On to month eight

So after my awesome New York weekend, I returned home to take a pregnancy blood test at the doc's office.

And it's negative.

Which I'm OK about. Although it would have been cool to find out I was pregnant that day; it was the Mister's and my 1.5 year wedding anniversary. The Mister was upset and quiet when I told him. But we're gearing (heck, I'm gearing) up for round two. Waiting for the period to start.

But it doesn't. Instead (and I apologize for TMI right here), I've had a few days of spotting. Which I never have. And it's not bright red-the-period's-here-spotting. Which makes me wonder what's up down there, anyway.

I'm going into the doc's office tomorrow for more blood work. While they say the blood pregnancy tests don't give false negatives, I can't explain the four days of spotting. They say Clomid doesn't cause spotting, but I've been super regular before and I don't know what this stuff is. They're also testing my estradiol and progesterone levels to figure out what day of my cycle I'm on, so I can figure out when to take Clomid for for round two. The nurse today said nothing is seriously wrong, so I shouldn't worry about anything.

Years ago, in between relationships, and tired of the countless blind dates I went on, I thought seriously that perhaps I would never get married, never meet the future Mr. Lyrehca, and that I would just be a single lady. This took me some time to think through, but I figured that perhaps that was the way life was meant to be for me. I loved my independence, loved my NY life, and thought maybe this was it.

I could accept the concept. I was OK with it.

It was also short-lived. I met Mr. Lyrehca not long after, and--look at that--actually fell in love with him, and him me. After some more soul searching, I left New York to move in with him and we ultimately got engaged and got married. And here we are. I'm not a single lady anymore, and I really love and appreciate all that I have now: the Mister, our marriage, our life together, our house, and so on.

So when I read people say they're sorry I'm not pregnant this month, or that they're waiting for me to make an announcement, I've thought, maybe this is a similar road. Maybe I won't end up having a biological baby. We could adopt. We could talk about remaining child-free. I'd probably be able to live with and accept whatever life dealt me. I certainly have with everything else so far.

But then my acupuncturist tells me that he thinks I'm healthy and he thinks I'll be able to conceive. My reproductive endocrinologist says the same thing, that I'm young and that there's plenty more assisted technology to try before I contact an adoption agency. I know several women older than me who have conceived naturally even after they did repeated and expensive rounds of IUI and IVF.

So while this infertility interlude is where we are right now, maybe change is just ahead, just as Mr. Lyrehca was when I thought I'd always be single. And maybe all this life experience will somehow let me really appreciate what I will eventually find or be down the road. Maybe I'll be a biological mom or an adoptive mom, or the coolest auntie around (heck, I already AM). Whatever happens, I want to be able to fully appreciate it, no matter where I eventually end up.