Had a birthday in our house yesterday. DH turned 35. I think both of us are slightly bummed out since we thought we'd be parents by now. I'm 34, only a few more months until I turn 35. I used to love my birthday, now it's become a milestone for all the years we've been fruitlessly trying to conceive. DH was oddly upbeat yesterday. It could be because I got him a wicked, awesome bday present, or he may be reflecting on how happy he is to be married to a gal as swell as me or (the most likely reason) he is grateful that, for once, I didn't wake up on the wrong side of the bed, I was actually very nice to him all day, it was his birthday after all and I'm not completely heartless.
DH is a man born in the wrong century. When he's feeling like a dandy, he goes to a barber shop and gets himself a proper shave with a straight razor. For the past six months, DH has been toying with the idea of using a straight razor at home. I nixed the idea right away, DH is very handsome with killer cheekbones, he's just too pretty for scars, (in my humble opinion.) Well, after much thought, I bought him a straight razor for his birthday. Not just any straight razor, I did my homework and got him a good quality, could-cut-you-to-the-bone-in-an-instant razor. I did this as a show of trust. He's a grown man, if he wants to scrape a frighteningly sharp metal object over his face and throat in the wee hours of the morning, that is his choice. Who am I to stand in his way? He liked the gift and is doing some research before attempting the first shave. He's a cautious fellow, a good thing in this case.
I'm still enjoying being drug-free. I'm also beginning to gear up for the next ivf cycle. As soon as my period starts I will have an ultrasound and bloodwork done to see if I'm ready to start the drugs again. In the meantime, I've started to investigate adoption. I need a plan B, it alleviates the pressure and gives me something productive to focus on. DH is beginning to accept the notion that I may never have his children. Hmmm, even writing that sentence hurts. A friend recently told me that infertile women finally stop feeling flawed or infertile after menopause. In an odd way, I'm dreading to turn 35, but simply cannot wait to hit menopause. Did you ever think infertility could be so ridiculous?
Monday, March 27, 2006
Thursday, March 23, 2006
U*G*L*Y, You Ain't Got No Alibi, Yo' UGLY
Went for my follow-up appointment today. While in the waiting room, DH and I discussed our fertility options. He's notorious for ignoring problems until they are huge, festering wounds that only major medical intervention can set right. So, true to form, the poor, innocent man said, "I don't want to talk about adoption or alternatives because I'm just going to hope ivf #2 works." I instantly felt sorry for him because I instinctively knew our talk with the doctor would be an eye-opener for him. I've gotten used to the idea that my eggs are crap, he's still in denial.
Let me preface this information with the fact that, I Love My Doctor. He is definitely the right balance of supportive and realism. So, Dr.Realistically-Supportive (Dr.RS) told us that after scrutinizing our ivf cycle, he thought my eggs were of sub-standard quality. Sub-standard was not his term, he got the point across to me by shrugging his shoulders, raising his eyebrows and saying things like, "Well, when we see eggs like yours, we know there is a problem and (insert shrug) there is really no way to make the eggs better." Translation: Lady, your eggs are so ugly, they make onions cry.
Dr.RS is a pro, he was appropriately gentle, but the look on DH's face when he processed what was said, almost made me cry. I've disappointed him in a way that words just can't express. As an added element of self-torture, I keep having flashes of DH married to someone else, a lovely, pretty, happy, FERTILE woman who, one day, excitedly says, "We're pregnant!" And then he smiles this big, cheesy grin and they hug and cry... I hate it that he will never experience that. DH deserves that. Heck, so do I, but I can't escape the reality that I was born with these eggs. He chose to marry them a mere 6 years ago. I'm afraid, if I were him, I'd be kicking myself for marrying me. Oh, he says all the right things like, "I married you, not your ovaries." But, at the end of the day, when we got married, I didn't bring much to the table. I'm no PhD, super-model or fitness queen. Just a normal, average gal that he thought was marry-able (see, I even make up nonsense words when no one can stop me.)
So, in the end, we are taking a month off from fertility treatments. Next month we try again with different medications. I've already started googling things and found some threads of hope. I'll share them with DH in the next few days as he tries to find his way out of the funk he's in. At least he is still on my team and we'll face the dragon together.
Let me preface this information with the fact that, I Love My Doctor. He is definitely the right balance of supportive and realism. So, Dr.Realistically-Supportive (Dr.RS) told us that after scrutinizing our ivf cycle, he thought my eggs were of sub-standard quality. Sub-standard was not his term, he got the point across to me by shrugging his shoulders, raising his eyebrows and saying things like, "Well, when we see eggs like yours, we know there is a problem and (insert shrug) there is really no way to make the eggs better." Translation: Lady, your eggs are so ugly, they make onions cry.
