Preheating the Oven

BBT, short for Basal Body Temperature, is the lowest temperature attained by the body during rest. It is recorded immediately after being awakened before any physical activity has been undertaken. Before you so much as sit up, or talk. And so there sits a Basal thermometer on my night stand, easily accessible, used every morning at 6am as soon as my mind registers that I am awake. It's part of my morning routine now, I roll over ever so slowly, and lie perfectly still as it records my temperature, all while the antagonizing alarm spews forth it's wretched sound. I want to shut the darn thing off, club it to death even, only I can't. I can't move yet, not until the beeping of the thermometer sounds. Dear Boyfriend doesn't seem to mind, I dare say it's part of his routine now to, be awakened before his time, listen to the alarm blare while I do my thing, knowing not to utter the words, "Good morning," or "I love you," because I cannot return the sentiment yet.

Some of you may know all about the abc's of BBT, and to those that do not, let me explain, it's rather fascinating.(Or perhaps I just fascinate way too easily) From the first day of your period it is known as the follicular phase of your cycle, when estrogen dominates. Then once ovulation has occurred, you've entered your leutal phase where progesterone is now leading the hormonal tango, until your new cycle begins. Then cue a rise in estrogen, and let the bi-polar woman begin again. While on topic, and come to think of it, men have no right to complain about our mood swings, and all that jazz. We have a legit reasons when you consider the changes our bodies have to go through over and over again, month after month. It's exhausting just thinking about it, isn't it? I do believe we've earned our God given right to be a irritable, weepy, bitch. Wear that badge with pride ladies. We are woman, here us...moan in pain with cramps?? Pfft, roaring is for the lions anyways.

Where was I, oh yes, back to the point...So what does all this have to do with recording your temperature you may ask? From the first day of your period if you start consistently recording your basal body temperature, and charting it every day on a graph, you'll notice dips and spikes by month's end. Too small to feel physically, but they are there, and have hidden signs. Your temperature should remain low, on average in the low 97 degrees Fahrenheit. After ovulation it should spike to the higher 97 degree Fahrenheit, and up into the 98's degree Fahrenheit. And there it should consistently remain higher until it takes a huge dip, usually right before, or on the day of your period. Every woman is different, and temperatures will vary. Another fascinating thing about this, is that your BBT can indicate pregnancy. If your temperature remains spiked for over 15+ days, it's usually a sure sign that there's a bun in that oven.

I do not have yet a regular cycle established, but once I began my acupuncture, and treatments by the Naturopath, I started charting from my first period, looking a regular pattern, and for those hidden signs. Namely, looking for that temperature spike that signifies ovulation has occurred. The only catch is, your spike will happen around two days after your ovulation has occurred, not when ovulation is at it's peak. But hey, at this point, just for proof that it has occured is enough for me, and it is a very good sign, especially seeing as I had amenorrhea, and was anovulatory. If say, I had a regular, by the book, 28 day cycle, after a few months of charting, I could see and predict that exact day I would ovulate and release that egg, and know when that small fertility window was opened. Do you all feel schooled on the subject now? Good.

Now, I've been charting and graphing now for 3 months, and am still hoping for that regular pattern to show. Months may turn into years before I see anything remotely consistent, if ever I fear. I was going into my 5th week of my cycle, and it was looking like a dud. My baseline temperature was sitting at 96.8 - 97.2 degrees Fahrenheit, every morning, morning after morning since the first day of my last period, May 11th. I felt nothing, so signs of a pending period, no physical signs of ovulation, or post-ovulation for that matter. I can't lie, this evidence depressed me, and I cried about it many days due to being so frustrated with my own body. It's my body, but yet I feel like a stranger in it. I have no control over it, it control me, I just have to go along for the ride. I cannot will it to do anything, I cannot demand it. I try and persuade it, as opposed to unnaturally manipulating it, but it doesn't seem to even appreciate my efforts. Stubborn body. Stubborn Ruthie. Perhaps I'm too impatient? It's true, when I want things, I do want them to happen yesterday.

It was all too much for me, I was gonna break, so I came home from work one day last week, and got straight into bed. And I cried - You know, that homely cry that you want no one else ever to witness? Where the sounds of an animal dying escapes your lips? Where your nose is dripping, and your head is so stopped up it might explode from lack of oxygen? - I cried myself to sleep, praying to God out of desperation, while cursing my body. I always said I wanted to be a better person, not a bitter one, but I'm bitter. Bitter about all this. A part of me is bitter towards God. Hey, don't judge me, God says not to! I questioned God why He'd let this happen. How he could do this to me when He's always know how I've wanted children more than anything. How it was the only thing I've ever asked for out of this life that I've been forced to live. How he could bless people with children day after day, when they are not wanted. The world if full of people raising other people's children, people abusing their children, ignoring them. Drug addicts giving birth to drug addicted babies. People using their children solely as a means for government income. They should be shamed of themselves! Fie on you! You wouldn't know a blessing if it hit you in the face! So why, God, WHY? Why did you have to make it so hard for me? Am I being punished for something? It's a question I can only hope will make sense one day. That I will have my answer. That one day I will understand the reasoning.

