One year ago tonight was the last night I slept as a pregnant woman. One year ago I still thought everything was okay.

::

Everything I said last night still makes perfect sense – to use the insurance for stims and bank all the embryos we can for future use. I was planning in my mind for a May cycle – whether FET or stims.

When I walked in to the clinic this morning the staff was all sitting around in their receptionists area. I told the nurse that my period had arrived, and said I didn’t even know it could happen. She said it usually doesn’t – which implies that sometimes it does. I got my blood drawn anyways, just for closure’s sake.

The voice mail message later in the day confirmed the negative. Not surprizing in the least, considering I’d spent the whole day wincing against cramps. The message also gave me a little bit of info about a FET cycle… that, if we we wanted to, a FET cycle could be done right away. Like, now. Like, starting patches this weekend.

As much as doing a stims cycle makes sense… as much as waiting two months for a February due date sounds “better” to me… I am really fucking sick of waiting. I want a baby now. Fuck planning for after I have a baby. Fuck planning due dates. Look at right now. I am heartbroken, I am tired, I am just treading water. What could would 2 months do me right now? 2 more months of grief, of sitting around twiddling my damn thumbs and watching people get pregnant all around me.

One of the reasons this last cycle was not a massive failure, despite its poor outcome, is because of those frozen embryos. To me a FET feels like an extension of the original cycle. We get three tries for the price of one. And this is one of the reasons I was so adamant that we only transfer one. Transferring two embryos at once only increases your success rate slightly. But transferring one embryo at a time, twice, has a better chance of giving you a baby. And we had three out of one stims. So even though the first one, the fresh one, didn’t work, our chances of getting pregnant out of three transfers is pretty high. This is the thought that keeps me feeling positive and not so beat down and hopeless.

So for me – for now – we are doing an FET. It’s like getting a second chance at this cycle.

The one concern with an immediate FET is my vacation. I am finally getting to go home to visit my family, flights are booked, it’s all set. I leave March 30, for 2 weeks. (And let me tell you, it is a MUCH NEEDED vacation!) I did manage to get ahold of the nurse on my lunch break and ask her about it. She pulled out a calendar and counted out the days. It should be done before I leave, she said. No problems.

Which means, dear readers, that I have another transfer scheduled in 3 weeks.

It also means my entire my wait and testing will take place in Canada. I’m not sure what this will mean for a beta – if they’ll do one when I get back, just have me test with pee sticks… not sure. For me I think being away for that period will be really really nice. But to be honest I’m worried about my mom. If it comes out well it will be fabulous… but if it doesn’t? It’s not how I’d want to spend my time home. My mom is taking all of this VERY hard and I don’t want to see her all weepy. :(

Maybe we should wait. It’s definitely more my MO to wait and plan and make things align in the sky. For some reason I have my eyes set on a February due date, that “feels” nice and round and organized to me. But every time I think about waiting three months I just want to cry. So I’m not going to plan. I’m not going to crunch numbers. I’m not going to worry about where I’ll be for testing or the due date or how this will pan out down the road.

I’m taking a page from Den’s playbook and just going with it. When I brought up the whole future-children frozen-embryos thing to him he said simply, “We’ll figure it out when we need to worry about it. Who knows what will happen by then.” That’s always been how he’s seen life. Sometimes it drove me crazy (okay, still does a lot of the time). But sometimes it makes an aweful lot of sense.

Right nowe we just want a baby. Any baby. Any time. The sooner than better. So we’re jumping in with both feet.

I have a lot to talk about, since I’ve barely had time to sit and check my email in the past few days, so I’m going to have to split it up. I’ll talk about Devin’s birthday later, right now I’m just going to talk about my body and this cycle. Ohhh fun.

On the good side of things I am progressively losing weight. It’s not a lot of weight, but it’s noticeable for sure. I was plateaued at 136lbs, but now I’m down to about 133. Just as a reminder, I was 142lbs when I got pregnant with Devin. I haven’t been this low in over 5 years. The other day I was dressed in my work clothes and Den said, “You aren’t wearing that, are you? You look like Charlie Chaplin. Don’t you have any other pants?” I didn’t really – everything I own from the last 5 years is now too big and slipping off my butt. So I had to rustle around in my drawer and pull out some old old pants I couldn’t bear to part with (since I liked them so much). But they are a size 8, and, needless to say, I have been unable to wear them in a very very long time. Well… now they’re my only pair of pants I can wear to work. I need to go shopping. (Only problem is that they fit everywhere except the belly…. my pooch still makes them hard to close. But anything that fits my pooch sags off my ass. WTF annoying.) I’m feeling very happy with myself. Every time I step on the scale I think, “Wow! I really can do this!”

