When failure repeats

     This week has been depressing. There is no other way to describe the emotional roller coaster of happily anticipating good news only to receive another heartbreaking blow of disappointment. I am not trying to sound as though I am whining, or seeking sympathy; but, I cannot shake this feeling that I am in a major funk.
     Monday, my husband and I went back to the doctor to have him look over my temperature chart, and run some blood work to check for ovulation. A few weeks ago, I had a drop in temperature, which is usually the sign that ovulation has begun. Dr. Smith took one look at my chart and said, "Well, April, I think you've ovulated!" The rest of the appointment went on with discussion of when we would know we were pregnant, and for how long he would monitor me after confirming pregnancy. He had me so excited, anxious, joyful, and scared... everything a first-time mom feels. My husband was also pretty excited, because he has been telling me for a week that I was pregnant based on the "symptoms" I was experiencing (nausea, fatigue, swollen and sore breasts). So, I had my blood drawn, and left awaiting the phone call Tuesday that would confirm that this was the "first chance we truly had at getting pregnant" (Dr. Smith's words).
     Tuesday morning I woke up with a fear of bad news. I couldn't shake the feeling that the temperature drop was a fluke. I was right. In the midst of pure chaos after realizing our dogs had literally broken out of the fence (seriously they broke boards, and the biggest one is only 32 pounds), I got the phone call from  the doc's nurse. The blood work showed that I had not ovulated (again). The doctor's new orders are to call when/ if I get my period. If I do not get it by the time I am due (which is supposed to be 10-2), then I am to call in three weeks. THREE MORE WEEKS!
     I feel like I am fighting with myself. Half of me wants to begin treatment immediately, because I would like to pregnant before the end of the year. The other half of me thinks that we have to start right away, because this is going to take a while. I didn't ovulate this month, so I will not likely have a period. I know that I have to have a period before I can begin Clomid, because of the nature of the medication, so why not just give me a period inducing med (like Provera), and get a jump start on things. Provera usually takes 10 days to induce a period; Clomid induces ovulation in the typical 28-day cycle. So, we are now looking at Thanksgiving before we could even get pregnant.
     My husband told me it is difficult for him to understand my need for a "time table". I want to be pregnant before the end of the year (I turn 30 in December), but not because it is some need to meet some biological clock as much as it is a need to set a goal. Sorry to brag, but I have accomplished a lot in 29 years. The reason is because I have always set goals for myself. I know that fertility treatment is at best a guessing game, which scares me to death. I am not fully able to set a goal in this case. Dr. Smith shared the statistic that, with a couple with no fertility issues, there is only a 1 and 5 chance of conceiving. Now that my hormones are balanced, we have a better chance than what we did, but still not 1 and 5. With Clomid, there is only a 35% of conceiving. Other treatments are even lower. We could be undergoing fertility treatments for years before we conceive, or we could get pregnant in a few weeks. The fear of the unknown is killing me.
     My husband says, that he is not giving up on my bum ovaries. And, he believes that he will be a father, and I will be a mother. I believe that too, but I wonder when. It breaks my heart every time we go to the doctor, and hear that it didn't happen again. It breaks my heart every time I have another month go by without ovulating. It breaks my heart that I cannot make my husband a father. I blame myself every time, because it is my body that has failed.