Three days later I was crampy. Four days later something happened, and it happened at 6am, my temperature spiked. Could I have ovulated and not realized it? Was I so preoccupied with worrying about no ovulation, that I missed it? If I did in fact ovulate, it would have put my peak day around June 9th, which just so happens to be my birthday. (This is the part when you all smile with me) Could the anniversary of my own birth been blessed with the beginning of an other's life?

Riddle me this, had my oven been preheated, or was it just a glitch in my thermostat?

Fantasy vs. Reality

This morning I'm feeling the ache. Like a weight on my chest, making it hard to breathe. An ache of the heart. I swallow, but the lump doesn't dispense, it only grows. I try and think about something else...anything, but for some reason my mind is inanimate, and holds fast, refusing to allow any other thought to penetrate it's hemispheres. I groan, but no sound escapes, I cry, but no tears fall. I'm drowning in this ache, this emptiness, like I'm missing something. Something is missing.

How is it possible to love a child so much that has yet to have life? And yet I do. I love this unconceived child with everything within me. I find myself letting go of reality for a period of time, imagining he or she. How can I not when even my unconscious dreams possess images of this tiny new life? I awake from those dreams reluctant to let go of that place, I am content there, I can breathe there. This nightmare only exists when I'm awake.

I can imagine everything. I close my eyes and slip into a place in my mind that is safe. Nobody can find me there, it's my secret. My favorite place to reside. I feel whole there, never feel that gaping void......

I'm not feeling quite myself...just off. Is it possible? With shaky hands, I'd pee on that stick. It's Positive. I'm in disbelief. I take two more tests. They're all positive.

He comes home from and says I'm glowing. Does he know already? Maybe it's just because I'm beaming. I tell him in the way I've planned. He didn't suspect a thing. I watch his face register shock, then realization, then there it is...now he's beaming. This is a great moment.

I'm at the doctor's office, we're excited. I've got butterflies fluttering in my tummy, their wings snapping, synchronizing with my rapid pulse. With baited breath we wait for it, the sign of life, a heartbeat. This finally feels real now. I laugh and compare it to a galloping horse.

I look at the clock, he's late, he's supposed to meet me here. He had to take the afternoon off. I know he wouldn't miss it. They call my name, and as I start to rise, I feel him take my hand, and hurriedly kiss me, out of breathe. He's anxious, too.

There's a cold sensation, and then a lot of pressure from the probe. If they press any harder there's going to be a clean up on aisle gurney. I'm bursting from all the water I was told to drink to get a better picture from the ultrasound. I push the urge to the back of my mind, focusing on the monitor. My eyes cannot leave the screen, I can see nothing else, I'm in awe. They ask if we want to know the sex. We do not, it's one of life's far precious few surprises.

I am slightly round with child, my hand lovingly placed over the swell of my abdomen. I feel a flutter...a rippling effect, then a small tap - or at least that's how I imagine it to be - and it has finally happened. That first tiny kick. I am ecstatic.

I experience a tightening of my skin, it's stretched beyond it's limit. I'm swollen, tired, and can't hardly bend over. None of this matters.

Is it time? A stabbing pain grips me. We time the pains. It is time!

I'm restless and exhausted. I can't take this no more. I start to question why I had wanted this...was I crazy? No. I focus, keeping my mind on the end result. I draw the strength I need, I press on.

I wait for it, holding my own breath, and then it happens. I hear that first wail, that, lungs-cleared, ear-piercing squawk flooding my ears. It's the most beautiful sound in the world. No choir or world-renowned orchestra could compare.

Love cannot be measured, has not a capacity, a volume, or mass, but yet I'm cradling love in my arms. I look down, and am so overwhelmed by the waves of emotion that I feel. I am now drowning in my own tears.

Weak eyes struggle against the light of this new world, trying to focus on my face. "Hello there," we'd both say without a physical word spoken. "I've been waiting for you."

I am no longer empty. I am complete. My soul yearns no more. Everything has lead up to this moment. I am thankful. I've been blessed...

Reality is a real bitch, isn't it?