I have been watching numbers all month.
I start at one.
I don't like waiting for this day one.
Except when I'm really waiting for day five.
Can't have day five without day one.
Day five I started my five day treatment.
Treatment to pump up the Estrogen, and pump out a souped up egg.
Then I count symptoms.
With those accounted for we fit in as many times we can do our part.
Our cue to stop is my temperature jumping 0.2 degrees F above any other temps I've had all month.
That's when I start at one again.
Time to count to ten.
Ten days of this risen temperature means my progesterone is high enough to maintain a fertilized egg until implantation.
Check.
Time to count to eighteen.
By sixteen days the egg should have implanted if fertilized and the temp stays high, if not fertilized the progesterone lowers and temp drops.
Day seventeen.
This is the longest I've had high temps since tracking eight months ago.
Eighteen is supposed to be as good as a positive pregnancy test.
Day eighteen.
I count my thermometer lose a few degrees, but still it meets the criteria of reaching day eighteen.
Yet.
I know if I take a test, it won't be positive.
Day nineteen.
Sure enough, temp has dropped again.
I made peace.
Figured there were no guarantees.
It just wasn't going to be this month.
Then the cramping became almost unbearable.
I counted off several advil to survive the day.
And I wondered, but didn't want to speak it.
I thought allowing grief would mean I didn't trust God, after I promised him on day eighteen that I did.
New day one.
I had no choice but to acknowledge miscarriage number six.
None have ever been as physically painful as this one.
And that made it hard NOT to grieve.
And I had to express it.
And I realized that my voice didn't make the trust disappear.
And I started counting my blessings.
I think this means the drug was working, just too low of a dose to increase viability enough.
And so start all over again.
Waiting for day five.
