Patheticness IS a Word Goddammit. And So Is Not-Knowingness. So There.

Well, I don’t really have much to say.  I guess without news to report on the infertility front, I’m a hollow shell of a woman.  I must have nothing else going on in my pathetic life, other than going from one two-week-wait to another,  only to start the whole thing over again, like a crazy hamster wheel.  Blech!  I am sickened at the patheticness of this.

But.  There is one tidbit of news to share:  I decided to stop taking my BBT each morning. For much of the last couple of years, first thing in the morning I have faithfully jammed that digital thermometer under my tongue, being careful not to make any unexpected moves as that could raise my temperature a teeny tiny fraction of a degree.  I had my own private lab set up, with pen and clipboard and chart right next to the bed, so that I could perform this diagnostic test without disturbing BeBop or Bosco the Dog, who just lies in wait at the end of our bed until one of us moves which is apparently dog for:  crawl right up between us and put your furry head on my pillow.  Yes, QUITE the mecca of romance what with the chart and the clipboard and the thermometer and the dog. (And I wonder why we never have sex unless we ‘have to’??)

Anyhoo, I’ve always loved the TCYF thing because it did make me feel that I had a degree of control.  Which?  I LOVE LOVE LOVE. But. It’s not so much control as it is insight or knowledge.  And yes knowledge is power and blahdyblahblah, but what the BBT-ing did was give me a window into what my body was doing and when, without having to rely on OPKs or tests or doctors.  And I did feel empowered by this.

And then…it just all felt like a cruel joke.  Yes, I could pretty well tell if I had ovulated and if so, when. Even last month I saw a one-day drop at 10DPO (implantation, I shrieked that morning) and then a second temperature rise (I’m pregnant, I shrieked that morning) but we all know how that turned out.

So long story even longer, I realized that doing this every morning was a self-imposed prison of some sort.  I believed that knowing what was happening could give me that sense of control I so crave, but it was all an illusion, much like that scaly David Blaine’s attempt to escape from those under-water chains and hold his breathe for like an hour.

About a week ago, I stopped taking my temperature each morning and I have to say: 

I’M FREE, people! 

Raise the roof, wave your hands in the air like you just don’t care, oh yeah, sisters rejoice in the freedom that is RCYF (Relinquishing Control of Your Fertility).

So I have no idea if I ovulated or when, I don’t know how the timing of the IUI was (or wasn’t), I won’t know when to expect my period.  I am totally in the dark, letting my body do its thing, and it feels great.

I’m sure I’ll freak out in about another week, but for now I’m trying to enjoy the not-knowingness.  Farewell expensive but thoroughly accurate digital thermometer.  Goodbye entering the information into a computer program and waiting for the temp. shift. Peace out checking for my ever-elusive cervical mucus which always seemed more Rubber Cement than Egg White.