However the body is still not exactly the shape I would want. I’m losing weight from some areas – definitely my arms and face and boobs (sigh), even my butt… but not the thighs or belly so much. So it can be kind of frustrating. I want to get rid of the “spare tire” thing I still have going on…. but I don’t think that’s going to happen unless I really start working out, which brings up another whole set of problems. I might start swimming, since that’s something I can do even while in a two week wait or early pregnancy without freaking out that I’m hurting something. But still, despite those shortfalls, I may actually fit into a bikini this summer… at least among friends. That’s kind of crazy.

On the bad side of things my body is not exactly making me happy right now. During IVF#3 the nurse mentioned that if I didn’t get pregnant the period was probably going to be heavier than normal. I didn’t get pregnant, I got my period, but it was nothing remarkable. I thought nothing of it. Until I got my period after this failed cycle. Holy eff, man, this shit sucks.

First of all, cramps. And not the normal kind of cramps that I ever remember. Then there’s the bowel distress… I don’t even know how else to describe it. I know the nurse had mentioned that my left ovary was tucked behind against my bowel and might cause some lower back aches, but this is way beyond little aches. I am still having problems sitting in chairs… when I sit straight down I get this shockwave right up my tailbone through my bowel. A LOT of pressure… like when you get a wicked gas bubble. And it won’t go away! It has to be from everything pressing funny, but it is just so not fun and I would really like this to go away now.

Oh, and don’t forget the bleeding. Heavy bleeding, started Thursday, thrugh Friday and Saturday, and now continuing into Sunday. This may be normal for many people – not for me. I normally have piddly little periods. This is like a big fuckin mega-period. And it is getting really old really fast.

I’ve been thinking about how much my body has changed because of the pregnancy. I expected my lifestyle would change, I expected my mindset to change, I definitely expected my body shape to change. But I really wasn’t prepared for all the little things that are different now. My body just seems far more sensitive to, well, everything. Let’s just run through the list: I now have allergies to dust and cats, an allergic reaction to a medication, I majorly overstimmed on the same dosage as I took before with no problems, I’m getting sick from alchohol when I never did before, and hell, even my sense of smell is more sensitive than it used to be (which is saying a LOT). Sometimes I just sit in stunned silence and wonder whose body I got – because it’s obviously not mine.

Oh, and I started my FET protocol today: one patch. Man, this is so easy. No injections – none. It doesn’t feel like a real cycle.

So here we are, more than a year after that day. I’m not even really sure how I got here… it certainly doesn’t feel like it’s been a year already. And yet in some ways it feels like an eternity since that day… like a span of my whole life has passed between then and now.

I worked the whole week. I wasn’t entirely sure I would, but I figured I would just take it as it came. Wednesday was, by far, the worst day. That was the day I realized AF was hitting, and I spent the last hour of the day in tears. I thought to myself, if today is so bad, how is the rest of the week going to go?? I prepared myself for the worst. But, as is typical, it didn’t go as expected. Somehow, by the time Thursday rolled around, I had already processed most of it. I had been grieving the cycle’s end since Monday, so I guess it was easier for me by then. The beta was no surprize. And, in a way, it felt a little relieving that at least it was over and now I could move on.

But, as I wrote earlier today, this period has not been an easy one. Very heavy, very crampy, very strange in many ways. The cramping wasn’t the usual vice-grips, it was more… labor pains. It felt so familiar. I remember standing at the drive-up window on friday, watching a customer drive away, thinking that it wasn’t so bad, I was doing just fine. As I was thinking that, the car pulling forward revealed a carseat in the back seat, just as one of those labor pain cramps squeezed my empty uterus. Maybe not as well as I thought, the voice in my head said sadly.

I ran out of my normal pads, since it was so heavy, so I found myself digging around the closet for the package of pads I knew I had in there somewhere. I found them on the top shelf – big, thick pads. The ones I bought – and haven’t used – since my post-birth lochia. I stood there for a minute, holding them in my hands, thinking about how very ironic it all was. The timing of this all is just beyond ridiculous. It doesn’t feel sorrowful, though – just strange. Sad. A little bit of deja vu.

