Last week I had a very vivid dream about bleeding. I have them from time to time: such an endearing echo of baby loss trauma. In this one I began bleeding thick gloopy bright red blood. It filled a pad, it was on my hands and smeared on my top. I asked my Mum again and again and again if it was normal. I showed her my hands but she had no answers for me. The dream scared me awake.
Two days after my dream my period started. On CD 15. Not ovulation spotting but proper bleeding.
My last period was 5 days late, light, long and drawn out.
If my period had stayed as advertised, and I had been pregnant this month my due date would have been George's day. I rather liked the symmetry of that. If. If. If. I hate that I torture myself like this.
I was afraid that the bleeding would get heavier and heavier but, oh thank goodness, it's getting lighter now.
I saw Dr Compassion yesterday and he thinks it's most likely my age but it might be a blip caused by the stress of worrying about Ray's pooposcopy. He took some blood to see if there are any hormones left and also to check for pregnancy. No, no, I really really really don't think I am.
I don't think I have ovulated in the last two months: not even a hint of a line on an ovulation test. I'd like to hope that my body is just taking a break and resetting itself but I have so little hope left and it's stretched so thin that I don't dare. But once again, I don't dare think of the alternatives.
Hopefully my hormones aren't broken yet: just bent out of shape a bit.