It's been quite a long time between posts, for my recent posting rate, at least. Two reasons. One is that I have had a huge amount to do at work. The second is that it's hard to find something to write about. I had a couple of thought-pieces I'd been thinking about to keep me occupied during the 2ww (the ethics of infertility, for example), but it's been hard to motivate myself to write them since my 2ww was so rudely interrupted. I will do eventually, but my focus just hasn't been there.
I have no new news on the cycle. The second blood test is tomorrow and I am hoping very hard that the beta will be zero. I think it will be. I have no particular reason to know that that is the case, but I'm chosing to see that as the most likely option.
It's been odd adjusting to the news that, at some point in the last two weeks, I was pregnant. That's a wierd thought. I've never seen a double line on the peestick, except for the time I peed on a stick after my hcg shot just to see what it looked like. I had never been pregnant. And now I have, just a little bit. You know, I never really appreciated the title of Julie's blog until now. I hadn't really thought about it, I'd focused on her story and her writing, and hadn't considered what the title meant. But now I get it, at least a little bit.
I haven't been unremittingly sad. I was a basket case on Tuesday, not in good shape on Wednesday, but suddenly on Thursday, after I'd recovered from the blood test experience, I was ok. I couldn't quite figure it out but while I was speaking to a couple of friends to tell them the news that evening, I didn't burst into tears and I was able to joke about it, a bit. Friday similarly. Then Saturday I got very sad again. It's all quite odd but I suppose it's just like any normal mourning process, it goes up and down.
Yesterday was a bit of a test as I spent most of the day in a review meeting. A lot of the junior women in our office are pregnant so there was much discussion about part time work and when they were all going and coming back. There was such cameraderie in the room as my colleagues remembered when their first child was born...I was ok for a while and then it started to really hurt. A club that it feels like I will never be able to join.
H has been sad, but he doesn't show it much. He cried, just a little tiny bit, on Tuesday with me. Then on Thursday when he was the one who listened to that phone message, I could see that he had been hoping that they would tell us that I was pregnant, and that he heard the message as if that was still a possibility, hope was still there. I had to disabuse him of any hope after I'd listened to it five times and realised that it almost certainly said the level was 'five' not 'fine'. He, of course, had heard the latter. Because Hope was in his ear. He got very sad again then. He'd been holding a little secret hope between Tuesday and Thursday, whereas I knew it was over when I started to bleed, or even before. I love that he keeps hoping, it keeps me sane. After being sad for a few days he's now back to being a little bit hopeful for the future. I do love him.
So to keep this post from being entirely one long whine, here are a few people you should go and see. S just found out her IVF (within a day of mine) didn't work. April's IUI didn't work. Megan, on the other hand, has some good news. So whether you're in a congratulatory mood, or a sympathetic one, you have a destination either way.