Geez, I've been a blogging slacker, haven't I? Of course there are the same old excuses: work is crazy (and will be until tax season's over), and I've been busy poking needles into my tummy.
The stimming has been going okay, at least from what I can tell. I have a few bruises, some hella crampiness, and the mother of all AF's won't seem to leave, but beyond that everything's good. Oh, there's also the crying at the drop of the hat. (On a sidenote-anyone watch Grey's Anatomy? The past 2 episodes I've been a blubbering mess, but this last one I cried through the. entire. episode. Hubby just sat there handing me tissues. He's a smart man, that one. )
Today is my only day to sleep in, because tomorrow I'll be at the RE's at 7 AM getting a vaginal u/s wand shoved up my vajayjay. Boy, doesn't that sound like fun?!? I want to know what masochist decided that 7AM on a Sunday was a good time for that? Would it *really* have been so bad if we waited until say 9 or better yet, 10?!? Let's chalk it up to another thing that sucks about IF. But I digress.
On the other hand, I've become quite good at the injections. My tummy's been so full and crampy (can't tell if it's because of AF or the Follis*tim), that I feel like if I bend over I'm going to pop a follicle. How silly is that? But it must be in the back of my mind, deep in my subconscious, because last night I didn't sleep on my stomach. And if you knew me, you'd know that I *have* to sleep on my stomach, or all hell breaks loose. So I woke up with a backache this morning from laying on my back all night. Hubby told me I should get used to it, because "when you get PG, you won't be able to sleep on your stomach at all." THAT is why I love my husband.
He's such an eternal optimist, and even though he knows the odds, the chances, and the statistics, he refuses to believe that we will not ever have our own baby. Sometimes I think his rose-colored glasses are the only thing that' s gotten me through the past 3 years. As an infertile, it's hard to have that hope for myself that "Yes, this WILL be the cycle". Negativity and doubt is so much easier than admitting that I'm hopeful too. That I would give just about anything to have our own precious baby. It's almost like admitting that I'm hopeful and I want this to be the cycle more than anything the world automatically sets me up for failure. So Hubby can be as naively positive as he wants, because secretly I'm praying and hoping that he's right.