Or I wouldn't currently weigh MORE THAN I DID ON EGG RETRIEVAL DAY.
Yes, I said it. I have managed to gain weight during a time where it should be falling off my mid-section, one empty follicle at a time. Really though, how does one actually expect that to happen when they eat like they're growing triplets, but the only thing going on down there is a shrinking barrel of cysts?
Don't get me wrong. My feelings were delicious. The holiday candy, the large servings, the godknowshowmany bottles of wine. And hot damn they were necessary! These past four weeks post-BFN have been a bit of awful followed by less awful followed by GOOD GOD HOW DID YOU THINK YOU WERE OK AGAIN awful. The less awful was spent with family over the holidays, a blissful ten days where I could bitch and moan about my horrible period, pop a BCP, and bury myself in playdates and Christmas cheer. And 80-degree weather (thank you Los Angeles).
The awful awful hit this week, as I think it does for many people post-holidays. In my case, the post-holiday depression wave collided with the post-vacation depression wave, which then collided with the here's-your-fet-calendar-because-ivf-failed-wave. Those of us who remember our physics know that when waves collide, they can sometimes cancel each other out, but with my luck? The amplified into a tsunami of grief that I just kept feeding.
It ended in me crying at the movies last night. Seeing Sherlock Holmes. Which I assure you, is not a sad movie. Though I cry a lot at movies, this was a new low, even for me.
I'm not going to feed it anymore.
I'm going to be ok.
I'm going to get pregnant. (eventually)
I'm going to stick to my healthy living/eating resolutions. (more on how THAT's going later)
I'm going to get through this.