Sunday, 10 September 2017

Tired by waiting.

My favourite poem is "If" by Rudyard Kipling.
One of the lines goes: "If you can wait, and not be tired by waiting.."

It's a wonderful poem. It has helped me through many difficult hours.

However, I am now feeling myself getting tired by waiting. A lot of other feelings also, but tired is one of them.

Saturday's result from the embryo transfer was not the desired one. As I only had the one embryo, another cycle of IVF is required.

I think I did the 2 week wait ok. I managed to say sane most of it.

I kind of knew before Saturday. The two pee tests I took were negative. "Oh don't worry, it could be too early", I said to myself.

Friday, I was hit with the unmistakable punch of the PMS. I was aaaaaangry. Saturday morning, despite having a few niggling cramps, I retained a smidge of hope. I went at the crack of dawn to get the blood test before I went to crossfit. Alas, they stuffed the pathology slip and I had to wait - again I was tired and impatient with waiting. I took my frustration out on my back squats - I PB'd (60kg x 5).

My dear friend met me for lunch. I received the phone call with the news. The nurse was nice. They probably get all reactions, from the matter-of-fact to the abject sobbing. I was much more on the matter of fact end of the spectrum. I discussed what I would do vis a vis the next cycle. I rang off and sat back down with my friend. She reached out to touch me and I replied with "Do not. I will lose my shit here if you touch me." My fella, who was teaching, texted me. I called him back. On hearing his voice, my thin veneer of being ok fell to bits, and I did an ugly cry, on the phone, on a sunny street in Northcote.

Aunty Flo came on day 28. Bang on schedule.

I have been tired, sleeping a lot, the last couple of days. Sleeping is a good way to slip the brain into neutral, to switch off the anger and other negative emotions.

Today, Monday, I don't have any scheduled sessions, but I usually do admin and research, then go to a meeting. I did none of that today. I went to crossfit and did a long, tough workout, plodding through it slowly to the finish. It was what I needed. I have not yet taken to bed today, though that may change, as I still have the tireds.

I have the angries also.

My womb was presented with a nice shiny euploid normal looking embryo, and supported with progesterone. It had ONE JOB. Instead, my reproductive system just acted AS THOUGH NOTHING HAPPENED; the HCG was UNDETECTABLE on the blood test. My womb made no attempt to be hospitable, it just went "PATOOOEY" to that precious little embaby.

It has been THREE YEARS too. Three years of cyclical hope and disappointment. Of hair falling out, acne, epic PMS. Of watching EVERYONE getting pregnant, seemingly with no problem. Of it being hard to plan anything else. It's not been miserable, there have been good times, but it's been a long time coming.

Being a planner, I am going to take the month off fertility treatment, and start the stims again next month, after speaking to my doc about how we might improve the ova haul this time.

We are going up Port Douglas way in November, something to look forward to. Also I am thinking of getting a new car, or leasing one. My i30 has been disappointing. It is still under warranty and doing all sorts of annoying things and I am sick of its shit. I need a sweet set of wheels. Anyone got any recs?

Sunday, 3 September 2017

Yes to.

You know what I think about the whole "think positive" thing. Our thoughts are our thoughts. They change.

Positive behaviours are far more powerful, I think. A meter by which I can say: "I am doing OK".

Hence, these past few days, I have been saying yes.

I've been saying yes to the hairdresser just doing what she wants. Blonde foils to amp up the vibrancy of the red semi-permanent. Going a bit shorter than what I might have. I quite like my hairdresser. She is Kiwi, and Kiwis are good.

I said yes to catching up with my fella and dog at the pub. Even though I have instructions to keep my alcohol minimal. I said yes to catching up with my Singaporean brother from another mother. His sister was in town, from Singapore.

I also bought some Singapore orchids.

I said yes to patterned activewear bottoms. Not black. Bright and flowery.

I said yes to a running workshop. My running style can best be described as injurious interpretive dance. I had that looked at, and learned some new tricks to make my stride more efficient.

I said yes to staying at home this Monday morning. Monday is my "day off" but I usually go in to do some admin/research, and attend a meeting in the afternoon. This morning, I have crossfitted, then stayed at home, where I said yes to baking and dinner prep. It's soothing.

I said yes to having a bit of a bawl yesterday evening. Father's day this year was hard. My father and grandfathers are long dead. We have not been able to make a father out of my fella. There were many kids and hipster dads around yesterday. Usually it doesn't bother me at all, but this time it was hard. It could be partly attributable to the "progesterone flu" (my terms).

I said yes to taking some photos of what I've been doing, but blogger said no to uploading them. Stupid program.

I am going to be saying yes to taking care of myself this week, doing what I need to, to get through. Big blood test/moment of truth on Saturday.