Monday brought the physical signs of ovulation, including a temperature dip, insatiable thirst, increased libido, decreased appetite, nausea, mittelschmirtz, and the customary watery cervical fluid.
Tuesday’s temp was up 0.44º and all other symptoms — including CF — had vanished, so I was pretty sure I ovulated the day before.
Wednesday brought a surprise: my temperature dropped to 97.14, the lowest it’s been all cycle. It threw me into a small panic because if I’d got my O day wrong, that meant all the BDing could be way off too. I started searching for a “post-ovulation temperature dip” which yielded information about the coveted implantation dip, or triphasic patterns. I couldn’t find anything about a temperature dip on 2DPO, so I turned to Twitter. I’m so glad I did!
The lovely Josey gave me an excellent link which improved my TTC vocabulary: fallback thermal shift. This corroborates what I feel to be true — that I ovulated Monday, which would up the chances of conceiving this month. I guess it’s too soon to tell — tomorrow or Saturday’s temperature/s will confirm either way — but I am so relieved to learn that one’s temperature can fall at 2DPO and it doesn’t mean anything either way.
And my boobs, usually not tender or even erogenous in the slightest, are sore today. The only time that has ever happened was when I was pregnant. I’m cautiously optimistic that I might be pregnant again — but I’m not getting my hopes up.
I’ve been in a better mood this week. A lot of grief left my system last week, so I’m feeling a bit more normal. (I want to post more often when I’m feeling good!) I’m better at pushing away fears and worries with a firm but gentle Is this thought helpful right now? It was P-SIL’s birthday on Tuesday. I felt so normal that I probably could have gone to dinner with her — but, as I said to DH, why spoil my good mood with a potential (and known!) trigger? I’d rather stay at home and enjoy feeling like me while it lasts. I’m cautiously optimistic that I might be able to visit P-SIL in the hospital when her time comes — but I reserve the right to change my mind.
On Tuesday, I briefly cried in therapy. I told my lovely therapist, M., that I feel like I’ve lost so much. Not just my tiny baby, but also my innocence, my faith in my body, and trusting I will be able to conceive and carry to term. I’m reluctant to visit my mom in Spain because if I go without DH around the time of ovulation, then that’s a missed opportunity. I’ve lost spontaneity. I’ve missed out on new friendships. I’ve lost part of myself and it’s really hard to go back to the time when I didn’t have to think about miscarrying and grief triggers, and how to avoid them. M. reminded me that I am more than just a person who ovulates. And I am thankful that I, in fact, ovulate. There are so many women who don’t. I keep reminding myself of what I said to someone on Twitter the other day: Miscarriage has shaped me, but it doesn’t define me. I’m cautiously optimistic that I can keep remembering that.