The Clomid Made Me Do It

Clomid is a medication that is commonly used in fertility treatments to stimulate ovulation. Serious side effects can include: headache, nausea, abdominal swelling, hot flashes, extreme thirst, violent outbursts or sudden tears, eating everything in your pantry because it was within reach or glaring at your husband with complete disgust and anger simply because he walked in the door.


Those lovely side effects are just a glimpse into what my life has been like for the past month. After my HSG test came back that my tubes were clear as day my doctor decided to turn me into a raging lunatic try a few months of clomid to stimulate ovulation. Even though I have regular periods and my blood work shows that I am ovulating every month she was hoping the clomid would just put my ovaries into overdrive and BAM I’d be pregnant. Well after one month on that demon drug, here I am even crazier and surprise, surprise…. not pregnant.

Let’s back track a little. You take these magical pills on days 5-9 of your cycle. Hopefully the medicine does the trick and your follicles produces a few good quality eggs ready to be fertilized. Doesn’t that sound sexy! (That was sarcasm if you didn’t pick up on it.) So on day 5 of my cycle last month I took that magical little pill first thing in the morning. I was excited and optimistic and positive and bubbly and had faith that this tiny little pill that cost me $4 would magically get me knocked up. Fast forward 24 hours. I wake up on day 6 of my cycle, pop pill number 2 and it was like an instant flip switch. That second pill sent me into a hormone induced rage. I was cynical, rude and hangry (so hungry you’re angry). To sum it up in one word, I was a… B****! And the worst part is, I had absolutely no idea why.

That night my hot husband walked in the door and I hadn’t spoken to him all day which is very unusual for us. I was actually on my way out to take my son to Boy Scouts (an activity his dad always takes him to) because I just assumed he was working late and wouldn’t be home in time. As soon as he walked in the door, I grabbed the keys, passed him without our usual welcome home make out session and headed to the door. He quietly asked, “Where are you going?” I snapped, “Well I’m taking him to scouts since you weren’t home.” He looked at me with shock after my snapping and then I could tell he was choosing his words carefully and replied, “Babe, I was planning on taking him. Why don’t you just stay here and have a glass of wine and I’ll take the kids.” Cue more irrational outbursts from me, “Do you not want me to go?” This went on for a few minutes until I agreed that I would stay home. As he walked out the door he asked if I needed anything. I was annoyed. Seriously! Here my sweet husband is asking me what I needed and getting the kids out of the house so I can have some down time and there I was just in total b**** mode. I just said, “No.” And off they went.

As soon as the front door shut I couldn’t believe my behavior. He didn’t do anything. Not a thing! That was really uncalled for. So I called and said I had no idea what that little episode was about and then it hit me… The Clomid Made Me Do It. I apologized for hating him for no apparent reason 5 minutes ago and then I told him I was dying of thirst and would need him to stop and get me a bunch of Gatorade on his way home. Now, if things were reversed here I think my response would have been something like, “Ha! Get your own damn Gatorade.” I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, my husband is a Saint. He knew I was crazy and hormonal and he laughed at my apology and lovingly said, “of course I will get you a BUNCH of Gatorade.” And he did. Now that’s true love people.

After taking the magic pills for the 5 days Nathan and I, well we um…. got to work. We were under strict doctor’s orders to do the horizontal polka, the no pants dance, roll in the hay, do the deed, hit a home run, get lucky, I think you get the picture. So we did the deed and then we waited. And on New Year’s Eve I decided to take a pregnancy test. I was only on day 27 of my cycle so it was still early but I wanted to find out if I could drink two bottles of wine sober drive or not. So I peed on that tiny dreaded stick and prayed for a freaking miracle. And just like it has every time before that pee stick laughed in my face and shouted (or displayed) NOT PREGNANT.

So I did what I always do, I cried and sent Nathan irrational text messages about how I was being punished and how this was never going to happen for us. He did what he does and calmed me down and talked me off the ledge. Then I had a great text convo with my friend who’s in a similar boat. Because sometimes misery just loves company and she’s always down to have a pity party with me. When I’m in a ‘mood’ sometimes I really don’t need everyone’s positivity. When I’m having my moment and all I want to do is yodel out my best version of LeAnn Rimes “Blue,” I don’t need you telling me to just breathe and think positive. What I need a good friend to do is pass me a damn mic, hold up their lighter or cell phone and convince me that I’m totally the next American Idol. What I need a good friend to do is to come over in their sweatpants with a few bottles of wine and the entire left side of the Chinese food menu so we can binge watch Friends episodes for two days. Now I do have my limits. After my maximum 48 hour pity party is up, if I’m still in those same sweats and haven’t showered for those two full days I give my friends complete approval to stage an intervention. Because after 48 hours, it’s time to put on my big girl pants and move onto the next month.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for all the kind words and positive attitudes most days. But there are just some days when I want people to say, “You’re right! This sucks and is completely unfair. Now let’s drink all the wine in your fridge and eat an entire roll of cookie dough.” Some days I just need to wallow in my misery and that’s ok, because tomorrow is always a new day. And just because I have a bad day, it doesn’t mean I have a bad life.