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Progesterone Results are in.

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My phone rang this afternoon around 2PM. It was Dr. Sparkles’ office calling me with the results of my progesterone test. I picked up IMMEDIATELY of course. Except when I picked up the phone, the nice “nurse” on the other end of the line identified herself as….Dr. Sparkles herself.

This is where my heart sank. A doctor calling with lab results didn’t seem like a good thing. At all.

Me: “Oh God…What the FUCK is wrong with my blood results Dr. Sparkles???!!!!”

(okay, I didn’t really say that. But I was thinking that.)

Let’s start again:

Me: (voice up twenty three octaves) Oh, hiiiiiiii Dr. Sparkles…

DS: Hi Sunny…well…I just wanted to call to let you know your lab results came back in from the progesterone test this morning…

Me: (ohfuckohhfuckohfuck) Yeeeeees?

DS: So, anything above 3 indicates you ovulated, and anything above 10 indicates a good ovulation…

Me: (shitfuckdamnmotherfuckerjustpullthebandaidoffquicklybitch) Mmhmmm??

DS: And I’m happy to report that your levels were at 18! So congrats!! You had a great ovulation this month. I hope that this cycle works like a charm, blahblahblah…

You get the picture.

I hung up the phone and exhaled and flopped into my chair, relieved, yet shaken. Seriously gals, after being *this close* to loosing it over the phone about a freaking progesterone test, I don’t know how you all do it with issues that trump this shitty little test by, like, ten billion ovaries. You have all become my heroes overnight. Not like you weren’t already, but holy god, you women are strong, strong, amazing people. I encourage each and every one of you, regardless of how far you’ve come in this process to look in the mirror and tell yourselves you rock.

Because you do.

And now, back to rocking back and forth and going all Gollum on my uterus.

We wants the egg to implant, my Precious.


No more blood updates!**

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Last night as hubs and I were cursing at the TV in pools of our own sweat (yes, I did Day #1 of Insanity Week, thankyouverymuch!), I began to get pretty bad cramps. My brown spotting turned into dark purplish gross semi-flow, and I wondered if I should still keep popping these progesterone pills for another 4 days.

Then, in the midst of my moving pushups and plyometric knee jumps from hell, an angelic voice rose from the negative OCD brain of mine:

Fuck it. Take your fucking pills, and quit worrying.

Easy as pie.

So, for the next 4 days, you will not hear another word about brown, purple, or even red blood. I know you’re disappointed that you won’t be getting daily updates on the consistency of my vaginal fluids, and trust me: the over sharer in me reeealllly wants to give you the updates, BUT I’m taking my fucking pills, and I’m not worrying. I can’t put my brain through another 4 days of Google searches about “dark purple blood and progesterone”. Unless my uterus falls out. Then I’ll post about that.

** I reserve the right to completely negate this entry and begin obsessing again at any time.