The witch arrived this morning. That’s 3 months come and gone, actively trying, and not pregnant again.
On to month #4.
It’s sad when your period is more reliable than anything else in your life. That just sounds depressing doesn’t it! On the flip side, I’m grateful that I seem to be having “regular” periods again, or at least I have since July.
I am scared that my yeast infection will come back this week, since last month it came right after my heavy days (CD 3). I keep thinking there is a connection. So I’m nervous. And I have to travel for work this week and be around work colleagues for the next 3-4 days (not to mention be around 100+ people one night). EESH. I had the nurse call in some more of that medication so I can take it with me. I’m hoping and fervently praying that a) it doesn’t come back, and b) if it does start up again and I have to use the medication, that it will work just as well again.
Estimated Due Dates
Every month for the past 3 months I have calculated my estimated due date “if I were to conceive this cycle.” I have done it immediately on cycle day 1, every month since July. I don’t know why I torture myself, but at the time it feels like fun. April 9th… May 13th… June 12th. I’m not doing that this month. I’m tired of feeling sad when it doesn’t happen. It’s emotionally exhausting. I know it will be sometime in mid-July if it happens this month, and that’s all I need to know. Heck, at this point it’s more than I want to know, but my brain now remembers the consecutive months I have calculated and it’s hard-wired to know when the next one will be.
Does July have any significance for me? Not really. April would have been poetic, bringing things around full-circle, since that was when I lost my first child. May would have happened the week of Mother’s Day. June would have been the week of Father’s Day. July… well, there’s nothing special about it really. Although, this cycle I will most likely be taking a pregnancy test the week of November 4th — my first due date. Another thing that scares me, as I don’t know that I can handle a Big Fat Negative that week. Part of me wants to take a test on that exact day, in case it’s positive, even though I really don’t think it will be positive given the past 3 months’ results. I will probably test that day, though, because I can’t help myself. Who wouldn’t want the chance to turn their first expected due date from a grief-stricken, lonely experience to an exciting, celebratory one? It’s worth the risk of heartache, I think. My heart will already be breaking that day anyway.
Skipping ahead… if I get pregnant next month, I would be due around our wedding anniversary in August (which is also the month I saw my rainbows… interesting). <–See what I do? I torture myself with significant dates, looking for meaningful things in each one. And when it doesn’t happen, I feel dejected.
I tend to look for special dates or times of significance because I’m kind of a dreamer, a romantic. The irony that I lost my child on my birthday is not lost on me — it was definitely the worst reverse of what I wanted to happen on that day. Honestly, though, I don’t care when I have my next child. I just want it to happen. That time will automatically become special, and what’s more — if there’s no other significance around that month or time frame, it will be uniquely special. Kind of like November was.