Woke up at 4, couldn't get back to sleep. At 6, got up and peed on stick. Result: a negative so white it could cause snow blindness. Took my glasses off, tilted it hither and yon. Not even a decent evap to entertain myself with.
So it begins...
ETA Lest it all sound too desolate: spending a splendid cuddly day with Small Boy. I set up a pop-up tent-tunnel combination that I scored at Value Village last year and have just now realized that he's old enough for. Later on we'll go to the library, maybe to Whole Foods. It will be a nice Sunday, regardless.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
Saturday, July 30, 2011
3dp5dt
Symptoms: few. I swing between wild optimism and wild pessimism. Things that help: snuggling Small Boy, eating nice food. Things that don't help: reading various fertility boards.
I think I have a touch of PTSD over the last time we did this. I keep losing track of where and when I am now. The despair licks at the edges of my brain, and I realize that I've forgotten, once again, that this is not the same as it was. Once I look around and connect with the present, I feel a thousand percent better.
For my successful pregnancy, I got a (very faint) positive in the evening of 4dp5dt. For my unsuccessful pregnancy, it was 5dp5dt. I currently have in my possession 45 pregnancy tests (shut up. it's a long story. no, it's not.) Peeing will commence tomorrow evening. Who am I kidding: peeing will commence tomorrow morning. In fact, it's a wonder I'm not peeing on something right now.
I think I have a touch of PTSD over the last time we did this. I keep losing track of where and when I am now. The despair licks at the edges of my brain, and I realize that I've forgotten, once again, that this is not the same as it was. Once I look around and connect with the present, I feel a thousand percent better.
For my successful pregnancy, I got a (very faint) positive in the evening of 4dp5dt. For my unsuccessful pregnancy, it was 5dp5dt. I currently have in my possession 45 pregnancy tests (shut up. it's a long story. no, it's not.) Peeing will commence tomorrow evening. Who am I kidding: peeing will commence tomorrow morning. In fact, it's a wonder I'm not peeing on something right now.
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Schrödinger's Fetus
My uterus
contains two embryos. Quantum theory says, I guess, that they are neither alive nor dead. In general, this explains why quantum theory is something that I never intend to trouble my pretty little mind with in any sort of systematic way.
But right now, specifically, at this moment, I am a fan of quantum theory. I much prefer to spend the next few days thinking of the embryos as neither alive nor dead. It's painful to think that it could be all over already, and I just don't know it yet. Better to think that they are neither until the instant that first drop of pee hits the peestick.
Where we are
1 day past 5 day transfer of 2 embryos (both 3BB).
How we got here
For a while I'd been making noises about trying for another "starting around Small Boy's second birthday." He turned two on Tuesday. Wednesday we transferred two defrosted embryos.
Things that are true #1: this is nothing, nothing, nothing like the past three attempts.
I am in no way discounting the acute pain that secondary infertility causes some people when I say oh my fucking god so much better. Last time, failure was "dangling over the abyss." This time, failure is "not getting what I want". I mean, I know I would have survived, I would have had to, people do. But every time I thought of it, my brain just blurred into pain. Now? I'm not as flippant as I hoped I might be; I care. I care a lot. But... my worst-case scenario is not the abyss. It is (kinnehorah-inshallah-god willin-and-the-creek-don't-rise) only raising my funny, fascinating son.
I can never feel hard-done-by. I have him, and while I may not be grateful every day, I am at least grateful every second or third day.
Things that are true #2: this is nothing compared to the physical devastation of my fresh cycles.
Frozen embryo transfers are so low-key that they barely register. It don't mean a thing if it don't involve a sharps container, you know? Take some pills. Stuff some gel up your vagina. After a couple of weeks, stick a couple of embryos in there and see what happens.
C'mon. At no time during this cycle have I been able to say "breathing hurts". Calling that a win.
Things that are true #3: this is still amazingly nerve-wracking. Maybe it's the hormones; although there are no injections (my protocol was strictly Estrace - Crinone) there are still tons of hormones floating around my brain. Or maybe it's that it's impossible to ignore the magnitude of what we're trying to do and the difference it could make in all of our lives.
So the request I am making to the universe: please. I am so grateful for what I have. Can I have some more?
Procedural notes for record-keeping:
D3 E2 = 52 FSH = 7.9
contains two embryos. Quantum theory says, I guess, that they are neither alive nor dead. In general, this explains why quantum theory is something that I never intend to trouble my pretty little mind with in any sort of systematic way.
But right now, specifically, at this moment, I am a fan of quantum theory. I much prefer to spend the next few days thinking of the embryos as neither alive nor dead. It's painful to think that it could be all over already, and I just don't know it yet. Better to think that they are neither until the instant that first drop of pee hits the peestick.
Where we are
1 day past 5 day transfer of 2 embryos (both 3BB).
How we got here
For a while I'd been making noises about trying for another "starting around Small Boy's second birthday." He turned two on Tuesday. Wednesday we transferred two defrosted embryos.
Things that are true #1: this is nothing, nothing, nothing like the past three attempts.
I am in no way discounting the acute pain that secondary infertility causes some people when I say oh my fucking god so much better. Last time, failure was "dangling over the abyss." This time, failure is "not getting what I want". I mean, I know I would have survived, I would have had to, people do. But every time I thought of it, my brain just blurred into pain. Now? I'm not as flippant as I hoped I might be; I care. I care a lot. But... my worst-case scenario is not the abyss. It is (kinnehorah-inshallah-god willin-and-the-creek-don't-rise) only raising my funny, fascinating son.
I can never feel hard-done-by. I have him, and while I may not be grateful every day, I am at least grateful every second or third day.
Things that are true #2: this is nothing compared to the physical devastation of my fresh cycles.
Frozen embryo transfers are so low-key that they barely register. It don't mean a thing if it don't involve a sharps container, you know? Take some pills. Stuff some gel up your vagina. After a couple of weeks, stick a couple of embryos in there and see what happens.
C'mon. At no time during this cycle have I been able to say "breathing hurts". Calling that a win.
Things that are true #3: this is still amazingly nerve-wracking. Maybe it's the hormones; although there are no injections (my protocol was strictly Estrace - Crinone) there are still tons of hormones floating around my brain. Or maybe it's that it's impossible to ignore the magnitude of what we're trying to do and the difference it could make in all of our lives.
So the request I am making to the universe: please. I am so grateful for what I have. Can I have some more?
Procedural notes for record-keeping:
D3 E2 = 52 FSH = 7.9
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