still just 1 line
A note from my sweet nurse, Sharon, said the cyst may be wreaking petite havoc with ovulation, that is maybe why the delay-- and it is good to have a "why", a reason, since otherwise I start to wonder about the voracity of my own personal persecution complex.
My heart is feeling shitty still, and last night was a fragile one. Yes, work is hard right now, but I spent a lot of time talking and thinking and really, it is so many other things too that are causing the backdrop feeling of overwhelmedness. It is all of it, not just one thing. The bitch of it is, that there is not much I can do about This without horribly impacting That. And this inability to find a solution is extra hard. I am screwed either way. This, like so much, is about regret management. What will I regret less?
My darlin' and I talked about what's next, since the hourglass feels like it is running fast, and these next few months will move by so quickly. Dartmouth will not cycle with me with my eggs after 43. I imagine they may consent to unmedicated IUIs but otherwise...
So we talked about donor eggs, and I will be in touch with Shady Grove- we will need to finance this no matter what, and they offer the best program in terms of number of chances for the same cost as a single cycle here. I am not ready, I am not. But I will lay the ground work so I will not only know what is likely next, but know what is involved, already know how we might pay for it, know the next steps, and have the folks there know me. My darlin' had a good point, come February, why wait? Let's just move forward.
I just want this to work, internet people, I really do. I just want to get pregnant and stay pregnant for the correct amount of time, give birth to a healthy being, be healthy myself, fall into the day by day, moment to moment learning of a never-before-parent and curse the day I thought this was a good idea... I want ice cream and kites and sidewalk chalk and screaming craziness in the supermarket. I want sugar crashes and ugly plastic toys from neighbors and a teddybear that cannot be washed.
I do not want my little pony, but I will cross that bridge when I must.
Leaves are starting to change color in the swampy spots and on the branches that are broken from last year's storm. It is odd to look out through the august haze and see red maple leaves falling. But I have learned that seasons overlap, that cicadas start to buzz and hum way before I am ready, and that not everything happens when I want it to.