Last night what had been threatening to happen for nearly five days happened. Sigh. Its ironic that I used to be so relieved to get my period, back when I didn't want to be pregnant. All that anxiety for nothing, no to mention the money I was evidently wasting on birth control.
Even though I had plenty of warning, I always find myself holding out a little bit of hope, right up until the bitter end. If there's no blood you can always let yourself believe that this month it might have worked. Sadly its now plainly evident that it did not.
Warren and I talked about it last night. Of course, during out talk his mom called wanting to know if we had any news. I'm glad he was the one who talked to her. She's a bit pushy about wanting us to give her another grandchild, even though she already has two. My parents are much better about it, even though they don't have any yet. They realize that at this point I'm doing everything I can on that front, and pestering me for news is just likely to be annoying. My parents are really great that way.
Warren and I are pretty much of one mind. We both think the issue is clearly my luteal phase, and we both think the fertility specialist is a dipshit for giving me a perscription for Clomid instead of progesterone suppliments. Warren wishes he could go to my regular physical with my primary doctor so we could talk to her about it. She's smart and competant, and she suggested luteal phase defect when she gave me the original referal back in December.
My plan of attack is to go and call in for my final Clomid refill on the theory that it can't hurt (aside from the four day headache, that is), and make my followup appointment with Dr. Dipshit. I also have my annual physical with my regular doctor scheduled for Monday, and I fulling intend to complain to her about Dr. Dipshit. Maybe she can perscribe me some progesterone suppliments on her own, or give Dr. Dipshit a call.