or RUNNING to the bathroom and letting the tears slide onto the floor. It's such a low place to be. But, as you beautifully wrote, Jesus sees this grieving, and He has the power to comfort us like no one else. Cast your cares on Him today, and know that others are praying for you.

  2. Prayers and (((hugs))) to you. CD1 sucks.

  3. CD1 is never fun when you are TTC'ing. Cycles are rollar coaster rides...up and down. I had an interesting conversation with a fertile friend yesterday...about living with IF.

  4. Hi Ecce,
    I haven't commented in a while, but I've been following along and praying for you. I'm sorry you're dealing with another CD 1. Infertility is like a wound that crusts and scabs over, only to be picked off anew every month. Hugs and prayers to you.

  5. I'm so sorry. Praying for you! I think one of the hardest parts is the feeling that the cross will never end and knowing that there are no guarantees. Except that those tears, joined with the blood and water flowing from Christ's side, can bring life to the world. But I pray that those tears are soon tears of joy.

  6. Those tears on the inside can be so lonely, but you are right, Jesus sees!!!! and I am sending hugs. I really really do hope u get some good new info next cycle, but for now it's ok to be sad. :(

  7. Thanks everyone - your kind words are so appreciated!

  8. I think CD1 will always be sad and painful as long as you're in active treatment phase, or at least that how it seems to me. I hope you get some good information from your ultrasounds.

  9. You're right...Jesus does see them, and He knows.

  10. I'm a few days late here, but I'm so sorry this CD1 was a rough one. Sending e-hugs.

    "My tear reservoir must be bigger than the Pacific Ocean!!" YES!!! A perfect representation of the tears we've all cried.

    And I think this is the most comforting way you could approach this -- "If no one else sees, Jesus does." A beautiful reminder. Thanks, ecce. Hope you're feeling a little better now! But even if you're not, that's ok too. This stuff stinks.