As this weekend draws to a close, I could probably sum it all up in one simple word: pain.
I have had severe cramping pretty much constantly since Friday night. It’s been fun. Really fun.
On Friday night I went to bed with cramps, and tossed and turned all night. It didn’t help that Doug had gone out drinking with his best friend and didn’t get home until 3am. He very rarely goes out these days, and even more rarely drinks. Our fertility specialist told him he can have a few drinks every now and then, but anything more than that affects male fertility and we certainly don’t want to risk anything. But we’ve just been through a fresh cycle, probably won’t go through another fresh cycle until February of next year, and still have an embryo on ice. Seen as we probably won’t be needing Doug’s sperm for many months I felt like it was okay to relax the rules on this one occasion.
Doug’s best friend is in the process of breaking up with his fiance after a nine year relationship. He’s in a dark place at the moment and felt like a boys night would help him. I understood that there would most likely be binge drinking taking place, but I hadn’t banked on my husband arriving home at 3am and then spending two hours vomiting into a bucket while I rubbed his back. I guess after 2 years limiting his alcohol intake, Doug can’t hold his alcohol anymore, because he was super sick.
As a consolation prize, he was very sweet to me. My husband traditionally alternates between being a grumpy drunk, and an affectionate drunk (I know this because I remember from back in our university days, not because he has ever been abusive to me!) and on Friday night he was definitely affectionate. In between barfs he continually professed his love for me, told me he could do anything “with his girl by his side” and apologised constantly for being drunk.
Saturday morning at 7.45am I dragged myself reluctantly out of bed to give myself my usual dose of crinone, and noticed when I pulled out the applicator that there was small amount of black discharge on the very tip. It must have come from right at the top of my cervix. I studied it for a while and couldn’t figure out if I was looking at black blood or really old crinone build up. The cramping was still there, but not so severe, so I figured I would just monitor the situation. I went to the pathology clinic and got my blood drawn so that first thing Monday the fertility clinic could let me know that my pregnancy is over. That way I wouldn’t have to wait to start taking pain killers for my cramps, and the sooner I get to stop taking icky crinone the better.
At 11am I went to the bathroom again. There was nothing in my underwear, but there was a very light smear of brown when I wiped with the toilet paper. Definitely the brown discharge that I always see about 3 or 4 hours before my period starts. It was over. The fat lady was finally singing. I put a pad on and got on with my day, trying to push everything to the back of my mind. But when I next went to the bathroom just after midday, the brown discharge was gone. There was nothing but the usual white cottage-cheesey crinone discharge, even when I searched very hard for anything else.
“Awesome!” I said aloud. “My reproductive system is now mind fucking me!”
Later that night, about 8.30pm, the discharge was back. It was so super light you really had to look for it, but it was definitely there. It was just like a touch of brown mixed with the crinone discharge. It wasn’t even strong enough that I could see it on the crinone applicator when I gave myself my evening dose. But the cramping definitely remained. I know that lots of women get brown blood in early pregnancy, but that blood is rarely associated with cramping. Cramping means pregnant, brown blood means pregnant, cramping and brown blood almost always means miscarriage.
Sunday morning when I woke up there was once again no brown, but the cramping had ramped up to a whole new level. I have PCOS and severe endometriosis so I’m not a stranger to awful menstrual cramping, and this was awful menstrual cramping. At any moment I expected a flood gate to open up and blood to just start pooling at my feet. By 5pm I couldn’t stand it anymore. I desperately needed my heat pack and some hardcore pain killers ASAP. I rushed to the bathroom, ripped open a Clearblue Digital package and took the test. I needed to see “Not Pregnant” on the little screen. I couldn’t wait until Monday for pain relief, I needed to know it was okay to take it now now now.
That damn test thought….and thought…and thought….and thought….and thought…..and I was almost ready to give up and throw it in the bin. I was sure I’d never seen a test take so long to make up it’s mind. Then an answer finally appeared….
Of course it still says I’m pregnant. Of course it bloody does! I have the worst luck EVER! If I was still properly pregnant by now it would say 2-3 weeks past conception. But it says 1-2. That means the pregnancy hormone in my urine is still sitting above 25 mIU/ml. Whyyyyy why why why. I just want to take a really strong pain killer and stick a heat pack on my abdomen and curl up in bed and curse the world. Why does this have to linger?
Now my bleeding is heavier. It’s still brown/black and not enough to fill a pad, but it’s definitely in the pad now, rather than just noticeable when I wipe. Just a light flow. And my cramps are so bad they’re drawing down into my legs and cutting me like a knife. Why would I be bleeding if there’s still hcg in my urine? Last time I was pregnant I didn’t bleed until 3 days after my hcg level dropped below 5. Can anyone explain why this is happening to me?
All I know is that I can’t take a pain killer until tomorrow and I really want one now.
I see so many women in the wordpress infertile community have fallen pregnant this cycle, or are newly pregnant, and all are very excited about their futures. I just wish I could know either way. I want my body to stop messing with me. I want to get this period over with so I can move on with my life. I don’t want to always be the one suffering through the bad news. I need my fat lady to show up and start singing again so I can grieve and move on. I hate being stuck in this limbo. I want it to be my turn for things to go right, or just all be over so I can leave the heartache of this cycle behind.
This stuck-in-the-middle shit is the worst.