Dr.RS is a pro, he was appropriately gentle, but the look on DH's face when he processed what was said, almost made me cry. I've disappointed him in a way that words just can't express. As an added element of self-torture, I keep having flashes of DH married to someone else, a lovely, pretty, happy, FERTILE woman who, one day, excitedly says, "We're pregnant!" And then he smiles this big, cheesy grin and they hug and cry... I hate it that he will never experience that. DH deserves that. Heck, so do I, but I can't escape the reality that I was born with these eggs. He chose to marry them a mere 6 years ago. I'm afraid, if I were him, I'd be kicking myself for marrying me. Oh, he says all the right things like, "I married you, not your ovaries." But, at the end of the day, when we got married, I didn't bring much to the table. I'm no PhD, super-model or fitness queen. Just a normal, average gal that he thought was marry-able (see, I even make up nonsense words when no one can stop me.)
So, in the end, we are taking a month off from fertility treatments. Next month we try again with different medications. I've already started googling things and found some threads of hope. I'll share them with DH in the next few days as he tries to find his way out of the funk he's in. At least he is still on my team and we'll face the dragon together.
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
I'm Good Enough, I'm Smart Enough and Gosh Darn It, People Like Me
Thursday I will be meeting with my RE to discuss the failure of my ivf cycle and where we go from here. There are a few protocols that may help me produce a better crop of eggs. I've started investigating them and plan on taking a list of questions to our appointment. There is a chance I will miss my appointment because one of my coworkers passed away this weekend and funeral arrangements are on Thursday also.
My colleagues passing has (yet again) brought my faith into question. Sometimes I wonder why I was given the gift of infertility when everyone else in my immediate family is extremely fertile. Sometimes I simply can't stand my body. I feel it has betrayed me beyond forgiveness. My body has not only forbidden me to get pregnant, it has also decided to pack on an extra 30 pounds. I'm no willowy creature either, I used to be called petite, since gaining my hormone-induced, infertility weight you can simply call me short and squaty.
The problem is, when I was 30 pounds lighter, (you know, way back 3+ years ago when I was living a carefree, apparently fertile life) I was unhappy with my weight and appearance. Now, 30 pounds and many "visits to the stirrups" later, I'm still unhappy with my weight and appearance. This indicates that a) no matter what the scale says, I will most likely be unhappy and b) that dreaded number on the scale goes UP way easier than it goes DOWN. Thus, I've come to the conclusion that I'd better start appreciating my body now because she's a devilish one, with an eye for twinkies.
This brings me to the question of the day. How do I begin to appreciate my body? Let's face it, she hasn't done right by me in the last few years, but then again, she has fended off many a cold and flu while those around me suffered. My body has done a relatively fine job of maintaining my hair color, (with a little help from me attacking the stray grays.) My fingernails are rather attractive, (most likely from the crates of prenatal vitamins I've ingested over the years.) So, is that the answer, do I focus on all the good things my body has done for me and stop dwelling on the negatives? Is that possible when the negatives are so freaking negative?
I don't know the answer, but I do know, I'm not getting any younger. I wasted my 20's worrying about an extra 5 pounds, if I waste my 30's lamenting about crappy eggs, when will I break the cycle? Will I find something to ruin my 40's too? I think I'm turning into a malcontent. Yikes. Note to self, snap out of it- things could be worse. Maybe that's what I'll say in the mirror each morning, "I'm good enough, I'm smart enough and gosh darn it, things could be worse."
My colleagues passing has (yet again) brought my faith into question. Sometimes I wonder why I was given the gift of infertility when everyone else in my immediate family is extremely fertile. Sometimes I simply can't stand my body. I feel it has betrayed me beyond forgiveness. My body has not only forbidden me to get pregnant, it has also decided to pack on an extra 30 pounds. I'm no willowy creature either, I used to be called petite, since gaining my hormone-induced, infertility weight you can simply call me short and squaty.
The problem is, when I was 30 pounds lighter, (you know, way back 3+ years ago when I was living a carefree, apparently fertile life) I was unhappy with my weight and appearance. Now, 30 pounds and many "visits to the stirrups" later, I'm still unhappy with my weight and appearance. This indicates that a) no matter what the scale says, I will most likely be unhappy and b) that dreaded number on the scale goes UP way easier than it goes DOWN. Thus, I've come to the conclusion that I'd better start appreciating my body now because she's a devilish one, with an eye for twinkies.
