I thought about putting an inspirational infertility quote here, but instead I'll share that once I got out of a moving vehicle while on Clomid. I was hormonal, enraged and hulking out. I was a lurched animal in a cage.  Once I escaped, I walked for blocks while my husband slowly drove next to me. Eventually I cried it out, calmed down, and finally got back in the car. He never mentioned it again.

Someone get me off this ride before I puke.

To say that I've had an eventful past week would be an understatement. I've been on the ultimate roller coaster ride. I kept trying to get off, but was locked in. Just when I thought it was over, it would go up the hill again.

I use a roller coaster as an analogy for the infertility experience, because that is what I truly feel that it is. In reality, I fucking hate coasters. I am absolutely terrified of them. I don't ride them. Ever.

Since grade school, I have always been the worst partner at amusement parks. I'm the girl that sits and holds everyone's purses. While I watch everyone having a great time, I sit and stuff my face with cheese fries and wish I was more courageous. 

This theoretical roller coaster ride began last Tuesday evening when I started feeling lower back cramps. These lower back cramps quickly moved to front, uterine cramping; the same exact cramps I experience once a month letting me know that bitch Aunt Flow is on her way.

Coupled with these cramps, I started to get a terrible headache, much like the headache I get right before my period. I was sick to my stomach, ill with the idea of another unsuccessful round of IVF.

I went to bed that night with so much anxiety. I put on my meditation, which usually lulls me into a deep sleep, but it did nothing. I wasn't anywhere near mentally present. I didn't hear one thing the woman said. All I kept thinking was, "I'm getting my period. I can not believe this."

I thought about telling Michael what was going on, but I didn't want to worry him. He's just as much of a spaz as me, so together we're just completely out of control. 

I barely slept. I was tossing and turing. I was three days away from my blood pregnancy test and I was about to start my period. I was on 200 mL of progesterone and oil, which is supposed to keep you from getting your period. How could this possibly be happening?

Before I even opened my eyes the next morning, I knew I was bleeding. I went downstairs to the bathroom, peed, wiped, and saw the blood. 

I immediately started to cry. My heart literally fell out of my ass onto the bathroom floor, as a wave of emptiness washed over me. 

After I showered, I broke the news to Michael. For anyone going through this, you know telling your partner is like telling a child there's no Santa Clause. You watch his or her hopeful and trusting face, turn into disappointment and sadness. It's sickening.

I called Magee and talked to one of the nurses. I told her I was only spotting, but I was having a lot of cramping. This is exactly when and how it happened last cycle.

She told me that a lot of women experience spotting and cramping in early pregnancy, so I should continue my progesterone and oil incase it wasn't my period. 

I felt like she had to say that to calm me down. I knew if I were pregnant, I wouldn't be bleeding, but I appreciated her trying to make me feel better.

Michael and I got into an argument over why we thought it didn't work. He said I was too stressed from my flip outs.  I told him he was blaming me and to get out of my face before he witnessed another flip out. 

Shit quickly went sideways and we turned on each other.

He left for work and I continued to cry and stomp around the house. We had decided together that I wouldn't take a premature pregnancy test this time. I PROMISED him that I wouldn't.

Well, all bets were off. I was pissed. And I was going to piss. 

I figured if I took a test and got negative (obviously I was bleeding and cramping), then I'd be mentally prepared for that phone call after my blood test. I peed on the stick, set it down on the bathroom floor, and lets the dogs out. 

I almost forgot I took the test until I saw the wrapper on my dining room table. I grabbed the wrapper so I could put the dumb negative test in it and throw it away. 

As I picked it up off the floor, I almost fell over. The digital screen on the pregnancy test read "YES +".

WHAT? WAIT. WHAT?

I called Michael, shaking and screaming, "I just got a positive pregnancy test! I'm pregnant! Right? Am I pregnant? Wait is it wrong?"

This didn't make sense. I was starting my period. But what if it was right? What if I was pregnant?

I called Magee again. (I harass the poor nurses daily and they are so incredibly patient.) The nurse told me that's a good sign, but I still needed blood work done. I couldn't count on just a urine test. I would have to wait until Friday.

Since when does a positive pregnancy test not mean positive? I was so confused. I don't know anyone else who takes a positive pregnancy test as a "good sign." They were just pregnant.

My girlfriend Christine, who works for a different fertility treatment center and is another angel I harass daily, told me it's because it could be a chemical pregnancy. This means that the embryo implanted, started producing HCG, then stopped dividing. 

It produces just enough to be detected on a urine test, but wouldn't be a viable pregnancy. She said that when I get a blood test, they'll be able to see an actual level of HCG by number. This is the only way to be sure.

So I had two more days to wait. It was like being so incredibly close to something, you can almost touch it, but you can't. 

I decided the only logical thing to do was hit the drug store on the way home from work for some more pregnancy tests. This time I got two different brands. One of them was a digital test that tells you how many weeks you're pregnant. The other was the old school line test. 

I figured if one or both of them were negative, then I could mentally prepare for a chemical pregnancy. Which, by the way, is one step closer to the real deal. If it were to be a chemical, it means that I got pregnant for the first time. Not what I wanted, but another step closer.

I took both tests. Both were positive. I sat at my dining room table, staring at all three positive pregnancy tests in a row. And still, it didn't mean I was definitely pregnant.

All I could do was strap in, because it wasn't time for me get off this bull shit roller coaster. Two days. Two more days of ups and downs. I could do it. 

Why couldn't this experience be like a ride I'll voluntarily get on; like the swings or the merry-go-round?

All of those years I thought I was avoiding a fear. Little did I know that the big daddy of roller coasters would be waiting for me in my future. This one had all the thrills; needles, internal ultrasounds, and a shit ton of of ups and downs. 

"I think you have the wrong number."

Tick...tick... tick...BOOM