I was getting nervous by Friday afternoon, thinking about everything we had yet to do for the dinner party. I had gone shopping to buy all the needed food ingredients, as well as picking up a tablecloth, placemats and cloth napkins – I really wanted the evening to be… well, not quite formal, but not casual either. We don’t exactly host dinners very often. Or ever, really.

The evening did go very well, other than a few minor things. Hearing my MIL greet my neice was hard – I can dote on her all I want, but hearing others do it is always a little grating, especially on Devin’s birthday. The food was behind schedule so we ate later than planned. And we served steak, but didn’t realize BIL and SIL couldn’t eat steak on fridays during Lent (they brought fish, and it was no big deal). But all in all everything came out just fine. The men mostly were the ones cooking – shocking, I know. I did the cake and icing earlier, I organized everything and had recipes out, but then Den took the reins with BIL (who is a fabulous cook) giving him some help and instructions, and I realized I was just one extra person in the kitchen. So the women ended up sitting with the baby while the steaks cooked.

We obviously have a lot to learn about cooking and dinner parties – there were several times when I was really wishing I had Mrs. Spit in my pocket to refer to (note to self: pay more attention to Mrs. Spit), and I know it was far from perfect. But we enjoyed ourselves and it was a nice evening. I think we’d like to start entertaining more often, and I do think it was a very nice way to celebrate Devin’s birthday. Maybe we can make this a tradition.

The centerpiece I made.

And me with his gifts: his train, 2 angels, and a little sheep.

Happy birthday, my sweet boy. March 6 was a horrible day in so many ways, but it was the day we got to meet you. No matter what, I am your mama and always will be. I miss you – I will always miss you – but it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as it once did.

And just like that my period is over. Three nights of heavy heavy flow, this morning I woke up and there was… almost nothing. All day today, wearing large pad, waiting… for nothing. Tonight? Still only a little bit of spotting.

So there you have it. Heavy, assholish period, then bam it’s gone. Ummm… okay. Sure.

::

I am feeling blessed by the people in my life. It is strange for me to sit back and really try to take in the whole picture. Most people have friends, yes. And I do. But I have far more than friends.

I am thankful for the friends who have walked beside me for years, listening to my ugliness and nastiness, sharing in my laughter, and babbling about the inane.

I am thankful for the friends I have made through this rough time – whom I probably don’t keep up with as much as I should – but who still encourage me forward and think of me often.

I am thankful for the blog readers and aquaintances – yes, even you lurkers. I know you are there, and I feel your silent thoughts and prayers. And, yes, it matters to me. Thank you for taking precious time out of your day to read my thoughts, share my fears, hear my cries.

I know we humans like to classify things, including friendships, but my friends and aquaintances range the gamut. I have made friends through shared desires, shared fears, shared grief, shared hobbies. Some I am closer to than others, but I hope they all know that does not mean I care for them any less. You are all special to me. You all hold a place in my heart.

It is unfortunate in some ways that so few of my friends live nearby. But every time I read my forums, my email, my blog comments, I am reminded that I am so surrounded by the warm embrace of friendship. Anyone who has every said, “Just an online friend” is utterly, completely missing the point.

I haven’t been posting much because I’ve been so damn tired. I ended up taking a nearly 4 hour nap with the kitties today. It just feels so very comforting to fall asleep next to your hubby, two kitties, and two dogs (though the dogs were kind of confused about why were falling asleep and couldn’t we pay attention to them now?). I said to Den, “Our house is never short on love.” And it’s true.

I am continuing the FET protocol – I just got the full instructions in the mail. I put on 2 patches tomorrow instead of the one I’ve been doing. Ooooo. 2 patches! Not sure I can handle this. Ahaha. I love FETs. It’s a damn vacation, is what it is.

But then Den asked me today out of the blue, “So… is it possible that they go to un-freeze the embryos and we walk in there and they say they didn’t make it?” Not sugarcoating anything I just said “Yep.” We sat in silence for a minute and then he pointed out, “We can never relax during any of this, ever, can we.” No… no we can’t. That is so sad. But I like to try to not worry about things like that.

2 weeks to transfer. In a normal cycle I’d be starting stims now. Instead I think I’m just going to go back to sleep.

