A kick in the teeth and a reprieve

First, thank you to each of you who commented on the last post. You have no idea how much it comforted me and gave me the strength to keep going and not burst into giant racking sobs.

What is more upsetting than starting to bleed again at 10 DPO while on progesterone supplementation to prevent this from happening? How about as soon as you walk downstairs from the bathroom to tell your crestfallen husband - he hands you the mail for the day, and in it you find an $800 bill from the R.E.'s office, and a letter from your insurance carrier saying that they will cover $9.00 of it? To be honest, in some ways I'd be less pissed if they had just decided not to pay for any of it.

On Friday, at first it was just light pinkish spotting, internal only. Then Saturday it progressed to red. Then it went away for awhile, then brown sludgy... then nothing. Then Saturday night it progressed to the point where I thought my period was here in full force. Sunday morning it had tapered off again. Sunday night, it was back to the point that I thought my period was here, so I gave up on panty liners and decided to finally use a tampon.

Poor Michael tried his best to comfort me. He kept telling me that he loved me no matter what, and that if we never had a child he would never love me less and stroked my face and held me tight while I cried. Poor thing, it just made me cry harder, but I know he was trying to help. I told him I was going to quit taking the progesterone and break out a bottle of the wine we bought in the Loire Valley, and he beseeched me not too - to keep going and not throw the towel in just yet.

So I decided to make some fudge to cheer me up (and by cheer me up I mean drown my sorrow in chocolate and sugar and butter), and the damn fudge never set up properly. It's too runny. Don't think that didn't stop me from eating it with a spoon this morning for breakfast though. Not the entire tray of it, but I must say I did a rather impressive job obliterating a huge corner of it.

This morning, I went to change out the tampon - and I'll be damned, but the bleeding had stopped. Completely. None at all. I was shaking when I crawled back into bed and Michael leaned over and asked if it was that bad. I don't know. I said. It's - well it's gone. It's stopped. Well, that's good he said. Isn't it?

I don't know. I said. I just don't know. I want closure.

I'm not hopeful, as it's just not in my nature. But I'm not sure that I'm not either.

It's a rather precarious position to be in.

The R.E.'s office just called, and my progesterone on Friday - the day that the bleeding first started was 33.9. The nurse said to keep up with the progesterone until the beta on Wed.

Wednesday is so incredibly far away.

Oh, and because I overstimmed this cycle, she told me that I'm basically guaranteed to sit out a cycle, so the fact that I've now reached my deductible for my insurance, and could cycle for free is kind of irrelevant.

Well, so much for that sliver of hope. Full flood.

Fucking fuck.