Here I am, on a plane, thinking, typing. I’m travelling to LA to visit my parents, brother, grandma and grandpa. I look forward to seeing them but hate being down there in the hot months The pacific northwest has shifted my temperature tolerance. I can wander around in shorts and a tee shirt when it is raining, windy and 45 degrees, I have photo proof of me in a tank top on the ski slopes, but get me over 85 and I get way too hot and cranky. I’ll do my best to consider the ninety degree heat as a “vacation.” I will only be gone for a week, so I’ll suck it up.
I have a tentative plan is to spend one day at the beach with my nephews and niece. I haven’t played in the waves in years. I used to love body surfing (couldn’t afford a board) and just swimming and jumping waves. Staying in the waves for hours, your body gets accustomed to the sway of the tide. When you go to bed that night, you can still feel the waves pulling and pushing you. A strange muscle memory that gently rocks you to sleep.
On the TTC front, I am 6dpo, so about the time I return home I will know if we were successful this cycle trying on our own “au natural.” I would love it if were were one of those magic couples who get pregnant before their next IVF cycle (I love those triumph stories) but I honestly don’t hold out much hope. I think the MF makes our chances so low (probably less than 5%) that I can’t bring myself to get excited any more. Anyone else feel like that? To top it off, in the last week I’ve had to tell about a dozen close IRL friends and family that no, we’re not pregnant and no, the IVF didn’t work, and yes we are going to try again and here’s what happened with the meds. I feel the need to explain why it didn’t work (beyond the chemical) and why it is OK to try again, despite the meds and hassle and costs. I know that I shouldn’t have to feel that way, but I do. I think it is my own screwed up coping mechanism. I am a tad frustrated at MrBeep who didn’t tell his folks anything and I got the excited MIL call yesterday, “So I was wondering when you are going to take a pregnancy test?” I stood there, feeling like I had been punched in the gut and finally replied flatly “I’m not pregnant.” <pause> “I assumed MrBeep would have told you.” I didn’t offer any details, no explanations. Generally speaking, everyone is very kind to me and they all say the right things (I don’t get much assvice, thank the universe). But it’s really hard not to get upset and and feel wounded and sometimes I just want to crawl under a rock and not emerge until I have some good news. I would have loved to had the opportunity to keep this all a secret just between me and MrBeep, but circumstances made it impossible. I fucking hate it sometimes. I am trying to figure out how to keep IVF #2 a little more under the radar, any suggestions?
OK. I’m shaking the darkness and cobwebs out of my head. I get to see my mom in about an hour, we’ll eat breakfast (LA = awesome breakfast burritos + fresh salsa) Cheering up now. Things are still fine, and there’s hope in them thar hills.