I know I’m still on estrogen, so maybe that’s why everything is still all weird. Maybe my sense of smell has evolved. Maybe my body chemistry has changed from the pregnancy. All I know is that I take a shower every morning, I have not been running or exercising (oops), but by the time I go to bed I just keep wrinkling my nose at that smell. And don’t even make me go there after I wake up from night sweats (which I have also been having with some frequency). I clamp the blankets down around my shoulders and do not, under any circumstances, lift them.

But then, maybe it’s not me – or rather, not that my body scent is stronger. I’m still really noticing other smells as well. Dealing with customers… well, you know how it is. But it’s other things too… the smell of dog, the smell of garbage. I’m being assaulted with stinky things.

The smells thing is not new to this cycle, it’s been ongoing, but some other things are. I mentioned the strange bowel pains I was having after transfer, I attributed that to the bloating and such. Well, it’s still happening. I’m getting frustrated, because everything should be back to “normal” by now. Granted it’s not quite the same kind of discomfort as it was with all the bloating, this feels more like gas pain. When it happens, though, it doesn’t rightly matter what it is, it just hurts. Sharp little stabby pains through my tailbone. I’m at a loss. What the heck is different now than before a month ago? The only thing I can think of are the iron pills – I bought a different brand. And I know iron can cause upset stomachs, but sharp gas bubbles? And it’s not like I’ve been taking them consistently, anyways. When I don’t take them I definitely notice a difference in my body temperature… but no difference in the gas bubbly pain.

::

I am feeling a lot of relief that the last cycle is over. In many ways just getting an answer – though it was the wrong one – at least was an answer. It let me breathe again. I’m either pregnant or not pregnant, and I can deal with either of those… but the in-between not-knowing is just plain aweful.

There are a lot of things to enjoy about the first half of a cycle, when I don’t have to worry about the embryo-that-may-become-a-fetus:
* I can drink alchohol when I’ve had a bad day… or when I just really want one
* I can eat whatever I want without worrying about listeria or toxoplasmosis or whateverthefuck
* I can bump into things or squash my stomach against a counter without worrying for the next hour
* I can bounce and run and ride rollercoasters (okay, so they’re still closed – but I could)
* I can lose weight without worrying that I’m not eating enough nutrients

Basically, I can just live my life without over-analysing every single moment for how it may affect implantation and a possible baby. And I know that normal people don’t spend their “pre-pregnancy” weeks over-analysing and worrying. But we’re far beyond being normal people in this. We have seen too much, had too much happen to us, to blithely believe that things will just work out without some help. I think there will always be the fear that something we did or didn’t do somehow affected the outcome. And it’s not that I want to live my life being paranoid – but I guess it’s the “better safe than sorry” mentality. I would like to avoid all possibility of giving myself something to feel guilty about. If I lived my life as best I could, followed all the rules, then at least I know I gave it my best shot. At least I know it wasn’t anything I did.

I am really tired of all of this, but I know I can’t take time off. It is extremely frustrating to me that my entire life has been taken up with this. For years. And it will probably be another several years. We’ll keep doing IVF until I get pregnant, then I’ll be pregnant, then I’ll be nursing, and then we will want to get pregnant again somehow as soon as my body is ready. Is that ideal for my body? No. I recognize that. But I also recognize the fact that my husband is going to be 43 this month. Whatever children we want to have will need to come in the next 5 years or they will probably not come at all… we want to raise our children, help put them through college… and, you know, someday my husband would like to actually retire. At least the pregnancy part is enjoyable for me… I definitely have that to look forward to.

I just feel so jealous of people who can just decide when to get pregnant. They get breaks. They go from “not at all pregnant” to “pregnant.” There is that clean line for them, it’s easy. For me, for the rest of us… we’re stuck in between. Every month we might be. And every month that we’re not it just drags out longer, until you’re years down the road and you don’t even remember what being “not pregnant” even feels like anymore. Yes, these two (three) weeks are a bit of a relief, indeed.

It is very weird to think about how we are currently living in a recession. You hear stories of how things once were and it just sounds so different than this. People are still buying groceries and going out on dates and having babies and most of the normal things people do. Especially here in western Mass – there are definite effects of the recession, but it’s not quite as obvious for us here as it is elsewhere in the country. But in someways you just think… I thought it would look or feel different. Instead it just feels like… life. Like during infertility or grief, a concept that before seemed so foreign and “different,” and suddenly one day you’re in the middle of it and you’re still staring at the same ceiling, laying in the same bed, wondering how on earth life could be the same and yet so very different.

