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This post was written in March 2016 – after my first medicated cycle. Let’s just say it didn’t exactly go ‘to plan’.
You can catch up on previous instalments of my story here…
So…I was cautiously optimistic about starting Clomid during my last cycle. I didn’t expect it to help me become miraculously pregnant first time around, but I did hope that perhaps something promising would appear in my ultrasound. Something to tell me that I was going to ovulate up a storm etc.
I was nervous before my scan, but hopeful. I’d had a strong reaction to the Clomid. I’d been hilariously (and awkwardly) emotional all of a sudden while taking the tablets. I thought that must mean something was taking place in my body. I did notice that my already fairly heavy period became much heavier than it had ever been but I thought that any change in my body had to be good, because there’d been no changes whatsoever in the whole time we’d been trying for a baby, which had been discouraging. I felt like the time it was going to work, you’d think there’d be different symptoms throughout my cycle.
Nope. Turns out, things can probably get worse.
It turned out I had only one follicle on my left ovary and a 4cm cyst. A cyst that hadn’t been there when I started the search for better fertility a few months previous. There was a chance the Clomid caused it (i.e. the doctor couldn’t rule it out). Great. That thing I was hoping would make a difference seemed to be making more problems.
I was told the cyst would probably go away by itself but the doc would check on me before I was due another round of Clomid.
I went to this check hoping like hell the cyst would be gone. That I would be told I could try again. That even perhaps, I might be pregnant (I had an early blood test to check).
Nope. The cyst got a little smaller, but not enough. Now I have to go and have scans to see if it’s endometriosis/an endometrioma. In which case, I might have to have a procedure to have it removed. I was advised to not have Clomid again at this point (pending the next scan etc). That’s a cycle or two without help. It’s just me and Mr Unprepared, all alone in this again. While it’s not forever, it’s a setback. It’s tough. It’s disappointing.
I was really angry on the way home from my appointment. Frustrated. Pissed off that life is unfair. Scared that my body hates everything. Worried about the stress and what it will do to my body. I cried.
And then I went home and just tried to get on with life. I tried to remember the so called perks of not being pregnant or worrying that I might be. I could drink alcohol 100% guilt free. I would be able to exercise vigorously without even an inkling of doubt about whether I could be hurting/risking something (I then had in the back of my mind that I could rupture the cyst and be in all kinds of hell so I did end up being careful anyway). I could take all the ibuprofen I need for my period pains. Not be pissed off at the fact that I had to pretend like I might be pregnant for half of my life, when I knew deep down I wasn’t.
So now I will just try to relax until I am put into action again. It’s hard to see pictures of pregnant people in my Facebook feed or hear talk of little babies, but I am strong and I will get through this somehow.