This brings me to the question of the day. How do I begin to appreciate my body? Let's face it, she hasn't done right by me in the last few years, but then again, she has fended off many a cold and flu while those around me suffered. My body has done a relatively fine job of maintaining my hair color, (with a little help from me attacking the stray grays.) My fingernails are rather attractive, (most likely from the crates of prenatal vitamins I've ingested over the years.) So, is that the answer, do I focus on all the good things my body has done for me and stop dwelling on the negatives? Is that possible when the negatives are so freaking negative?
I don't know the answer, but I do know, I'm not getting any younger. I wasted my 20's worrying about an extra 5 pounds, if I waste my 30's lamenting about crappy eggs, when will I break the cycle? Will I find something to ruin my 40's too? I think I'm turning into a malcontent. Yikes. Note to self, snap out of it- things could be worse. Maybe that's what I'll say in the mirror each morning, "I'm good enough, I'm smart enough and gosh darn it, things could be worse."
Saturday, March 18, 2006
Can Someone Please Pass the Windex?
I've started this post three different times and erased them all. I simply don't know what to write. I'm in a strange place. I'm ready to start looking forward to the next cycle, but my mind won't allow me to forget the last one. Every time I begin to think about my next cycle, my mind flashes back to the nurse's words, "your beta was negative."
I feel like I'm being unrealistic by hoping the next cycle works. I wonder if I'm missing some important cosmic message the universe is trying to send me, as if I'm purposely plugging my ears while someone is shouting, "you're not meant to be a mother, just stop already!" Maybe it's no cosmic message, maybe it's just that voice in my head that gets obnoxiously loud when I'm at my most vulnerable.
How do we turn that voice off? I can fill my mind with other thoughts, but as soon as my mind becomes still, the voice is back along with images of needles and babies. I've stopped thinking about raising a child. Instead, I've entered into a battle to get pregnant, period. Some people see life through rose colored glasses. I'm wearing mud smeared goggles and I'm exhausted trying to see things clearly through them.
I feel like I'm being unrealistic by hoping the next cycle works. I wonder if I'm missing some important cosmic message the universe is trying to send me, as if I'm purposely plugging my ears while someone is shouting, "you're not meant to be a mother, just stop already!" Maybe it's no cosmic message, maybe it's just that voice in my head that gets obnoxiously loud when I'm at my most vulnerable.
How do we turn that voice off? I can fill my mind with other thoughts, but as soon as my mind becomes still, the voice is back along with images of needles and babies. I've stopped thinking about raising a child. Instead, I've entered into a battle to get pregnant, period. Some people see life through rose colored glasses. I'm wearing mud smeared goggles and I'm exhausted trying to see things clearly through them.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
The Fat Lady Sang (And Then I Smacked Her)
Negative, Negative, Negative, Negative.
Maybe if I say it, write it, think it enough, it will desensitize me to the word. Negative.
It was the one test I really didn't want to fail.
Fail. Fail. Fail. Fail.
Got to get used to that word again, too. Fail.
I think I did a pretty good job of holding it together all day. I kept my phone off and got the news on the ride home.
What to do now? My mind is both racing and stagnant. There is so much I want to write, but I can't think right now. I need to assimilate this information into my life. I still find it unbelievable.
When I find myself in devastating situations like this, my survival tactic is to wait out the storm. Time is usually the only thing that eases the pain. So, for now, I breathe. And wait.
I will check back in tomorrow. Hopefully, I'll have a new perspective.
Maybe if I say it, write it, think it enough, it will desensitize me to the word. Negative.
It was the one test I really didn't want to fail.
Fail. Fail. Fail. Fail.
Got to get used to that word again, too. Fail.
I think I did a pretty good job of holding it together all day. I kept my phone off and got the news on the ride home.
What to do now? My mind is both racing and stagnant. There is so much I want to write, but I can't think right now. I need to assimilate this information into my life. I still find it unbelievable.
When I find myself in devastating situations like this, my survival tactic is to wait out the storm. Time is usually the only thing that eases the pain. So, for now, I breathe. And wait.
I will check back in tomorrow. Hopefully, I'll have a new perspective.
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
The Countdown Begins: Insanity Sets In
Pregnancy test set for tomorrow morning at 7:30. I should get the results by early afternoon. I'm debating about letting it go to voicemail or answering the call at work. Chances are, I'll be devastated and need a moment to regroup.
