We’re in the thick of it now. Our IVF cycle, that is. Today is day 7. Retrieval is scheduled for Thursday.
I haven’t written much about it this time around, I guess because I feel so incredibly detached from the whole process. Actually, I was pretty detached from the cycle that brought us Abby too. I just feel like there’s nothing I can do. I can’t change the outcome of anything and so I go through the motions. I make the early morning drives to London, schlep through my day at work, drive to my acupuncture appointment after work, and then go home and crash. It’s not all that different from my life in the last 9 months — just going through the motions. “This is what living looks like”.
I also think I’m trying desperately to not get my hopes up too high. Even though the last time I said something like that, my girl Kendall called bullshit and astutely pointed out that we can’t protect ourselves from feeling disappointment with something like this. That’s why I love her, she helps me keep it real. However, I still feel like I’m in protection mode. And I’m smarter now… er.. maybe just less naive. I was so excited last cycle to be growing 18 follicles. I thought I was a fucking superstar. Little did I know, those follicles would mostly contain duds. And the ones that were good only got us two embies and the two embies gave us Abby, but we all know how that story ended. Nothing is guaranteed… right from the beginning. And so I’m closing my eyes, jumping in the pool and hoping I don’t break my fucking neck.
I can’t even put the scheduled retrieval and transfer in my calendar in my phone. I don’t want to stare at those dots if they never come to fruition. I hated having to delete my MFM and ultrasound appointments once Abby was gone… and those damn pregnancy apps.
So far, everything looks good on paper. My FSH on day 2 (the very beginning of this cycle) was 4.3, which they tell me is great for a gal my age! My ovaries were nice and quiet on day zero. My estradiol was 837 on day 4 and at monitoring yesterday, I had11 follicles worth measuring and 9 smaller ones lagging behind. And my lining was 10. All of this is good apparently. I can’t even let myself goo.gle and research this shit too much because it’s far too anxiety provoking.. and I just don’t need any extra help travelling the road called crazy right now. And none of it really matters, because none of it means I get my take-home baby.
I’m not completely without hope. I mean, it did work last time and we were blessed with our beautiful girl… so there’s that. But I just can’t let myself get too far ahead of myself. I found myself thinking about upcoming events (out of town workshop for work, scrappy weekend with my galpals, Christmas) and thinking “I could be X number of weeks pregnant then”.. but stopping myself because those events will happen regardless and I’ll be reminded that I was so stupid to think that something would go right for once!
So there it is, that’s where I’m at. I want this to work so desperately. I want that vision of my child in my arms to come true. And I’m scared to death of what it will feel like and how I will cope if it all falls apart.