So today I did the baseline stuff. I'll skip the details and cut to the chase: one whopping big 17mm follicle on my left, and a second only slightly less whopping follicle on the same side says.....no meds for me this time around.
The right ovary had about 5-6 normal sized ones, so that was heartening for next time.
So, this will be a "natural" LH surge/ unmedicated IUI cycle if all goes well and if a surge is detected. One never knows, damn pee sticks feel like the enemy at the moment.
And yeah, you know how I thought I was taking this ok? Good old pragmatiKate? um, not so much. It caught up with me last night, tears flowed all over my sweetie's shoulder, and he was good enough to just hold me tightly. Hear me roar.
I am struggling anyway this season. I hate August. I do not use the word hate lightly. In fairness, some very very good things have happened in August. Jane was born in August for example, a wondrous occurrence that we should all celebrate just because it made the world a better place just to have her in it, and I celebrate beyond that because by knowing her I learned what love could feel like at its very best even if I was stupid about it at the time. August is when the president was born. And when my sweet darlin' was born too. So see? not all of August is bad. But for me it is a quagmire of memory, of losses on so many levels, a time when my marriage came apart, when I lost my husband to suicide, when I came apart so fully I was sure that there was no way to ever ever put myself back together. And in some ways I was right, I am not the same person as before. This one, this one is different. I like to think of the cracks as something beautiful, the glue as evidence of strength, the holes as openness to new things, the stains as evidence of mistakes I will not be making again.
But the slant of the light and the milky sky, the moon rising, the smell of the air, the sounds of late summer insects, the feel of everything, they all conspire to take me right back and I am floundering, trying to stay present in the NOW of my wonderful life. But all the sticky fingers of memory pull me back again and again and again and it is such an effort to extricate myself. So I feel sloggy and heartsick and like I just want to sleep through these next few weeks and wake up whole.
BUT sisterlove starting tomorrow with a nice long visit, a wonderful, timely distraction. This next week is the worst and then I'll be out the other side. I try not to give it this power, but it is stupid of me to deny what I feel even when I so much want to feel differently.
So yes, a hard time. A time that will pass again. I am buoyant and inherently positive, but I know this dance. I don't like it much. Sadness and I are well acquainted but we are not good friends. I know there are gifts, there almost always are. But the cost.
Oh, the cost.