Three Months: A Short Thanksgiving Story

Last Thanksgiving, I was seriously depressed. Mood and FSH levels are inversely related after all. Despite the dire fertility diagnosis, I was not willing to accept the RE's word that my ovaries were cooked. I was mid cycle and armed with an ovulation prediction kit, Preseed, and the conviction that I would have another baby even if it meant second mortgaging the house and cycling across the country at a high FSH friendly clinic. I was a woman on a mission.

Thanksgiving morning I took food to bleary-eyed friends who had a three-day-old baby. Later, my in-laws spent the day with us which meant I had to sneak off to the bathroom to pee on a stick and then obsess. The lines almost matched which meant I was close to ovulating. Hope! Now if the in-laws would leave already.* After hours of discussing whatever my in-laws discuss** they finally left, we did that which needed to be done, and somewhere over the course of that long weekend we did what seemed impossible: we conceived naturally.

M is three months old today. And I am so grateful.

Happy Thanksgiving.


*Family holidays stress me out, and I was feeling raw and intruded upon. With a possible LH surge, my normal impatience for their departure was somewhat intensified.

**Good God, these people can talk. For hours. About nothing.