Waiting, waiting, waiting. After finally finishing up Day 34 of a really screwed up cycle post the FET last month (Lupron and progesterone), I purposefully typed a post just so my period would finally come.
This last month began with a scan on Day 2 that showed everything was normal, uterine lining was 2mm and antral follicles were 4mm. (Hooray! Small mercies!) A scan on Day 8 showed that antral follicles were 5+mm (uh-oh, totally wrong!), hence my ovaries might be in statis, and it might be an anovulatory cycle.
The BBTs were all over the place and OPKs were all negative so I just didn't bother since we were travelling. The Day 27 scan showed uterus lining at 14mm, which is thick, as expected pre-period but then the end of the month came and went and nothing happened. For the last couple days, I have been feeling like I'm carrying tomatoes around in my belly, it feels bloated with gas and slightly crampy.
Long story short — cue an unfulfilling and unsuccessful fertility month.
Finally, the tomato bag burst and in this new cycle, I've had to go on the BCP for a new transfer or a stim cycle. Although I haven't been on much meds in the last couple months, it has been overshadowed by the tedium of just waiting on… nothing. Nothing because if your cycle is screwed up, because if you're on the pill, nothing's going to happen. More months of the tedium of waiting, of being tired of just waiting.
If I sound tired, frustrated, just dead resigned, it's because I am. Part of me is just hardened to this process of having to wait. I no longer measure my time in pre-baby terms. It still seems unreal, but I am aware again, of time as a continuum.
Lately, I've been jokingly calling the baby-maybe process "my second job". This sounds flippant, but when it involves as much time and patience as we've had to put in, it's not so far off the mark. That time and effort is also, certainly, what prevents me from truly getting a second job.
I don't necessarily manage the two I have very well. I am getting better at managing generally, but it is still shaded sometimes in dread. Like today. I sat down at the study table and in front of me were three documents, the first was paper on which the contacts of doctors in CCRM (the Colorado Center of Reproductive Medicine) and Bangkok Fertility were written. The second, was the medical section of a home study application for adoption and the third, was a series of bills in the mail to be paid for the financial management, as well as my cousin's wedding invitation which wouldn't you know, falls smack on an inconvenient cycle date.
Like, dread. I sat there and wanted to throw them all away, because I am so sick of them all. But I can't because, well, because it isn't resolved. When there's life at stake, I guess you just keep ploughing on.
That is not to say that I don't procrastinate. I haven't made the calls, I've let emails languish in my inbox. I haven't replied to sponsors or job searches or contacted our Singapore doctor to say we won't be pushing on with the down regulation for a transfer next month.
I would often just sit there for hours and count, instead, how many months we've actually tried without IVF, without meds, and without the effect of both before and after those cycles. It is unbelievable to me that after all this, I would rather use the time to reminisce and indulge in denial.
Then I think to myself, isn't this how life is after kids too? In fact, isn't this how life is, always? It isn't the absence of trials and mundane documents. It is the staggering to-do lists of school enrolments and homework and school pick-ups and day care and sick feeds and groceries and yes, doctor's appointments.
Sure, some of my to-do list sometimes feels negative, or doubtful, or extreme, so it makes it hard to feel positive and novel or excited in this realm, but maybe it's also just, realistic. Maybe it's just get-off-your-ass-work-harder-be-efficient-go-running-lose-weight real.
When I'm at work and can get off early or have a half day away from work, I am thrilled by the freedom and lack of crowds. When I'm at home for too many hours, I find myself wasting the time and mourning the efficiency of a desk. Either way sometimes, I feel cut off and drifting, a weird feeling. I wonder if that's a common feeling with women who stay home by themselves or with children. The present doesn't negate the constant need to plan for a future or react to the past. I'm the same as I always was, just with a different context of time and decisions.
