I feel like I go through an emotional cycle that matches, play-by-play, each IUI cycle. Just pull that wind-up string and off I go. Beginning each cycle with an AF driven depression, eating everything that does not eat me. Then moving to apathy, honey badger don’t care. And then sneakily there is that little bit of hope. A little gold glimmer that stubbornly refuses to be completely beaten down. I really want to hold onto that resilient front, the one that protects me from the hurt. Protects me from getting too upset with the continually amount of money that is rolling out of our bank accounts and into the black hole that is IF.
But here we are. The glimmer is a-growing.
I get the pleasure of the 11 day ultrasound tomorrow morning. I have yet to have my vehicle oil changed which at this point concerns me more than what the ultrasound might show. I really just want one good follicle, after all. Then I am going to pick-up the ovidrel from work, pick-up more prenatals, and get that bloody oil changed. Hopefully I will get to trigger tomorrow. I say hopefully very unwillingly though because that injection makes my ovaries blow up like the 4th of July. It’s exactly as fun as it sounds.
Then I will go back to work wishing I could have hit the surgery suite first thing in the morning. And pray for every distraction possible in the next 2ish weeks. Every single distraction in the world. I almost wish we could have traveling to Vegas now although I would have missed out on delicious beers.
But no mater how much I worry and fret and stalk the internet for early signs, life happens. What I do to stress myself out will absolutely not change that, it will mostly just make me miserable. Deep breath. In and out. Life will work out the way that it should. As it always has.