Yup... I was just re-reading some previous posts. I remember being a very shy and reserved person. Heck, for most things I still am. What is it about infertility treatments that takes everything associated with them outside the realm of normal personality restraints and makes us want to share every tiny little detail? Is it the habit of dropping our drawers whenever we see a white coat... like Pavlovian training... we see the coat, we strip from the waist down? Is it a desperation to understand everything we're being put through and hopefully find someone else out there in the ether who knows what we're talking about? Is it a desenitization to such details as cervical mucous, nipple and breast tenderness, ovarian and uterine position, "cooter cams", etc.?
And why the hell am I wondering this? Oh wait... that's right... because I've given this URL to a few people who might not particularly want to know all those tiny little details. To them I say this... don't read any more... just take me out, but me a Second Cup white hot chocolate, and ask me what's going on. I'm much better and censoring myself when I'm actually talking instead of typing ;) Plus, this blog I started primarily for me... because I don't journal well... because I needed an outlet that I could use in those moments when I can't exactly pull out a notebook and start scribbling madly.
like now. It's Tuesday. I've got my beta on Friday. I've spent a week and a half telling myself that all the insanity is just "side effects" of all the varied meds I'm on (estrogen, progesterone, blood thinners, steroids... ). And I just about manage to convince myself, but then I get a new one that I just can't chalk up to it... but then the Mood Swing Express pulls in again and I swing from that vague hope to an absolute certainty that it didn't work this time... and what are we going to do now, because we did everything we should to have it work this time... the embies even looked better than either of the previous 2 transfers and one of those worked (ended badly, but worked)... and then I wonder should I just POAS and then I'd know... except that I wouldn't. Remember last time... + beta, but no + HPT until 5 days later... HPTs just aren't as sensitive, and they're yes/no... there's no grey area... there's no "well, it's over 10, but under 50, so it's positive but low, try again in 2 days and we'll see where the numbers go".
Gah... I wish it was Friday afternoon already so I'd know one way or the other. This waiting is driving me crazy.
In other news, I haven't had a good solid night's sleep since Tuesday of last week, so I'm a wee bit cranky... and tired... and queasy... and tired... and did I mention tired... and wobbly... and klutzy... and tired... and queasy... and tired.... and I'm repeating myself, aren't I?
Le Sigh.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
The beginning of this most makes me laugh! It's true that we will share our most intimate details with relative strangers, but I like to think it's relative strangers that maybe understand. What I find even more funny is that my embarassment at these particular details is gone and I catch myself telling far too much to friends IRL that normally I wouldn't share this stuff with. Oh, and my parents. You should see the look on my poor Dad's face when I'm telling he and my Mom about my cervical mucous and the cootercam. *Sorry, Dad*
Post a Comment