There’s a lot I want to discuss in this post, so I’ll make each topic as short and sweet as possible (though most of you know, by now, that I rarely achieve either of those — that is, shortness or sweetness).
First — I have found some things to gripe about when it comes to my chosen fertility clinic. I think these things maybe warrant a post of their own some day, but I’m trying to let it all slide for now and not get too worked up over it. Partly because I haven’t been with this clinic long enough to know if their mistakes are a consistent pattern, and partly because I just don’t have the energy to make a stink about it or to go in search of a new clinic. But needless to say, I’m tired of having to do their job for them. Their latest boo-boo: when ordering me my Follistim, they forgot to order me a Follistim pen as well. I’m very new to this, but knew enough to recognize there was something missing in the box. It’s hard to do injectables with only a needle and no pen or syringe to actually assist in the injection. When I contacted the nurse, she blamed it on the pharmacist, but took care of it right away. I don’t know if a Follistim pen usually comes free of charge, but mine did. Two of them. And they sent them for Saturday delivery, which is usually a $50 fee, but it cost me nothing. I guess there’s something to be gained from clinic mistakes…
And for those of you dying to know, I’m still waiting for my period. It’s been exactly two weeks since I took my last Provera pill, and nothing yet. My temp remains elevated. Usually it will drop the day of or a day or two before I start bleeding. But today it went up. I think I’ve officially crossed over to the Worried Sick side of this. What could this mean? Anyone? Of course, I googled the heck out of it and there are lots of opinions. Almost everyone said that a period should arrive within 14 days of the last pill, some even said 7. There were only three women that I could find that had a different experience and didn’t get their period until 16, 19, or 21 days after the last pill. Really?! I mean, really? That would be so atypical for me, who has never before waited more than 10 days and even that was out of the ordinary. And I can’t wait that long! Another week??? I’m so desperate just to get on with it. I feel like I’m starting to lose my mind with all this waiting! My biggest fear, though, is not waiting another week…it’s that I have a cyst that is keeping my period at bay and which will then bench me for this cycle. I’ve had cysts before (sometimes painful ones), but they have never kept me from bleeding. In my google “research,” only two people mentioned this as a possibility, but it’s enough to freak me out. How likely is that outcome? I don’t know what to do, but if you have any input, I welcome it. I appreciate avoiding anything too “gloom and doom,” but if that’s where I’m headed, let me know. I trust you guys more than Google.
Finally, if you could not tell by the title of this post, I survived the weekend. I survived the shower. But damn, was it hard. So much harder than even I anticipated, and I didn’t know that was possible. I arrived about fifteen or twenty minutes early, which was a stupid mistake on my part. There was a handful of people already there (six? seven?) and I didn’t know anyone but my sis. She said hello and hugged me…and then proceeded to ignore me for the next hour and a half. Really. For someone who is as very shy and introverted as myself, this was difficult enough, without the compounded emotions that I was feeling in being there. So I quite truly became a wallflower. I leaned against the wall and watched as my sis went around talking to everyone else and they chatted with her about all things baby and kept putting their hands on her big belly. The lump in my throat was enough to make me nauseous and I spent a good thirty minutes regretting my decision to come. I so wish my sister would have come over, squeezed my hand, and asked if I was doing okay, but that’s just not her and I knew that long before I ever came. Eventually, things did get better. Friends of my sis whom I had met before arrived and came over to chat and her aunt wanted more details about how we found each other and then the food and games began, which oddly enough actually distracted me from my own pity party. And a big, fat piece of sugar in the form of cake certainly didn’t hurt in making me feel better, either. Sissy liked her gift and, just as she opened the last of her presents, my Honey texted me to say he was waiting outside and so I had a reason to leave. Before I went, I bid my sis farewell and asked to touch her belly…because I’m crazy like that. I don’t really know why I would want to do that, except everyone else was and I didn’t want to be left out. And while touching that hard, beautifully round belly of hers shattered my heart, it also maybe made me love that little baby a tiny bit more.
When we got home, I e-mailed my sis to let her know I had arrived safely and to thank her for inviting me to the shower. I told her I was sorry I couldn’t be the one to throw it for her and that I loved her. Those words aren’t something we say to each other often, but I felt they were appropriate. I wanted her to know that, while I hadn’t been the life of the party and kept very much to myself, I was trying to be there for her. I haven’t heard back from her, which hurts me to no end. I want to believe it’s just because it’s been a busy weekend, but I feel like I am constantly giving everything I have to improve and strengthen our relationship, only to hit a brick wall. But maybe I’m just being overly sensitive. It wouldn’t be the first time. After all, just last week, Sis was talking about taking a small getaway to somewhere nearby without our guys, this summer or maybe next winter. I guess we’re still just trying to figure out how this sister thing works. It’s not easy!
A few good notes about Saturday, though: I had a great road trip with my little family, lots of snacks and laughter and good conversation with Honey while my daughter quietly watched Sesame Street in the backseat. On the way home, we stopped for black licorice ice cream, which was a messy experience, but has left me with great memories, and fantastic photos. And I also saw this after the shower:
It’s not the best photo and was much more vibrant to see with my own eyes, but I had to share this. For those of you who have been reading my blog for a long time, you’ll know that I saw a rainbow (almost in the same location) on the day I learned I was pregnant with Teddy Graham. I have only seen one twice since then, always on a day when I needed it, and this time was no exception. It reminded me that there is still hope, and God is walking with me through it all — as is our beloved Teddy, forevermore.
I was planning to also talk about the church service I attended yesterday, but this post is already too long (sorry! sorry! sorry!) and I want to be able to devote the time and energy it deserves. Let’s just say…it was an annual church prayer service for infertile couples and it was something. For better and worse, it was something. Stay tuned!