It is hard to watch the new president – no, it’s hard to watch the comments and criticisms. I think some people expected Obama to come in and solve all the country’s problems, and I feel like that is just so unfair. I do wonder about a lot of his decisions – the bailouts and spending. Is it right? I don’t know, I’m no economist. But I know one thing for sure: it’s not going to magically fix everything. Nothing will. There is no magic reset button to reset all the damage that has already been done. Sometimes I think maybe this is just part of the economic life cycle… that there will be periodic crashes, just as there will be periods of great prosperity.

The one thing that really boggles my mind is wondering where does the money go?? I admit, I know very little about stock markets and economics. I am really struggling with this concept of disappearing money. Apparently right now no one has any. The companies aren’t making money, so they’re laying off people, who therefore don’t have money to spend, and they’re not making much so the government isn’t getting as much in taxes, so they are laying off government workers and teachers to try to cut their budgets to match their income… and so on and so forth. It’s a horribly frustrating cycle. And yet a couple of years ago everyone had money, no one was getting laid off. So where did it all go?? “Money” has become this etherial concept. Even though I work with money every single day, in my hands, constantly being balanced. Every penny is accounted for, in and out. So yes, this idea of disappearing money just boggles my mind.

I never could quite understand the concept of unemployment. I mean, I do in the macro sense: there aren’t enough jobs, so people are unemployed. I get that. But… see, here’s the thing…. not having enough jobs should be a GOOD thing. It should mean that we have to work less hard to get all the things we need. It means that we, as a society, have less work to do. To me that means we should have to work less, and have more time off, and have all the same things! But obviously that’s not how it works in this world. Somehow, even though us humans as a society have made everything easier to accomplish, we individually work harder than we used to, and let a huge percentage of our population have nothing. I just don’t get it. I guess I just figure we should share more. On one hand I totally understand wanting to be rewarded for hard work, and I understand that some people do abuse anything they are given. But on the other… I absolutely hate seeing multi-billionaires with more money than we could ever dream of while families go hungry. I just can’t comprehend that such a successful country fails on such a basic level as keeping its citizens clothed and fed.

We are lucky, Den works for the military and has a very secure job. Mine less so, but mine don’t really matter – other than the health insurance, if I lose that it’s a problem. So we’re kind of outsiders… we see what’s going on all around us, but our lives are probably not going to be too directly affected. I guess it’s one break we’ve been given in this shitty time.

In some ways I feel a little strange trying to have a baby when things are so rough in the world right now. But I know we will never be able to promise our children a perfect life without struggles and hardships. I know, better than most, that life is simply what you get, and that you have to make the most of it. But still, it feels odd. Will my child someday say, “I was born in the midst of the worst recession in decades”? Will it even matter?

First of all, part of the whole money/economic thing was explained to me by my husband: it never really existed in the first place. I really don’t understand stocks any more than I used to, but it all just seems like make-believe to me. Make-believe that can have horrific consequences for the rest of us who live in real money we actually want to spend.

Second of all, AIG?? O.M.F.G. You have got to be KIDDING me. Those fucking ASSHOLES. I am so freaking inflamed my head may burst really soon. How fucking arrogant do you have to be to go on a huge executive spa resort with the first bailout money, get totally blasted for it, and then give bonuses to the assholes who fucked up in the first place?! I am simply gobsmacked. I hope like hell someone finds a way to throw them in jail.

We were listening to a piece on NPR this morning about the homeless city of tents on the bank of a river in Sacramento. It has always been there, but in the past year has grown significantly. Most of these people had homes, cars, jobs… you know, were “normal.” They weren’t poor, they weren’t homeless. But then they lost their jobs and couldn’t find a new one. They lost their houses, their cars. Now they’re living in a tent on the bank of a river with a bunch of other homeless. And the Mayor? The Mayor said some words about how he has compassion, etc etc, but then said, “But eventually we must adopt a zero tolerance policy.” Excuse me? Zero tolerance for being homeless? Or zero tolerance for being homeless and very visible and drawing national attention to your city? Maybe what he means and what I heard were totally different things, but my kneejerk reaction was, “Fuck you.”

