Wow...I am truly touched by the outpouring of sympathy-and more importantly, empathy-that my last post generated. I am so incredibly grateful for the existence of this online infertility community. No matter how awful I feel, I never feel alone. So, thank you.
Today is cycle day 1. My temp never rose after last Thursday and the ill-fated pregnancy test. Instead, it continued its slow decline. I had the faintest bit of spotting on Saturday morning, but then it stopped. I must admit, I had not abandoned hope. Sunday morning on the way into church I stopped by the bathroom because I just had to check again for any more spotting. There it was, of course, bright red. Suddenly I was overwhelmed by cramps. My heart finally accepted what my head had known for days-there was no more reason to hope. I spent the entire worship service blinking back tears. To keep from sobbing I silently repeated "100 mg of clomid next time" over and over and tried to convince myself that would be the answer. We made it into the car before I actually broke down and let the tears fall.
That afternoon I was so sad. I went straight to bed and did not get out until Monday morning. I have been depressed and angry about my infertility before. I have cried before over how much I want a child and how unfair life can be. But I don't think I have ever been so saddened by the end of a specific cycle. I think it was because I have never allowed myself to have so much hope for a specific cycle. Usually, I cling to a safe, generic hope that eventually I will have a child of my own (and I include adoption in that scenario, an adopted child would be a child of my own).
Anyway, just to keep things confusing, although I spent all Sunday afternoon in bed crying from emotional and physical pain (the cramps were awful!), there was no more blood. Hope (would you believe it? I scarcely can) crept back in. Monday morning brought more of the same - bbt just barely hovering above the coverline, wretchedly painful cramps, a tiny bit of spotting. At work I was too busy to give it much thought. Around lunch time I ran into the one and only soul at work who knows about my reproductive drama. She asked how I was doing, and I told her in detail. She gave me the rather good advice that I ought to call my doctor. After our talk I was headed back to my office to do just that when I popped into the bathroom for yet another spot check (ha ha) and the flood of blood had finally arrived. I waited until today to call Dr. RE's office, and instead of asking "what the hell is going on with my body?" I merely confirmed that the recent dramatics did not alter the plan for this cycle: 100 mg clomid days 2-6, opk beginning day 10, post-coital test. Apparently the only thing that has been altered is my mental state. The plan is still on. (By the way, my nurse insisted that opk's will work for people with pcos and that they rarely see false positives with their pcos patients. So, that's good, I guess.)
Since yesterday started with spotting, no matter how bloody it got by the afternoon it does not count as day 1. Thus, today is day 1 and I will begin the new and improved clomid dosing on Valentine's day. Wish me luck. And thank you again. Really, truly.