I am healing up pretty well. I had to snip a bit of stitch that was sticking out, but both lower incisions feel smooth and quite healed now. The naval incision still has a bit of a scab, but I do have a belly button again, which is quite nice. It is still a tiny bit swollen underneath, but far less than what it was a couple weeks ago.

I have 2 more birth control pills left to take. I’m expecting to get my period next Tuesday and start my protocol from there. Estimated transfer is June 9. And now that I have figured out when my last pill is and what my protocol schedule will be I will be closing all calendars and trying to not think about it. It worked well last time, and I’m hoping I can pull it off again… but it will probably be more difficult now, considering that last time worked. Sort of.

It is so hard for me not to constantly think about being pregnant again soon, like a carrot dangling in front of me. (Which is a stupid analogy since I’m not fond of carrots. Say, maybe, chocolate. Right now that fits very well.) But I am far, far too paranoid to actually let my mind really believe in that. I fully accept that it’s possible, but it’s also just as possible that it won’t happen… so I just can’t let myself anticipate it.

It’s especially hard with my co-worker being pregnant. Many times a day I’ll think, It’s okay, I’ll be pregnant soon, but that’s no guarantee. Then I start casting my planning net into the future… if this cycle doesn’t work, then when might I be pregnant? And what if that one doesn’t? And then I start panicking that I’m going to have to deal with yet another birth without me actually being pregnant yet.

I have what has turned into a huge spreadsheet for my IVFs. At first it was a fun thing to track, thinking about how I’d save all these special dates and info as a part of my baby book. And then it became necessity, just trying to keep up with everything. And now… now I do it, to keep it complete… to keep up… and to remember. This blog is a record of my emotional journey, it is the commentary… the spreadsheet is my journey in numbers: dates, medications, hormone levels, statistics. It is like this giant calendar of the last 2 years of my life. I look at it with both awe and such sadness. These are not the milestones I’m supposed to be keeping track of. This is not what my calendar was supposed to look like.

But regardless of what it was supposed to look like, it is what it is, and it’s a very nice record of my life. I am proud of what I have been through – still a little bit resentful that I had to go through it, but happy that I have survived. I feel like every mark on my calendar is like a badge. Not of honor, exactly… but more just, “I did that.”

It’s kind of like my Girl Guide badges. I worked hard for those badges, sewed them all on my sash. I was very pleased with them. But then later I sat back and thought, man… that was pretty useless. But at least I have these damn badges and I’m hanging them on my freaking wall.