It makes me very sad and very frustrated when I hear people saying about how we need to go into [insert country here] to overthrow the evil government there and free the people there, or how we need to take in immigrants from countries that are far worse off than our own (and I say that as an immigrant to the U.S.). I realize it’s a very noble thought, and if we had the resources and ability I would love to help everyone in the world who needed our help. But how can we be so concerned about people in other countries when our own is in such dire straights? Yes, it’s selfish. But damnit, our own citizens are suffering. We haven’t even figured out how to make sure all our residents are fed and housed and have medical care. How freaking sad is that. How can we be so rich, and yet so very poor?

Today on one of my forums the question was asked of the group what cycle day we were on. And I said, ummmmm… the first half… somewhere. Maybe day 10? I had no clue. And I really didn’t want to look it up either. I kind of like not knowing. I know what I have to do tomorrow and the day after that… and, yes, I know what day transfer will be on (assuming all goes as planned – not exactly putting all my cards down yet)… but past that? Eh. I take it week by week.

So it was a bit of a shock when I looked at my calendar and realized my transfer is NEXT WEEK. Yes. Seriously. WTF. And then I started getting twitchy and I’m trying hard to return to not thinking about it. Because, really, there’s no point in thinking about it. And besides, I have so much to do before my [very very needed] vacation (which starts three days after transfer).

::

I’m not sure I can even describe what kind of mental space I’m in. I’m bitter and hurting, I can tell you that. Not crying kind of hurting, just moody, grouchy. Just ask Den, he can tell you.

I crave contact with people, but at the same time I’m intentionally isolating myself. It appears to be one of those online baby booms, and I really really thought I’d be a part of this one, this time. So every time I log on to my various forums it’s with some measure of trepidation. It’s not that I’m angry at those who are pregnant – far from it. But every time I read some kind of congratulations or pregancy or birth anything I get all hung up on how that’s supposed to be ME right now, goddamnit. I’m angry at the unfairness of it all.

I know this is just temporary. I know it’ll get better once I regain my composure, regain my hope. It’s not like I’ve given up or anything. I’m just in a pissy mood, that’s all. I even tried reconnecting with an old hobby, and that pissed me off too.

I think right now I just can’t win. So I focus on my daily to-do list (that has NOTHING to do with babies) and my work and keep trudging forward with my head down. I figure I can just walk into my transfer like a pole I didn’t see coming… it could hurt just the same, but at least I won’t see it coming, and so won’t have time to panic.

I have a feeling that if I went through this entire blog and tagged all the angry posts there would be a whole lot of “anger.” Now I realize that the estrogen I am on is making me a little cranky. But I am in a PISSY ASS MOOD.

I finally got around to calling the nurses today. They wanted to go over the protocol with me when I got the instructions in the mail, but work has been… well, busy. And, you know, I was not obsessing. When I am not obsessing over something it tends to slip my mind. (To offset the obsessive personality, I also have a terrible memory. Unfortunately this kind of means I get extremes of one sort or the other.) But the instructions were pretty simple, I already know my transfer date, I’m taking the correct number of patches… I just wanted to see if they needed to see me for anything.

The first answer is: yes, they do need to see me for an ultrasound on Saturday morning to check my lining before starting me on progesterone and preparing for transfer. That’s fine.

Oh, and, they haven’t submitted to insurance yet, so they’ll start that today as “Urgent” and hope it gets processed in time.

I hung up after listening to the message and basically said, “$$#@%@%@!!” You have got to be KIDDING me. I know they were expecting me to call last week to go over protocol, but they knew I was doing the FET!

Know what I’m most pissed about, though? The one thing that has me nearly in tears of frustration? That I was trying to – and succeeding! – not stress. To take it nice and easy, not think about it, it was going to be nice and simple and problem-free. And I get kicked in the ass. In a way it feels like this is a punishment from the universe for daring to stop worrying and not stay on top of things.

Will this likely all work itself out? Yes, probably. If they could pull off the December cycle, then chances are this one will work out too. But it’s not a given. Nothing is a given. And it infuriates me when I keep being reminded of that fact – as if I don’t already know? Can’t I just rest in naive bliss for a couple of damn weeks and pretend that this process is easy?

The other part of the conversation today revolved around progesterone. The nurse mentioned that normally their protocol is IM progesterone for FETs… but at the same time she said it was up to me, whatever I was more comfortable with. That was rather confusing to me and Den. So I called back to get some feel for why they prescribe PIO for FETs but not for stims cycles. The answer was basically that they do it “Just in case,” but have no data to suggest it works better. Plus add in the fact that I’m going away for two weeks, half of which is not going to be with Den, my injection-giver, and I’ll be doing prometrium again.