Well, I guess I’ll just cut to the chase.
19 weeks, 76 shots, five pregnant days back in March – but no baby.
Sorry, Salties, but I’m not pregnant. Definitely not pregnant.
I’ve had so many thoughts, so many ruminations, so many emotions over the past week, and yet this post just isn’t working out to be one of my more emotional ones. I had thought, a week or so back, that I was going to be okay either way. I had thought, really thought, that even if it didn’t work out, I had just reached a point where I was so ready for a break from the drugs, from the routine, from being an infertile. That I was ready to dive into training and run a race that’s very special to me, and figure out the rest later.
Until, of course, I was a single day late. Well, even before that. When the cramps started a couple days out, I realized I was trying to pretend that they weren’t there. Or that maybe, just maybe, they were implantation cramps. Or telling myself that it’s totally normal to have cramps early in pregnancy. And then I was that single day late, and I realized (again) how much I wanted to be – you know – a mom.
And when the game ended – standing in the security line at the airport no less – I was shocked at how quickly the tears started flowing.
DB and I are doing okay, and we have tons to look forward to in the next several months. We’re so excited for Badwater, for Burning River, for a few other adventures we’re thinking about, but it’s certainly not without a tinge of sadness. I’m working on explaining more (as it relates to my running and my future running plans) – but it’s just not coming right now.
Saturday, June 15: OFF. Crewing at Mohican 50/100 – I had an AWESOME time, and even got to make the Ramen!!! Done with the Prometrium, now just waiting.
Sunday, June 16: Solo 15 through the neighborhood, took it extremely easy as we were still waiting. No symptoms, but hopeful.
Monday, June 17: 8 rare Monday miles due to wacky travel schedule and an evening meeting that meant skipping spin classes.
Tuesday, June 18: 8 early morning miles with the neighborhood crew followed by Pilates/core class. Afternoon spin class. Getting crampy, trying to ignore it.
Wednesday, June 19: 8 early morning miles with the neighborhood crew. Technically due today, but no period or sign of period except for cramps, which I am ignoring.
Thursday, June 20: Single hour on the elliptical. Will explain in my next post. Yeah, it happened. In the security line at the airport; I was headed out to Duluth for work (Grandma’s Marathon.) But it started really, really slow. Slow enough for me to say – Wait! Maybe it IS just spotting or implantation bleeding. Until about 6 pm that evening, when I was working at the Expo, and it decided to treat me like a high school girl and just obliterate me out of nowhere. So. Embarrassing.
I decided that I absolutely deserved to have nothing but wine and dessert for dinner. DB was back in Columbus due to an evening board meeting and wasn’t getting to Duluth until Friday morning. I called room service for desserts and wine and almost starting feeling better – until the cramps woke me up at 1 am. Except they weren’t cramps. It literally felt as if someone had wrapped their fist around my uterus and was attempting to PULL IT OUT OF ME. As a matter of fact, it was so bad that I a) couldn’t even move enough to get out of bed and get to the ibuprofen and b) began considering under what circumstances I would decide to get myself to the hospital, and how. After five ibuprofen over the course of six hours the pain finally abated, but by then the thunderstorms (with lightening) were going full blast, and no matter how much ibuprofen I took, I couldn’t seem to make the thunder stop. It was a long, painful and dark night.
Friday, June 21: 3 easy miles on the treadmill. The team usually does a short run together the morning before the race, but it was still pouring buckets outside. Normally I would suck it up and splash, but the attack of the killer cramps was ongoing, and between my emotional and physical states, I just felt like I owed myself one. (Dessert, wine, chickening out on a rain run – at least I know how to take care of myself :) DB arrived later in the day and just in time; my stomach was still tied in knots, and I was actually exhausted from the pain. A friend on the team showed up early at the Expo and sent me back to bed, where I stayed until my actual shift later in the evening. Nothing seemed to “right” things that day – coffee, water, Gatorade, soup, ibuprofen, etc. Was hoping to get some extra miles in the next day, even though I was only scheduled to pace the half (just in case, of course) – but wasn’t feeling entirely optimistic.
Weekly totals: 42 miles, 1 hour of spinning, 1 hour on the elliptical. So … this will be my last training log on the main page; as I am transitioning back to training for 100’s, I hope you’ll continue to follow that journey there. Whether you’ve been reading this and offering support or following more quietly – thank you for being there. I truly hope, if nothing else, that one of these days, some frustrated woman out there will Google “running” and “infertility” and at least find validation for her hopes, frustrations, and challenges. I don’t believe our story is over yet; I just believe that the drug part of it is over.
For now, I’m looking ahead to Burning River. With an abbreviated training period, I’m not expecting a banner performance, but I’m still confident that I can run a strong race. From there, I’ll likely gear up for Rocky Raccoon again, but I’m not rushing the decisions right now. DB and I are going to fully enjoy and embrace our time at Badwater and Burning River, and not only take a few months away from the drugs, but a few months away from decisions and “next steps.” We’re just going to sit it in right now, the good and the sad, but with joy and gratitude. We have a beautiful, exciting, ADVENTUROUS life – and more importantly, we have a deep and abiding love and daily gratitude for each other, our health, and all of the amazing opportunities we have in our lives each and every day. Am I Pollyanna? No. Hell no. This HURTS. But if this is the worst of the trials that DB and I face, then we are blessed beyond measure. And I would rather live blessed.