Hey hey, I see people have been checking in but I haven’t really had much to say. I had a horrific cold/cough/sore throat which put a damper on my supplements as I couldn’t really swallow. But I’m back on the regime and I’m still not 100% sure but I’m keeping on track so my options are open.
In the meantime, I’m starting a new blog. I have realized I need to spend some time focusing on being a Mom and not just trying to be a Mom. So if you feel like getting to know that part of my life better, skip on over to mommydo and have a look. I’m still filling content and working on some things. I haven’t spread the word there’s anything there. It feels a little light – but I suppose after baring my soul here for almost 3 years, recipes and sewing projects would seem a little light.
I’ll still be posting here from time to time. But as this in-between plods along there might be more there than here.
Hope everyone else is well.
If you have a moment, drop on over to see Mo @ Mommyodyssy. She recently lost her boy Nadav at 23 weeks.
Gotta go take some more vits.
So those 2 little guys are still truckin’ along. Quality seems to be good – though they don’t seem to have an official ‘grade’ this early. They’re noted to be 1-2 grade (one being the best). We’ll know tomorrow once we arrive for the transfer if they’re still viable.
If anybody reading has any insight on day 3 vs day 5 transfer, I’d be interested to hear it.
Otherwise, I’ll report back tomorrow.
I have an overwhelming sense of sadness with every step in this cycle knowing that once it’s done, it’s done. Bottom of the ninth, down by 2. Two out. Bases empty. The other team has last at bat. Pack up the clothes. List gear on crai$#ist. Clear away all the little baby things.
But today is not that day. We’re not out of the game yet. We retrieved 3 eggs today. Three. The RE gave us some positive examples. He’s not ready to call it a day. But he also said, when he came to check on me and found me sitting silently with tears streaming down my face, that we don’t know what we don’t know. It’s one day at a time. We just have to wait and see. And it only takes one.
It only takes one and we have three. Which is my favourite number. My hockey number. My lucky number. And 2 more than 1.
So it’s not over yet.
Here we are again. At the brink. Just got the call saying we will trigger tonight. There are 3 eggs that look good and we’re not going to take any chances of losing those. We’re a day earlier than planned and 2 days earlier than previous cycles.
I’m having a really hard time mustering up any joy for the upcoming retrieval. And I don’t believe in my heart of hearts there will be a transfer.
I haven’t been here before. I’ve been nervous. Cautiously optimistic. Hopeful?
Now I feel like I’m just finishing something because I started it. Can’t leave a book half read or a bed half made.
I’m chest crushingly sad that things aren’t looking better and that I can’t seem to find the bright side.
I realize it only takes one. And three is 2 more than that.
I know it. I just don’t feel it.
I actually felt kind of nauseous when I was prepping for injections #1 and 2 – in a seriously? I’m here again? kind of way.
After IVF #1 I swore I didn’t have it in me to do it again.
Then, the desire to grow the family was greater than my dread.
So we gave it another go – insisting “this is it” – the end.
Then, well, I couldn’t just leave it where we ended up.
So, here we are. Again.
The reality of it seemed to hit home the hardest when I was cooking up a batch of Luveris in the kitchen, preparing to give myself the first jab. Then the Gonal-F. Then the cleaning up of the crack house debris.
I wonder if people who make babies with sex (novel thought) instill the same sense of importance to the first thrust? I doubt it. They’re probably thinking about whether they look fat. Or if the other person is as into it. Or something. They probably think it’s fun – making a baby. They probably don’t feel nauseous. Unless they had one too many glasses of Chardonnay.
They’re probably not thinking about anything at all.
But that would mean they’re also not thinking about how this exact moment could be the start of a chain of events that changes everything.
Which is what I needed to do to get through. Because a part of me keeps thinking “we weren’t supposed to be here. We were happy. It was supposed to be ok.”
Sure, it wasn’t ok. But I need to remember that doesn’t mean it won’t be this time.
I need to think about whether these bruises make me look fat. Or if I look hot holding a syringe. I need to think about nothing at all.
I need to think that this could be the start of something that changes everything.
In a good way.