I hope I can wait until I'm off work to listen to the message. Wait a minute. Who am I kidding? I'll have that phone glued to my clammy little palm ALL DAY, as I constantly check the signal strength and battery level. Oh, how I wish I were stronger. It would be so nice to fall apart in private. I'm clearly my own worst enemy.
So, this is my last post as a potentially pregnant lady. I feel I should warn you now, things may get pretty dark from here on out. I feel a storm a brewin'.
To all of you that think I should be more positive, let me put your minds at ease. Between the acupuncture, visualizations, prayers and healthy diet, trust me, I've got the positive vibe covered.
I simply feel the need to be outwardly vocal about my negativity because the hope that fills every cell in my body is almost excruciating. Anyone pursuing infertility treatments will tell you that, no matter the circumstances, we always hope (and kind of believe) this cycle is THE ONE. I must speak my negativity to balance out the hysteria bubbling in my brain.
I don't want to end this post. I don't want to eat dinner. I don't want to get in my pajamas. I don't want to go to bed. I don't want tomorrow to come. I want time to stand still. Because today, I'm potentially pregnant. So close to being in that exclusive, elusive club of motherhood. Tomorrow, I'll be back in the barren barracks. The dismal, smelly, infertility sweatshops are calling me back. But, oh, I've enjoyed my time in the sun, pretending I'm mother material. I've got to say it's been a nice ride and I hope to be back here soon.
Signing off.
I hope I can wait until I'm off work to listen to the message. Wait a minute. Who am I kidding? I'll have that phone glued to my clammy little palm ALL DAY, as I constantly check the signal strength and battery level. Oh, how I wish I were stronger. It would be so nice to fall apart in private. I'm clearly my own worst enemy.
So, this is my last post as a potentially pregnant lady. I feel I should warn you now, things may get pretty dark from here on out. I feel a storm a brewin'.
To all of you that think I should be more positive, let me put your minds at ease. Between the acupuncture, visualizations, prayers and healthy diet, trust me, I've got the positive vibe covered.
I simply feel the need to be outwardly vocal about my negativity because the hope that fills every cell in my body is almost excruciating. Anyone pursuing infertility treatments will tell you that, no matter the circumstances, we always hope (and kind of believe) this cycle is THE ONE. I must speak my negativity to balance out the hysteria bubbling in my brain.
I don't want to end this post. I don't want to eat dinner. I don't want to get in my pajamas. I don't want to go to bed. I don't want tomorrow to come. I want time to stand still. Because today, I'm potentially pregnant. So close to being in that exclusive, elusive club of motherhood. Tomorrow, I'll be back in the barren barracks. The dismal, smelly, infertility sweatshops are calling me back. But, oh, I've enjoyed my time in the sun, pretending I'm mother material. I've got to say it's been a nice ride and I hope to be back here soon.
Signing off.
Monday, March 13, 2006
Game Shows, Cramps and a Test
Went to church yesterday and was able to genuinely smile. The people there were very supportive. Most don't know any details, only that I was conspicuously absent last week. When they asked DH where I was he said, "she's not sick, just not getting out of bed." Hmmm, guess I won't be using him as a lifeline if I'm ever on Who Wants to be a Millionaire. Apparently, he can't think under pressure.
I went to work in a good mood today. I feel like I'm prepared for whatever Wednesday's blood test brings. I'll probably be knocked for a loop for a day or two, but I'm looking forward to a few needle-free weeks.
This afternoon, while at work, I got horrible cramps, absolutely wicked, awful pain. They made me light-headed, took my breath away and made me nauseous. The cramps came every ten minutes and walking around was the only way I could work through them.
It is 13 days past ovulation and today my home pregnancy test was negative. I'm okay, really. I don't promise to be okay tomorrow, but I think I will be. I'm taking it one day at a time, later this week, I may be taking it one hour at a time, but for now, I'm at peace (and hopefully so is my little 4-cell embryo, wherever he may be.)
I went to work in a good mood today. I feel like I'm prepared for whatever Wednesday's blood test brings. I'll probably be knocked for a loop for a day or two, but I'm looking forward to a few needle-free weeks.
This afternoon, while at work, I got horrible cramps, absolutely wicked, awful pain. They made me light-headed, took my breath away and made me nauseous. The cramps came every ten minutes and walking around was the only way I could work through them.
It is 13 days past ovulation and today my home pregnancy test was negative. I'm okay, really. I don't promise to be okay tomorrow, but I think I will be. I'm taking it one day at a time, later this week, I may be taking it one hour at a time, but for now, I'm at peace (and hopefully so is my little 4-cell embryo, wherever he may be.)
