It has been a Day

“We were on a BREAK!”

Yes, I keep quoting Ross Geller in my head. Over and over and over and over.

I should be thrilled that I ovulated on my own for the first time since February of 2009. I should be proud of my little ovaries (since the productive party shall remain anonymous, they can both take credit). That should be then end of the story.

A am thrilled. I am proud. Sort of.

Except I never got that break I so desperately needed.

And I’m not pregnant, either.

And now I’m questioning whether I should move back into medicated-cycle land or if I should gamble another cycle with my fickle ovaries and see if they function again on their own.

It was SO nice to not feel the financial pressure of making something happen with the precious dough we normally spend on medications and copays. In that sense, I got my break.

The problem with that is, if I do ovulate without medication, I will most likely only release one egg. When I’m medicated, I have released up to three eggs. So, you see, medication increases our chances.

But are the increased chances worth the financial burden and the stress? Logically thinking, yes. Historically speaking, maybe. Emotionally thinking, I HAVE NO FUCKING CLUE.

I have no fucking clue. Everyone has suggestions, but no one has answers. This is a Very Grownup Decision, and there is A LOT at stake. Each new suggestion, each new prospective treatment, each time I hear, “Just relax” – I question myself and my decisions.

Should I be doing acupuncture? (I had an appointment but canceled because the cost wasn’t going to work for us right now.)

Are the Gonal F injections worth the extra $100?

Am I putting too much trust in Western medicine?

Am I not giving my body a chance?

Is Metformin alone enough now?

Am I not pregnant because I didn’t actually throw my ovaries a party and instead scolded them for crashing my break cycle party?

If relaxing gets people pregnant, why doesn’t my insurance cover spa packages around ovulation time?

If we hadn’t fought that one night and spent the night on separate sides of the house, would I be holding a positive pregnancy test?

Why do doctors (of both Chinese and Western medicine) sell their (million possible and possibly long) treatments as The Thing that is going to work, and, without it, you’re fucked?

And since I’m having fun asking questions:

Why does pregnancy loss roll off the backs of some people yet it sits and hammers repeatedly on the heads of others?

Why did my break cycle that wasn’t a break have to have a two-week wait with an ending hovering around MOTHER’S DAY?

Why is it OK to be falter in strength, but no one can do or say anything to help during the weak times?

Sigh. I want to eat a whole pie. With whipped cream. And ice cream. And a tall glass of milk. But you know what? All that stuff has carbs, and carbs are might be EVIL to my stupid PCOS.

This sugar-free Jell-O doesn’t taste anything like the feelings I so desire to eat. I can’t fucking win.