It's a Two-Post Kind of Day

My thoughts have been scattered all day, so bear with me, as I try to get them down.

Oh, dear IF Blogging Ladies, I'm so sad. It seems like emotions go up and down on a whim, and as J puts it so eloquently, he's not sure I can handle it.

Well, of course I can handle it. But this whole process of trying to have a child, while a long one, is dependent on a series of short steps, one at a time. Finish one task, move on to the next. And the next, and the next. One day at a time, J says. Start each new phase of your quest with a blank slate, says one of my favorite IF guru-authors.

But I am a planner. I like to know my schedule, both immediate and long term. I utilize the daily calendar on my Palm and log in daily to-do lists, but you bet I print out the six-month-at-a-glance pages at the same time. To check my progress. To make contingency plans. To find time for the things I want to do (although it doesn't seem like much of that lately).

So it was with hopeful anticipation that I phoned Dr. Pleasant's office for news on my three remaining embryos. If they made it to blastocysts, they would be frozen. None of the buggers made it.

"This isn't really unusual," Dr. P says. "That's why we transferred the healthiest three." Dr. Pleasant with no undertone of hope, or of disappointment in his voice.

"Focus on the positive ... have hope ... have faith." These are the words from my dear, sweet husband when I approach him with tears. "It doesn't matter what happened to those three ... we have these three." Where does his hope, his faith come from, I ask?

I've had hope. I've had faith. Faith in God, faith in science, faith in my body, faith in fate, faith in patience. And every single month for the past two and a half years, faith has smirked and said "Nope, none for you."

Perhaps faith will pull through, and next Tuesday I will receive the news I've been dying for.

Or she'll deliver a swift kick to the ass, and I'll be back to square one. No backup plan with a few blob-sicles waiting to find a home inside my body. We will not pass go, we will not get to draw a bonus card, but we will be sent back to the beginning of the game board, and have to start all over again with the entire cycle.

Could I be more of a pessimist? Yes, I think I could. Because I also possess a great amount of hope. I finally read past the IVF chapters in my IF books, to the "Pregnant after Infertility" chapters. I carry the framed pictures of my three blobs around the house with me. I talk to it, and touch it carefully. Yep, I even kissed it. I leaf through the baby and pregnancy magazines that litter my house. I watch "Birth Day" and "A Baby Story" with anticipation.

Hope is there. She's just afraid to show her face, lest she be told to go back home.

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Inconceivable. The show. I watched two episodes and am not hooked, but still morbidly curious. Since I was confined to my bed, I checked in on Friday, but it wasn't on. I checked NBC's schedule for this week, and it's not on again. Any news? Was it cancelled? Would I be sad about that? Not really.

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I have taken custody of the right butt cheek, and J. gets custody of the left. He's not the greatest at the PIO injections, and I suspect he hit my tailbone two days ago, so I'm claiming rights to the side I can reach. I found some great info on message boards about how to give it to yourself, but my own way just worked...I think it depends on your body, quite honestly. I'll post more later.

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I made a delicious dinner tonight, if I do say so myself. J said so, as well, but I wonder if he was just pumping my ego a bit. A butternut squash soup, and a portobello stacked salad. I'm not going to post recipes, but if anyone's interested, I'm happy to share the details. It was deeelish!

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If you made it this far ... thanks for reading. I'm feeling almost as emotional, sensitive and generally-whacked-out as I was when on all the suppression/stim drugs earlier. But not quite.