I am notoriously indecisive. I hate admitting that because it sounds timid and stupid, but it’s always been true. I am a classic overanalyzer. To give a small example, I always feel really good about my purchases while still in a store and then immediately feel the need return half of what I buy the instant I leave. To give a bigger example: this unease with decision-making has only gotten worse, as two years ago, I took a huge leap, went to grad school and am now approximately 100% convinced I will never use the degree I’ve almost completed. How can I trust myself with huge decisions knowing how well (read: not good) that last huge decision turned out?
The only major life decision I’ve made in my twenties that I remain fully committed to two years later is getting married to my fabulous husband. Everything else, specifically everything career-related, is still up for debate.
This is exactly why committing to “actively trying” is terrifying. Sure, I’ve been off the pill since May and we haven’t been using any protection, so for all intents and purposes, we’ve been trying for nearly four months (although I’ve only gotten one period in that time and it was a product of Provera). Nevertheless, I started this process totally okay with letting fate step in a little bit – I didn’t track ovulation or chart temperatures because that would imply we were really doing this and, as deciding to have a child is the biggest decision one can make, I was a little panicked. I spent a lot of time thinking, “Please, Universe, we are ready to have a baby. Do the heavy lifting and decide when.”
However, that was then. After four months of negative pregnancy tests and continued wonky cycles (which are perhaps even more discouraging than the negative results), I am ready to commit to this process, in whatever way that means for us.
I called my doctor yesterday and discussed the “no period and yet no pregnancy” issue with her. She suggested I refill the Provera prescription, stimulate another period and then take a round of Clomid to stimulate ovulation. If I’m not pregnant next month, we can reevaluate at my next appointment on October 1st.
Using Clomid makes this real. If you’re taking a drug that is essentially the kid brother to other fertility treatments, you are committing to this. You can start a blog, talk about it with your pregnant friends ad nauseam, really, really desperately want it and worry incessantly about your inability to do it, but you aren’t truly doing something about it until you start taking drugs to make it happen. And here I am, ready to charge into the pharmacy this morning and get my Provera (or, rather, my generic Medroxyprogesterone, because I am cheap).
I have decided.