Just Be Glad You Don’t Live In My Head

I remember when I was naive and thought all it took to get pregnant was having sex. I remember the days when I thought that all it took was carefully timed intercourse with ovulation predictors. I remember when I thought that charting my temps would definitely be “it”.  Then I thought for sure acupuncture would be the cure. I remember naively wondering if my doctor would maybe prescribe Clomid, and thinking, shit, it is so freakin expensive. Hahaha. I laugh about that now. Clomid. Expensive? If all I had needed was to pick up a prescription for Clomid to have a baby in my arms…Well, you know.

So here I am. 1 hour away from leaving for my FET consult appointment. I have no idea what they are going to do or say. I have no idea what is going to happen. All I know is that down there in the depths of that clinic, behind the smiling faces of the ladies at the reception desk and the nurses at their station, they have two little Grade AA embryos in a frosty little tube. My potential baby(ies). I get to go see what it will take and how long it will take to shut down my natural cycle and then plump up my uterine lining so that it becomes an attractive enough locale that these embryos may want to snuggle in for the next nine months. I have no adhesions, no scarring, no polyps, no fibroids. I am perfectly capable of getting pregnant. I am perfectly capable of carrying a fetus full term. So PLEASE G-D, I AM BEGGING YOU, give me at least one little emby free of chromosomal abnormalities. Give me at least one strong lil guy who WANTS to be with us. I will be happy with two. A little tired maybe, but ecstatic beyond words. Just please G-d, don’t take them BOTH away from me again. I want them so badly. I would bring them all into this world if You would let me.

My eyes are so puffy and irritated I couldn’t even put on eye make-up. My nose is stuffy and red. It is amazing what one little and even somewhat short breakdown can do to a lady’s appearance. So off I will go, puffy, no eye make up, and just to top it off, a nice little balsamic viniagrette stain down the front of my sweater. They’ve seen worse from me though, so I really don’t care. I just hope I don’t get the nurse who told me I was miscarrying. I hate her. Ok, I know those are strong words and that it is rediculous to feel such malevolence toward this nurse, but you ever hear the saying “don’t shoot the messenger”? Yeah, well there is a reason people say it. I am irrational, I am neurotic, and I hate seeing the face of the woman who told me that my baby was dying.

Anyway, enough of this depression BS. This day is about hope, right? Today is the day that I start the course of action that will put a baby (or two!) in my arms! (Hows that for positive thinking?? See? I’m trying guys, I really am!)

Oh, and on a different note, I have been following and reading so many people, and there are a few who are in need of a congratulations, and a few who are in need of hugs. I am thinking of and praying for all of you. Maybe if we all focus our minds on it, we can will it to happen?

And wait! A few of you have posted about wierd dreams. Here’s one for ya…last night I dreamt that I went in for my FET. I checked in like normal, everything was going fine until they told me they wouldn’t be doing the transfer at that location. They wrote down an address and told me I had to go there. Husband drove me to what turned out to be an old dilapitated house. I was afraid but didn’t want to screw up this FET so we went in. There was an old Spanish woman who said she was the doctor and led me to a bedroom. In the bedroom were four nurses with masks so big I couldn’t see their faces, that proceeded to do the Embryo Transfer, on a bed, with no ultrasound/imaging or anything. They wouldn’t let me see what was going on or tell me what was happening. They just kept telling me to shut up because they knew what they were doing. I left not knowing whether or not the embryos were actually transferred, and when I called my clinic they wouldn’t tell me anything other than that was how I had to have it done. It was just a tad bit disturbing.