Me: My side is killing me. It’s not my right side so I’m pretty sure it’s not my appendix.
Mr. MPB: Where does it hurt?
Me: (pointing to the exact location) I’ve been in intense pain all day, right here. If this keeps up like this for a few more days I’m probably going to have to go to the doctor.
Mr. MPB: Your probably just ovulating. Remember you produce and release more follicles in a month then most women. You’ll probably feel fine in a few hours.
Me: (feeling slightly stupid) Oh ya. That makes perfect sense.
This momentary conversation indicated two things very clearly to me:
- I no longer have any idea where I am in my monthly cycle, unless it’s that time of the month of course because that’s kind of hard to miss. I do not remember the last time I noted the start of a cycle, or the date of a cycle, or an ovulation date. I simply don’t pay attention anymore, and I’m totally okay with that fact.
- After years of tracking my monthly cycle, peeing on way to many sticks, having more medical procedures done then I’d ever like to remember and visiting all kinds of doctors and specialists, my husband clearly learned a thing or two about female anatomy. More specifically he learned a thing or two about my (broken) anatomy. It’s amazing the things infertility teaches a couple – or maybe in this circumstance just the man, as I’ve evidently forgotten everything!!
I really don’t miss that time in our lives.
I don’t miss the testing.
I don’t miss the endless procedures.
I don’t miss my weekly schedule being directed by medical appointments.
But mostly, I just don’t miss the fear of hope, the anxiety that came with each pregnancy and the sense of earth shattering loss that we endured all too frequently.
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