This afternoon I turned to Sea and asked, “What happens to the 19.8 million sperm after they all die? Where do they go?”
Clearly my body received the message that I dislike suspense, and decided to cut that short two days before my scheduled pregnancy test at Clinic One.
Which is to say, my period is beginning.
After 15+ years of bleeding, I’m fairly adept at figuring out when it’s on its way. A particular brand of irratability, increased chocolate consumption… yes, it’s true, I follow all of the PMS cliches. By Friday enough of these symptoms had made an appearance that I predicted a bleeding uterus would soon follow. And today that prediction came true.
My Clinic One acquaintance had told me about wild fluctuations between hope and despair in the days leading up to her pregnancy test and how she had cried at the negative result. I wondered at the time if this would be me. It isn’t. I’m disappointed by the money spent, that we have to wait longer than another nine months to have a kid, that the suspense is clearly just going to continue, that this isn’t it. Disappointment that is intensified by a cold and cloudy day and nagging cramps. But I’m not crying over the 19.8 million sperm and one egg that didn’t make it either.
Back to Clinic One on Tuesday. Come on, November– bring it.