This whole cycle, I have been incredibly one-minded, with IVF Redux consuming practically every waking thought and action. I have managed to get by at work, but have spent a great deal of time thinking and analyzing and twittering and obsessing over this cycle. It's supposed to be the one that works. The one that went well. The one that had so many of the good things happen during. The one with the embryo with practically outstretched arms reaching towards my lining. I've set pretty darned high standards in my mind, and now I'm terrified.
Let's recap how it all looked, m'kay?
- We didn't flip-flop on medication doses
- We had plenty of 17mm+ follies at trigger
- Our e2 only coasted for one day and didn't have a landslide at the end
- We fertilized 17 out of the 18 mature eggs, out of the 21 retrieved
- On transfer day, a blast was clawing its way out of its shell with another close behind
- On transfer day, only one of the 17 embryos had stopped growing
- I'm bribing the embies with sprinkle cupcakes, snickerdoodles, and a brownie
All of these are great things. And I'm not going to lie- I think it worked. I woke up to lots of broad uterine crampies 1dp5dt, and they lasted most of the day. I've had them on and off since. The rest of the "symptoms" I can blame on the progesterone and estrace tabs- sore boobs, heartburn, slight nausea when I eat too quickly. Other symptoms I can blame on going back to work- tiredness. And the dream I had Saturday night that I woke up to use the restroom at 3am at 3dp5dt and got a vivid BFP is par for the course- I have one of those dreams pretty much every transfer cycle. Still though, I just *feel* like it did.
Which means I'm setting myself up for a collossal fall of this pedestal if I'm wrong. I'm hoping and wishing and visualizing that I'm not, but still. I absolutely could be. I am overcome with the urge to test, because it could very well be positive at 9dpo. But it could also very well be a true negative, and it could very well be a false negative.
And so I'm also overcome with the fear of testing, as I don't know if I want to let go of this feeling yet. The feeling that it worked. That *I* worked. That I can, and am supposed to feel a child grow inside me.
Five days until the beta. *Maybe* two more mornings I'll be able to stop myself from peeing.
I don't want to feel like an idiot for thinking I'm pregnant, but I don't want to stop feeling it either. Sigh.
And on a lighter (ok maybe not *really* lighter) note, rest in peace Lonesome George, the last of your kind. Many of us in this community know what it feels like to be unsuccessful at reproductive attempts, so we feel for you and your lost genetic line. I'm glad I got to meet (ok take a photo of with a really zoomed in lens) you before you left us.
|We'll miss you, the last Pinta Galapagos Giant Tortoise|