The whole “trying to conceive” process (a.k.a. TTC) can be tiring when you have a history of fertility issues. For me, last month was the perfect example of how tiresome it can get.

The month of May marked the first cycle we were allowed to start trying again. I went off birth control, and immediately started preparing and getting back into TTC mode. In short, I was armed with my box of ovulation sticks, and I knew how to use them! Ovulation sticks look like home pregnancy tests. They come in a box of 7 sticks or so. You pee on a stick a few days before you think you are going to ovulate. If you have a 28 day cycle, you probably ovulate around Day 14, and should probably start testing on Day 10 or 11. Every woman is different, and it depends on your cycle length. If you get a positive test that means you are experiencing an LH surge, and will ovulate within 24-48 hours (a.k.a. you better get busy ASAP).

I got ahead of myself, and began testing with the ovulation sticks very early starting with Day 8. Negative. No big deal. I tested the next day. Negative. The day after that. Negative. As I inched closer to Day 14, I don’t know how to explain it other than my body just didn’t feel like it was going to ovulate. And, by all scientific accounts, it didn’t. I never did get a positive ovulation test.

For the first time in months, we had a real chance to conceive this fake, overly-discussed baby, and I wasn’t ovulating? Are you kidding me?! For those of you that slept through health class, a woman has to ovulate for there to be any possibility of conception. No ovulation = bad.

I tried not to over-think things (which is funny when you’re TTC. You over-think EVERYTHING), and L and I continued giving it the old college try. However, I wasn’t very hopeful, and was already settling into the mindset of expecting my period. I told myself that I would get my period on Day 26, and that was that. I’ve had a 26 day cycle for as long as I can remember.

Then a funny thing happened (or didn’t happen, I should say).

Day 27, 28, 29, and 30 came and went. No bleeding. No signs that bleeding was on its way.

Enter hope.

Those four days were confusing for me. I didn’t tell L much of what was going on. I kept inferring that my period was on its way, but in the back of my mind, I was secretly excited. I had hope. Hope that maybe I did ovulate, and the sticks just didn’t catch my LH surge. (It happens. I googled it, and some alien lady got knocked up without a positive ovulation stick, and asked Yahoo Answers about it back in 2004. Solid evidence, right?) Hope that my period’s wackiness meant something significant. My period is NEVER late. Early – yes! Late – never. I was actually starting to believe the voices of hope in my head.

That’s never a good thing.

Sure enough on the evening of Day 31, I got my answer. Blood everywhere. I was a crampy, bloody mess. It’s like my period was mocking me. It said, “Haha, you thought I was gone? Nice try, lady!” as it went on a tirade through my body.

At that point, I hit a major low. I couldn’t fight the feelings of utter sadness, and disappointment. I told L that I was giving myself a day to just feel bad. One day, and then I was cut off. We had a really busy weekend ahead of us, and I was determined not to get caught up in the shitty circumstances of my life.

Honestly, in my heart, I wanted to give up. If you know me, you know that (a) I’m not a drama queen, and (b) I don’t say things like “I give up” lightly. In the past two years or so, I’ve never even hinted at giving up during our entire process of TTC. Yet, I’m not going to lie, the thought entered my mind for awhile. I expelled it almost as quickly as it entered. But still, I had allowed it to creep in. Defeat. Emotionally, that was pretty significant for me.

L gave me my day, and I just allowed myself to feel like crap. I even divulged some of my baby sorrows to L, and vice versa, and we felt bad for ourselves together. The honesty was kinda nice. We weren’t pretending anymore.

This hurt.

Then the next day, I felt a little better. And the day after that was better than the one before.

I’ve decided that I’m not going to give up. Yes, I was knocked down. It has happened many times before, and it will likely happen again in the future. But I’ve gotten up, and I’m ready to start over again.

Onto the next month…