School got a bit hectic over the last couple of weeks, hence the radio silence from my end. But I think I’ve come back up for air again…at least for a while. And I’m really looking forward to just kicking back and relaxing this weekend.
I’m feeling really good. I think the last time I noticed any sort of discomfort from the incisions was last weekend. I’m back to climbing stairs and taking my usual length of stride (which is a huge relief for Q. as we’ve fallen into step over the course of our relationship and he found it very strange to have me suddenly taking lots of little steps).
But what I haven’t done is gone back into the clinic. I was waiting until I felt really good- I didn’t think I could face sticking needles in my belly while it still hurt. And then I thought I’d better ride out the uni madness.
I’m out of excuses now. So I’ll probably go in on Friday, get some pro.vera and start the ball rolling again. I think there are a couple of reasons why I’ve felt reluctant. The first is that I really really don’t want a Christmas baby (and yes, I recognize that this is possibly the stupidest reason in the world, and I should be well past the stage of trying to schedule or control when I get pregnant, but what can I say? It is SO HARD for me to relinquish control). Christmas is always big and messy in my family, and adding another birthday into the mix just seems so chaotic and overly complicated. And stressful. I wouldn’t look forward to it. So I will admit to sitting on the clinic to let a few more days go by. And, having just looked up due dates, I’ve realized that I need to sit on a few more days to really get past the 25th. (I know I’m dumb. Humour me, ok? Really, I don’t want a winter baby, but I’m not interested in taking the four months off ttcing that would be required to guarantee that I could avoid snow on my due date.)
The other part of me that’s all for delaying is the cynical, frightened, ambivalent, resigned part of me that thinks as long as I don’t start a new cycle, it can’t fail on me too. Even though we have an explanation for why the IUIs weren’t working, I still feel like we’ve been through this before. We had the PCOS. The thyroid. The failure to respond properly to Clomid. But we cracked it. Pu.regon is my type of drug. My ovaries loved it. And yet, three IUIs later, and suddenly we’re talking about a new factor.
So that part of me likes the sudden optimism (idealism, really) that I heard in my specialist’s voice when he rang me after the surgery. It likes the idea that I could be this close to pregnancy- one more round with the needles. A few more blood draws. A few more bruises.
I’ve found myself getting excited it all- something that I haven’t been for some time now. The last cycle I was just going through the motions. I knew it wasn’t going to work.
Now I think it might. And I’m not sure I’m ready to revisit my sense of failure.
So I sit on it. I heal. I take some deep breaths. I worry about all the other things in my life.
Maybe I’ll go back in on Friday.