Saturday, March 11, 2006
The Waiting Game
I can't believe it's been a whole week since the embryo transfer, in a way, it feels like a year. The fact that I went through the ivf cycle feels unreal, like it happened to someone else. I guess my method of coping has been to turn off my brain and go through the motions. It is a good self-preservation tactic, but I usually end up feeling like I missed out on something.
I've really been trying to be hopeful and positive, but that is next to impossible for me. I will go in for a pregnancy test on Wednesday. They will draw my blood, this is usually called a beta blood test. Before the beta, I'm going to use a home pregnancy test so I will have an idea of the outcome before the nurse calls. Some people don't do the hpt, they find it too difficult or would rather enjoy the notion of "possibly" being pregnant. In my case, I simply can't stand the wait any longer. I feel such a strong need to know the outcome of this cycle. I'm living in limbo and must get back onto solid ground.
I'm second-guessing everything I do. If I want to paint my nails, I think, "I won't get a positive result on the hpt with painted nails, I better not paint them," so I don't. When I want to tell someone about my cycle or a particular cramp I have, I think, "if that person knows this information, my pregnancy test will be negative," so I keep the info to myself. Now, I realize, believe me, I REALIZE how CRAZY this sounds yet, I cannot help myself. I'm not generally a superstitious person, but frankly, I'm not myself these days. The old me seems to have taken a hike long ago and I just keep getting farther and farther away from the person I used to be.
I've got two more days until I do an hpt. Until then, I've battened down the hatches and gone into my zone. Officially turning off my brain and preparing to go through the motions until it's safe to resurface. When did life get so hard? Today, I can't even imagine what it must feel like to get pregnant just by enjoying a nice, romantic night with my husband. That seems so far away from me now. How did I get here?
I've really been trying to be hopeful and positive, but that is next to impossible for me. I will go in for a pregnancy test on Wednesday. They will draw my blood, this is usually called a beta blood test. Before the beta, I'm going to use a home pregnancy test so I will have an idea of the outcome before the nurse calls. Some people don't do the hpt, they find it too difficult or would rather enjoy the notion of "possibly" being pregnant. In my case, I simply can't stand the wait any longer. I feel such a strong need to know the outcome of this cycle. I'm living in limbo and must get back onto solid ground.
I'm second-guessing everything I do. If I want to paint my nails, I think, "I won't get a positive result on the hpt with painted nails, I better not paint them," so I don't. When I want to tell someone about my cycle or a particular cramp I have, I think, "if that person knows this information, my pregnancy test will be negative," so I keep the info to myself. Now, I realize, believe me, I REALIZE how CRAZY this sounds yet, I cannot help myself. I'm not generally a superstitious person, but frankly, I'm not myself these days. The old me seems to have taken a hike long ago and I just keep getting farther and farther away from the person I used to be.
I've got two more days until I do an hpt. Until then, I've battened down the hatches and gone into my zone. Officially turning off my brain and preparing to go through the motions until it's safe to resurface. When did life get so hard? Today, I can't even imagine what it must feel like to get pregnant just by enjoying a nice, romantic night with my husband. That seems so far away from me now. How did I get here?
Saturday, March 04, 2006
The Photograph of a Lifetime
Officially in survival mode now, both of us, my embryo and me. I'm not sure how strong this embryo is or how long it will live, but it was alive and growing when it was put into my body. If it doesn't survive, at least we've had a brief bit of time together. I'm grateful for that.
If this embryo does not make it, I will not know when it passes away. I will only be able to detect it's absence if the pregnancy test in ten days comes back negative. It is painful knowing that even now it may already be gone. I'll never have that answer so I will choose not to dwell on it. Instead I'll enjoy the memory of seeing the embryo on the ultrasound as it was put into my body.
We even have a picture of it. A grainy, black and white ultrasound picture of my embryo, a tiny, white speck, being propelled out of a catheter into it's mother's waiting body. The ultrasound tech told us we were having a Coming Home Party as the embryo was placed back in me and I have a real, honest to goodness, picture. I'm grateful for that.
If this embryo does not make it, I will not know when it passes away. I will only be able to detect it's absence if the pregnancy test in ten days comes back negative. It is painful knowing that even now it may already be gone. I'll never have that answer so I will choose not to dwell on it. Instead I'll enjoy the memory of seeing the embryo on the ultrasound as it was put into my body.
