Why can't weekends be longer? Or more frequent?
Yesterday I spent a leisurely day at the outlets with Nancy talking, shopping, eating. And the pocket of fluid really wasn't noticeable until she pointed it out (don't worry, Nancy, it doesn't look like a goiter at all). It just made me wonder, yet again, why all of this has to be so hard. Nancy's retrieval experience sounds like it was just as horrible (with the same end result of a freeze all) as mine. Why can't it just go smoothly for anyone I know? Seriously.
I spent an hour in the sunshine this morning picking up dog poop remnants from the parts of the yard that don't see the sun much in the winter. Piles of snow sat over the poop for long, frozen months, turning it into some kind of petrified thing that no one would want to encounter. I know this sounds pretty gross, but it was actually a nice morning. I was in the sunshine, by myself, just me, the dogs and the birds. And for once, the neighborhood dogs weren't barking. Which meant Scout wasn't barking. I know this doesn't sound like a big deal, but those of you who know Scout know what a miracle this truly is. A whole hour of peace and poop.
This afternoon was family time. We went with my parents and my grandma to see this exhibit and then went to an early dinner at this restaurant. A good time was had by all and I was home in time to take my 7pm Lu.pron shot. Speaking of Lu.pron...
EB has returned. The beginning of this post makes it sound like it was such a nice weekend. Parts of it were, but Saturday evening, I was a raging bitch. Everything made me FUMING mad. For no apparent reason. I can hear myself, see myself becoming this horrible person I don't like, but I CAN'T HELP IT. It is like my body and mind has been taken over by this alien who's sole purpose in life is to HATE and be ANGRY. It makes me feel so pathetic and hopeless. I loathe this drug. The next couple of weeks are going to be rough.
In case you were wondering, I am still spotting. I spoke with the nurse this morning and she is not concerned. It's a big relief to me. You see, I take my last BCP tomorrow and then I'm supposed to have a period a couple of days later. That is what jump starts the cycle. It prompts the first ultrasound and bloodwork and assuming all goes well, stims. I was worried that after 6 days of spotting, there would be nothing left for a period and we'd be cancelled-starting over. The nurse assured me that I will still likely have a period. It might just be lighter than normal which is fine by me-as long as it comes.
I remember during my first fresh cycle how overwhelming the process seemed. At the time I almost wished I had been through one cycle already so that I would know what to expect. So the shots, appointments, procedures wouldn't be such a big deal to me. In recent weeks I've actually been longing for my early days of IVF where I had no idea how many things could go wrong. Ignorance is bliss, and all that jazz.
The "what ifs" are now what has become overwhelming. What if I spot too much and don't get a period. What if I'm not properly suppressed. What if we don't find the proper dose of stims for my body. What if we don't get enough follicles. What if we get too many follicles. What if I hyperstimulate. What if B's hernia surgery coincides with my retrieval or transfer. What if he is in too much pain to "perform." What if the eggs aren't mature or don't fertilize. What if the embryos don't grow. The what ifs go on and on.
So it seems that no matter which side of this I find myself on, it is not any easier. The beginning was terrifying and the middle is terrifying. I just hope the end makes it all worthwhile.
Worrying is a Good Thing
14 hours ago