The typical spotting towards the end of my cycle has commenced. It could be many things. It could be implantation spotting. It could be simple irritation from the fantastic progesterone suppository. Or it could be my cycle coming to an inevitable end.
I don't want to get all pessimistic or anything, but I just can't help it. I have lost track of the number of cycles we have tried-both naturally and medically-and that is no joke. People in this situation can tell you every milestone and devastating event in great detail from the exact date it happened to what they ate or did that day. I have... lost... count. Sad really.
This pessimism has not hurt my success rate as far as I am concerned. What it has done is help me cope with the disappointment each month has provided me. I will be let down yet again should we fail-but I am prepared for it. I need to be prepared for it the same way you put on a life vest before the ship sinks and the bottom falls out. It is my defense. This month in particular has been tough. Everything has gone textbook. Perfect follicles and many of them responding exactly as they should, well-timed intralipid infusion and a Saturday insemination (which we succeeded at both times in the past), and the expected, yet still disturbing large bruises that have just started making an appearance from the blood thinner injected in my abdomen. It all is going to script. We have worked so hard and kept to a medication routine diligently. It will truly be devastating should it fail.
One step at a time... that fat lady has not had a chance to sing yet. I am still in the running until that bitch shows up. And if she does show, I will invite her in for a glass of wine.