It’s DPO9. I feel like last cycle’s DPO9 was just yesterday. I feel like it’s too soon to be preparing myself for the eventuality of failure yet again. I feel like I don’t have the energy or stamina to be doing this yet again.
I also feel less hopeful and less worried. As usually is the case with me, anxiety ebbs and depression flows. When the nervous energy of my anxiety is all used up I’m left exhausted and hopeless, feeling depressed instead of worried. That is where I am right now. Last cycle was all about hope and the anxiety that accompanies it. This cycle is all about hopelessness and the depression that feeds off it. Part of me, a big part of me, just wants it to be DPO14 so I can get my period and DPO14 can morph seamlessly into CD1 of yet another cycle and I can deal with the emotional fallout that goes with that transition.
I got my progesterone checked this cycle. I’ve been a little concerned that my temps have not been as high as they were pre- ectopic pregnancy. When I tried to get my progesterone test the cycle after my ectopic, I got confused about my O date (actually FF got me confused) and I actually ended up testing two days before AF. It was really low then, but since I was pretty sure I had pushed my O date back and had really tested on DPO12, I wasn’t too worried. Still, I like to know, I like to be sure. I missed last cycle because I had friends flying into town DPO7 and just didn’t think I could sneak away to Kaiser’s lab.
So Wednesday night I went in and got my arm stuck for the umpteenth time. There is an air of melancholy to that lab, at least for me. The only experiences I’ve had there were beta’s draws after my ectopic as I waited for my hCG levels to reach <2. I can look around the room and remember every chair where I stifled tears, every corner where I covered my face with tissues hoping desperately that people wouldn’t notice. I hate that lab waiting room. I hate the stations and the blue pillow where you place your arm and how they always ask for your name, even though they can see you match your photo I.D. and how you never know if it’s going to hurt or not until it already has. Going in there yesterday just reminded me that I’m still not pregnant, I’m still struggling to pick up the pieces after my lost pregnancy, I’m still not successful.
Anyway, getting past the pity party, my progesterone was 12.3. I remember my first level was 11.1 and I was told that was “okay”. So I guess 12.3 is also “okay.” Nothing special, but okay. I guess I should appreciate that I still seem to be ovulating and that my progesterone level is normal. Sometimes you have to be grateful for the little things.
Anyway, this was supposed to be a crazy weekend, with four people at the house and an insane football game. But Cal got trampled last Saturday and none of my friends wanted to come up and watch the same happen in person, so it’s just my good friend at the apartment, and my sister who’s seeing a concert in the park. I’m so thankful that this weekend was deflated. I’m so happy I’m not hosting so many drunk and desolate boys mourning the loss of yet another season of Cal Football. I’m so glad that I can get some grad school work done on Sunday. I’m so glad that Monday I won’t be a wreck.
I have an acupuncture appointment today. I’ll be asking her about the new development of constantly sore boobs starting at DPO2. I do not like this at all. Sore boobs drive me crazy (when they aren’t a pregnancy symptom) and I’ve been told they signal hormone imbalance so I guess my acupuncturist will be earning her keep again. I hope she’ll have something productive to say. I’ve felt lately like it’s all kind of pointless.
Well I know this hasn’t been a very upbeat post, but I promised I’d end every post with some Buenas Noticias so here goes…
Buenas Noticias – I was able to get to the lunch room relatively early and a mom had made my favorite baked treat – Golden Gram squares with chocolate and marshmallows. I had enough time to eat, chat, do my dishes and get back to my classroom without feeling rushed. That is always to be appreciated.
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