I’m coming to the end of my first cycle back on clomid. This is cycle 9(!!) with an 18 month break in between, and over the course of this cycle I’ve come to remember everything I hate about this damn drug. Not to say that it isn’t amazing, of course. But it certainly isn’t an easy option.
I remember wanting to be prescribed it, over 2 years ago. Saying to my husband that I’d like to try, and I know that my face lit up like a child at Christmas during that moment after my consultant said “have you heard of clomiphene?” Why, yes, I certainly have! The wonder drug that you take 5 days a cycle and gives you twins! (I didn’t actually say that, or think that, but it isn’t far from what I actually thought) the prescription was given, after discussing the negatives, one 50mg tablet cycle days 2-6. As luck would have it, it was day 2, so I popped my first that evening an dove straight in.
The following 8 cycles of absolute misery and disappointment were forgotten within 2 cycles of no clomid. I’d come to rely on that as my means to get pregnant, despite the fact that I was ovulating without it. Every appointment I went to after that, I asked for it again. Only recently, after my lap did my consultant bring it up again. And what happened? Face lit up! Permission to take clomid again! And, I’ve just had my lap so I’ve got an even better chance! Cue a stupid amount of hope on those 5 little pills.
I should say here, that my prescription is empiric. I do not have any problems with ovulation, my cycles are always pretty regular. However, my consultant is a firm believer in the studies which have shown it to improve egg quality, which he believes may help us with the history of recurrent miscarriage. So this is my cycle on clomid…
It all sounds wonderful, until you hit a heat wave the second day you take it and you feel like you’re living in a microwave.
The hot flushes are intense. They start in my neck and burn their way into your scalp. The fan is now your best friend. What makes this even more fun, is the headache you have almost constantly whilst taking them, so not only do you have a furnace creeping it’s way up your face but there’s some mad cow banging away pots and pans in your brain.
Speaking of mad cows, I forgot how much of an absolute psychopath it made me. An argument can start because someone didn’t use a coaster. I say argument, I mean ‘the end of all things’ and I say someone, but I mean my husband, or another visitor, but it’s still my poor husband who gets it.
Then there’s the twinges. Your ovaries start to wake up within a few days, and the stabbing pains are more and more frequent. And through the psycho haze you think, perhaps that’s THE ONE. That follicle I can feel growing in me is the one which holds the little egg which’ll become one half of our perfect circle. Our little baby. And you hold onto that thought. And you try, and you try, always hoping that you’ve done enough. Because once you’ve taken the clomid, done the opk’s and had sex when you’re supposed to you can do no more and it’s time to wait.
And the waiting is harder than anything. Somehow, as the two week wait progresses, the psycho who vacated the building 3 days after the last tab is back. This time, she’s not only going crazy at the slightest thing, but she’s urging you to test. Telling you that you did everything right, so you surely must be pregnant.
She’s wrong, and you’re not. So you get out the clomid and you wait for your period to arrive and start all over again.