Wednesday, July 27, 2016


I woke Monday morning to blood on the toilet paper. Bright red blood, that continued in small doses throughout the day.

Bleeding is not supposed to be a part of taking estrogen. I called the clinic and they asked me to come in Tuesday morning for an extra ultrasound. The one nurse I cannot stand called me back to relay the news that my cycle may or may not be cancelled based on the results. She then added that even though the estrogen is supposed to block the ovaries from creating mature eggs and ovulating, sometimes the body just wants to ovulate anyways.

I couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of this theory. To the best of my knowledge, I have NEVER ovulated on my own without copious amounts of medication. My ovaries have no intention of ever growing any eggs, let alone attempting to ovulate them. It enjoys collecting many tiny little possibility of eggs and then hoarding them like an overcrowded bedroom on TLC (seriously, have you ever seen a PCOS ovary? There's no room to breath in there, let alone grow!).

Then again, the irony of this would also fit with how I conceptualize my reproductive body parts: obstinate and uncooperative. If my uterus and ovaries were people, they would be the disgruntled adolescents who spitefully do the opposite of what they think their parents may want.

On Tuesday I arrived for my bonus ultrasound. My lining looked okay and so did my estrogen level. Okay. As a perfectionist, I can't say I'm thrilled with this result. We are moving forward. As if this never happened and without a clear explanation. My real baseline ultrasound will be on Friday and then a likely transfer date. Assuming that my body can follow directions without any more ruckus.

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