Gestating

Because it’s fun for me, every time my husband is trying to annoy me (even jokingly), I say, “No! You can’t do that! I’m gestating!” And I melodramatically throw myself down on the couch, clutching my abdomen protectively, to ensure the safety of our precious morula.

All joking aside, this exchange belies my true feelings about this cycle. Usually, I'm skeptical that a cycle could have worked, but there's always a piece of me that can't resist interpreting every twinge, every smptom, every sign. Usually, even though I won't say it out loud, there's a piece of me that is shocked when I inevitably cave, pee on a stick, and see a sea of white where there *should* be a second line. Even in my sixth IUI, when no one, not even my doctor, thought it was going anywhere - the cycle that was doomed to fail (but resulted in an HOM pregnancy instead) - even then, I thought there was a chance, even though I wouldn't admit it out loud.

But this time I simply cannot wrap my brain around the possibility that this cycle has any possibility of ending well. I don't have even the smallest bit of hope. SuperDoc is heading out of the country for 2 1/2 weeks, and he's leaving before my beta happens. I'm devastated by this, which is ridiculous, but there you go. I never claimed to be rational, and I'm sure the copious amounts of estrogen and PIO aren't helping matters. Anyway, I've made an appointment for a follow up consult with SuperDoc for the first week of July - right after SuperDoc gets back. I figure that way we can talk about where to go from here, because clearly something's gotta give.

Sigh.

I hope I eat my words, but I just... I'm not counting on it. I'm really not asking for platititudes. I can't handle them, really. they won't make me feel better. All I need now is to just ... get from point A to point B.