It was cold this morning, 0 at my house, the kind of cold where you breath freezes in your nostrils. And wind was whipping snow up and around. As I passed open fields, snow was pulled up and dragged along and it looked like the fog that sometimes lifts from bodies of water and stands wispy and motionless, toes in the water, but this snow, this snow was racing along at breakneck speed.
Each night, the follistim injections are causing a bruise, and I have a rainbow array of them smiling around and beneath my belly button ranging from deep purple to yellow green. I have the bloat. I look like I am harboring two loaves of bread dough where my middle used to be. Again, I am used to squishy (I am squishy) but not quite like this. Bless Megan for telling me to inject more slowly, ahhhhhhh so much better. Still doing it in two shots, still worry when it beads at the surface. Still counting down, knowing each one is one less. It will all be fine.
I am ready for some reassurance that this is working. So
I go tomorrow for ultrasound and bloodwork, pray that all is working as it should, that I have follicles growing, none in the lead, enough of the right size, and that my E2 is appropriate for all that is happening in there. I want eggs in those follicles, eggs that can be retrieved soon and enough of them to feel we have a lot to work with, and that those eggs will fertilize well, and have plenty of perfect embryos to transfer and that one will be the kind of perfect that ends with me holding a perfect baby. I realized that in some weird way I expect this to work, need it to, wish it will, hope it will, in spite of all I know and have experienced. So, that is hard since I know that when it doesn't, I will have a long way to fall. On the other hand, I nearly expect it is not working, that we'll be canceled. Expecting this and expecting that, yeah, I guess my bases are covered. No matter what happens I'll be right. And wrong..
I am crazy actually.
I'll just blame the moon.