I’ve been charting my basal body temperature for over year and a half now. I have to admit that I was utterly flummoxed by the whole charting thing before I got started, but now it’s something I spend five minutes (or less) on every day. It’s as easy as … well, I was going to say pie, but it’s really much easier than that.
I keep a thermometer by my bed, pop it in my mouth as soon as I wake up in the morning, and record it in this handy-dandy (to quote liberally from “Blue’s Clues”) notebook, and voila! When I see a clear temperature shift on my chart, I know I’ve finally ovulated. At least that’s how it usually works.
My charts were proper, near-exemplary ovulatory charts every month… until the laparoscopy I had last cycle.
Following surgery, I had a cycle with no ovulation – the first one I’ve had as far as I know. And this cycle, my first post-op, my temperature is all over the place.
The “notebook” I use to track my temperature and other fertility signs is actually a website, www.fertilityfriend.com. (You can sign up for free, but to get the extras that save my so-called sanity I pay $16.95 every three months. There’s a charting tutorial, there are experts who will respond to your questions within a matter of hours and there are message boards where you can talk to people in situations similar to your own … let’s just say I’ve gotten my money’s worth and leave it at that.)
Anyway, when I plugged in my temperature today, Fertility Friend changed my ovulation day – again (I’m telling you, people, for the last year and a half, Fertility Friend has told me every cycle that x was my ovulation day and, by golly, x it stayed.). AND it told me that today’s temperature drop and the spotting I’ve been having last night and this morning could be implantation-related.
I’m not buying into that hooey. Or … wait, am I? Nooooo. I’m not going to get my hopes up this time.
At least I’m trying not to. Everyone who’s hoping to conceive feels the same pee-on-a-stick urge that I do, true? Any time there is the slightest possibility – no matter how remote – that you might finally be pregnant, you think about the woman-who-tried-and-tried-to-have-a-baby-and-then- lost-hope-and-stopped-worrying-about-it-only-to-get-that-surprise second-line-on-a-pregnancy-test. You’ve all heard of her, no? (If I had a nickel for every pregnancy test I’ve wasted because of her I would be rich (although still infertile), yessiree.
Deep down, I know this cycle is going to be a bust just like all the others in the past forever and a half have. And I refuse to set myself up for disappointment. No matter what my fertility friends say. But maybe I’ll buy a test just to prove them wrong. (That’s rationalization for ya …)