I don't like Wednesdays.

Reasons:

1) Wednesdays are what's referred to in my organization as "core day". That means you don't schedule any meetings outside the building, which guarantees that your day will be studded with meetings inside the building. Today I had meetings from 8:30-10, 10-11:15, 12:30-2 and 2-3:30.

2) Because I have a short attention span and most of these meetings are very, very boring, traditionally this has been the time during which I jot tiny calendars in the margins of my agendas, with arrows and circles to indicate ovulation, etc. This has not been particularly uplifting as of late. I don't know when I'm going to ovulate again, so there's isn't much for me to do except sit there and think about

3) the fact that Wednesday is my egg-retrieval-versary, and thus was my pregnantversary. Today should have been 9 weeks. I know I'll stop counting the Wednesday eventually, but eventually is apparently not today. It is also my unpregnant-versary, as it was six weeks to the day when I had that grim doctor's appointment.

Last Wednesday was pretty good, though. I escaped from meetings long enough to go for an ultrasound. I have two large (>21mm) cysts on my right ovary, but they're "inactive" -- not pumping out estrogen -- and thus shouldn't interfere with the next cycle too much. My left ovary was meek and quiet. My beta from the previous Friday was down to zero, a piece of information I was personally unable to extract from Bitchy Office Assistant. Thankfully, my doctor had better luck. Uterus looked empty, lining thin. Estrogen was low, progesterone was low. Peace reigned in the pelvic girdle.

He suggested that once I got my period in 4-5-6 weeks, I call the office and we'd make plans for the next cycle. We told him that we didn't want to wait and that we wanted to do an IUI this cycle. He was non-nonplussed and suggested that I come back for bloodwork in a week to check my estrogen and see if my ovaries are coming back online. He also used the word "miscarriage" several times, which I found oddly comforting. More than once I've felt like this whole crazy thing was in my head, how absurd to think that I ever was pregnant.

And my ovaries, they are coming back. I can tell, with my mysterious mucus-scrying ways. I've started peeing on sticks and I feel pretty sure that I'll be ovulating again before too terribly long. I'm so eager to start again, although the eagerness is no longer nearly as desperate as it was.

Right after the miscarriage I felt a tortured craving to be pregnant again, right this second. It was horrible, like I needed a drug that no one could sell me. I would have done anything.

That sensation has steadily ebbed, not coincidentally as my hormone levels have approached normal. Now I want to be pregnant again, soon, but there are things I wouldn't do to make that happen.

But you know what I would do? Stick a catheter up my hooha, that's what I'd do. Especially now that I've already maxed out my deductible, which makes all medical treatment FREE, that's right, FREE, I can go and get my ovaries scanned and it will cost my hapless insurance company but not me personally. So laissez les bon temps roulez!