Finally.

Thank God. After a 58 day anovulatory cycle with progesterone and two days of spotting, I finally got my period this afternoon. Never have I been so excited to move on to the next cycle. This cycle has felt "over" for weeks.

With my upcoming ob/gyn appointment, I wondered if she might order CD3 bloodwork, as I'm concerned about PCOS. If she ordered this at the appointment on Monday, I realized that if next cycle goes like this one did, I may not be back to CD3 for months... I called the office and expressed this concern to my nurse who promised that they wouldn't let me go almost 60 days without a period again-- they'd put me on progesterone much earlier next cycle, if needed. Also, there's some baseline bloodwork that can still be done on CD7. She said, "Go ahead and come in on Monday and bring all of your charts and any data you've collected and we'll make a plan at your infertility workup."

"Your infertility workup."

:::silence:::

The words hit me like a slap in the face.

Yes, I'm happy to be moving forward with this appointment. Yes, I'm eager to find out if there's something preventing us from getting pregnant or whether it's just been bad luck. Yes, I think that PCOS is a real possibility. No, I'm not ready to think of myself as infertile.

No one called me infertile. I get that. But it's the first time that word has been used in reference to a possibility about us and it scares me. It really scares me. I'm feeling the weight of the reality of this appointment now-- we're past the halfway mark in what's considered a "normal" time to conceive and we know that my body isn't cooperating. While some might be able to see the glass as half full and realize that we have 5 more months of trying before we're officially branded with the label of infertility (unless these test results find something sooner), 7 months of disappointment are heavy on my heart and I feel discouraged. What I believed would be a beautiful journey into parenthood has turned into a stressful struggle.

And I'm scared.