We even have a picture of it. A grainy, black and white ultrasound picture of my embryo, a tiny, white speck, being propelled out of a catheter into it's mother's waiting body. The ultrasound tech told us we were having a Coming Home Party as the embryo was placed back in me and I have a real, honest to goodness, picture. I'm grateful for that.
Friday, March 03, 2006
And Then There Was One
Only one embryo made it to transfer. It was graded average, only a 4 cell when they like to see a 5-6 cell. The good news is, it wasn't fragmented. Except for being a slowpoke, the embryologist said it looked "perfect."
I'm pretty much numb. All those shots, thousands of dollars of medication, the blood draws, crack of dawn appointments: my life for the last month relying on this poor little 4 cell embryo for validation.
I'm trying to be positive, but it's actually painful to hope at this point. I need to find something else to focus on. Let's see, I guess I could go back to my normal life and become productive at work again. I could find time to be social with friends again. Hopefully, there is still life on the outside because it's getting pretty dark and dreadful in the infertility abyss.
I'm pretty much numb. All those shots, thousands of dollars of medication, the blood draws, crack of dawn appointments: my life for the last month relying on this poor little 4 cell embryo for validation.
I'm trying to be positive, but it's actually painful to hope at this point. I need to find something else to focus on. Let's see, I guess I could go back to my normal life and become productive at work again. I could find time to be social with friends again. Hopefully, there is still life on the outside because it's getting pretty dark and dreadful in the infertility abyss.
Thursday, March 02, 2006
Hold On Embryos, Mamma's A' Comin'
We are on for Friday's embryo transfer. The nurse called this morning and told us to come in at 7:45 with a big bottle of water. The procedure is done with a full bladder so, I'll start drinking when I get into the parking lot. I quizzed the nurse on the quality of the embryos, but she wouldn't give an inch, nada, no information what-so-ever! Makes me crazy. She said the doctor wanted to give us the report tomorrow. I understand not wanting anything to get lost in translation, but let me tell you, if you haven't already guessed, infertility is mental torture.
I've scheduled acupuncture immediately following transfer. DH says he will be around to take care of things around the house except for a short time in the afternoon. He won't tell me where he is going which leads me to believe he is going out with a buddy I don't care for or he is planning something nice for me. Either way, I've had about enough surprises for a lifetime.
I've heard people say "the suspense is killing me." Is that possible? Because, if it is, this infertility suspense has my days numbered.
Over and out for now.
I've scheduled acupuncture immediately following transfer. DH says he will be around to take care of things around the house except for a short time in the afternoon. He won't tell me where he is going which leads me to believe he is going out with a buddy I don't care for or he is planning something nice for me. Either way, I've had about enough surprises for a lifetime.
I've heard people say "the suspense is killing me." Is that possible? Because, if it is, this infertility suspense has my days numbered.
Over and out for now.
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
And Then There Were Two
Out of the 9 eggs that were retrieved, 4 were mature. Of the 4 that were mature, 2 fertilized. I was disappointed to hear this news, but the nurse reminded me that some women have cycles where none fertilize. In fact, the woman in the next room yesterday at my retrieval had none fertilize. There but the grace of God go I. If all goes well Thursday, we will transfer the embryo's on Friday. Then we will do some major praying that the little ones implant.
DH keeps walking around the house smiling, saying he is the father of two embryos. His optimism is scaring me. I feel as though he will jinx us, but I don't dare rain on his parade since this is the first time in 3 years he has found enjoyment in the creation of our family. When infertility hits, all romantic ideas of starting a family go flying out the window. If this cycle doesn't work, we both will be jaded and cautious during future ivf cycles. At least, today, he has the luxury of innocence and I like that. I hate that I've brought infertility into his life.
Must keep my mind on good thoughts, our little embryos are growing in a dish 2 miles from our house. I can't wait to have them back with us, even it is only short-lived. Positive thoughts, positive thoughts.
DH keeps walking around the house smiling, saying he is the father of two embryos. His optimism is scaring me. I feel as though he will jinx us, but I don't dare rain on his parade since this is the first time in 3 years he has found enjoyment in the creation of our family. When infertility hits, all romantic ideas of starting a family go flying out the window. If this cycle doesn't work, we both will be jaded and cautious during future ivf cycles. At least, today, he has the luxury of innocence and I like that. I hate that I've brought infertility into his life.
Must keep my mind on good thoughts, our little embryos are growing in a dish 2 miles from our house. I can't wait to have them back with us, even it is only short-lived. Positive thoughts, positive thoughts.
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