Part 2: Doing the Baby Tango

Having decided that we were going to officially start trying, I read up some more on basal body temperature tracking methods and tricks. I knew to take it before getting out of bed, but I didn't realize how important it was to do so at the same time every day and preferably without even standing up. Determined to get it right this time, I set a daily reminder on my cell phone for 5:30 a.m. I also read up on the recommended frequency for, ahem, doing the baby tango. Although there were mixed reports, it seemed that the general consensus was to do it as much as possible during the 24-48 hours around when I expected to be ovulating. I also learned that the spike in temperature is indicative, not predictive, of ovulation. In other words, we shouldn't wait to see the spike before doing the tango.

At this point in our journey, the tango was still fun. Sure, there were days we were supposed to do it more than others. But in general, it didn't feel regimented and I daresay we were almost giddy about it still. Ignorance is bliss, yes? The first month passed by and AF returned to visit. I was bummed, but not alarmed. I had heard it can take a while for your body to reset, so I just assumed that was what mine was still doing. The second month came and went and... nothing. Well, except for AF of course. I wasn't surprised however, because Paul's schedule had been horrible, timing-wise, that month. He is usually on 24 (hours) and then off for 48. But for whatever reason, that month he had been doing more like 48 on and only 24 off. I was pretty sure we'd missed the window during one of those 48-hour shifts. No big deal.

The third month was May, and incidentally, the month in which we all celebrate motherhood. I don't know if it was because of that or because I was certain we'd managed to time the tango right, but for some reason I had a feeling it had worked. I actually went out and bought pregnancy tests. I had one left over from while I was still on the pill and had a couple of "scares", but I figured I ought to stock up just in case. I don't remember now what was happening that Memorial Day weekend, but I was definitely going to be attending some event where there was a good chance I would be offered a drink. In light of that, I decided to pee on a stick beforehand. It was about 3 days before when I would otherwise expect to get my period, and the instructions said the test was valid for up to T minus 5 days pre-AF.

[Let me pause here for a minute to discuss the logistics of peeing on a stick. The instructions said I should start peeing, put the tip of the stick in the urine stream, and continue peeing for another 20 seconds. Do you have any idea how hard that is? Have you ever tried to control your pee rate so as to stretch it out for a set length of time? The only time I ever pee for 20+ seconds is around 10:00 a.m. when my morning coffee has finally filtered down to my bladder. However, the instructions also said that I should test with my first urine of the day after having neither peed nor taken in any additional fluids for at least 4 hours (i.e. while sleeping overnight). So since my coffee-induced pee was out of the running, I opted for the only feasible alternative: pee in a clean cup and dip the stick in that. Much easier, aside from the tricky moment when you have to maneuver the (mostly full) cup of pee up between your legs and out of the toilet without spilling and/or dipping it into the toilet bowl water.]

So I took the test... I had splurged and gotten the fancy digital kind that gives you a readout on a little screen: PREGNANT or NOT PREGNANT. No fuzzy lines or symbols or holding soggy strips of paper up to the light to interpret. I like things simple and clear. I waited the 3 minutes after, which felt like an eternity, especially with Paul lurking outside the door. I was nervous, and kind of excited. Paul was excited too. Surely this was it! Except it wasn't. :( The screen flashed "NOT PREGNANT" repeatedly. As if I didn't get the message. That was the first month that I cried. Not because I thought it was proof of my infertility but because I had gotten my hopes way up for some reason. I also learned a hard lesson (albeit one that I would have to learn a few more times for it to stick): testing early is a both blessing and a curse. It is a blessing, I suppose, if you aren't trying to conceive and/or don't want to be pregnant. But for me, it was a curse. I knew what was coming (AF) but because I tested early I had to sit around and wait for her to show up. It was a sucky 3 more days.

The months continued to creep by. I read up some more on ovulation prediction methods and decided to ditch the basal body temperature stuff. I could never tell if there was much of a spike anyway, and I was kind of a slacker about waking up to do it on weekends. I read about the cervical mucus method, but wasn't too keen on sticking my fingers up there. Then I remembered one of my friends (who has a daughter) had used digital ovulation kits, so I schlepped off to Walmart and, after a little searching, found some made by the same brand as the pregnancy tests. Holy expensive stuff, Batman! But I reasoned that the sooner I used them and got pregnant, the sooner I would be able to stop using them.

The kit proved to be fairly simple. Starting around day 10, you were supposed to test once a day, preferably with your first urine of the day (similar to the pregnancy tests). With the kit, you got a smiley face that indicated a surge in luteinizing hormone (LH) which indicates that you will ovulate in the next 24-36 hours. Tango time. I was reassured to learn that I was ovulating on a pretty regular basis - always around day 14-15. Before I had gone on the pill back in my teens, I had always had VERY regular periods. So regular, in fact, that I knew to take ibuprofen just before 1st hour in high school so that it would kick in just in time to head off the onset of killer cramps at the start of my period during 3rd hour. I kid you not. I cycled every 28 days exactly. It appeared that this was still true. I thought this was a good sign. If nothing else, it came in handy when planning ahead for Paul's schedule. In addition to being on shift every 3 days, he also works a few shifts a month at the department in our town. Since I could predict exactly when (assuming I wasn't pregnant) AF would arrive each month, we were able to count out days ahead of time and approximate when I would next be ovulating. Based on that, we could work his schedule around tango time whenever possible.

Sometime during the fall months, I was counting the days of my cycle and realized I was on Day 28. No AF. I felt a flicker of excitement. But I decided not to test. After all, I wasn't really late. Yet. Day 29 - still no sign of AF. I finally said something to Paul and he wanted me to test. I was hesitant. The memory of that first negative test was still painfully fresh. At least if I didn't know, then there was still hope. I decided to wait a bit longer. Day 30 arrived and I was jittery with nerves. I didn't FEEL pregnant, but then again, what did I know about what it felt like? Weren't there always those stories about women who never knew they were pregnant until suddenly there was a baby coming out? I couldn't wait any longer, so I tested. Paul was on shift that day. I left the bathroom while the test was processing and paced vigorously for the 3 minutes. I had to really psych myself out to go back in and look.

NOT PREGNANT. But I was on Day 30. And still no AF. I immediately scoured the instructions in the box to determine the rate of false negative. It was small, but there was still a chance. All hope was not lost. Yet. I went about my day, obsessing about every little thing. Was that a twinge I felt? Could that be a sign? Was that leaky feeling the arrival of AF? Were my boobs more sore than usual? Less sore? Needless to say, I didn't get much else done that day. Sometime around 6:00 that evening, AF arrived. That b*tch (pardon my French). I was angry that my cycle had lasted 30 days instead of the usual 28. I was angry that I had been tricked. I was angry that I had caved into testing instead of waiting it out. But mostly, I was angry that I'd gotten my hopes up again.