not much to say

I have a hard time thinking of things to say just now, in light of Sprogblogger's and Mo and Will's recent losses. I feel like the unworthy winner of some really big, life-altering prize. I did nothing to earn this or to deserve it any more than they did. And any minute now, this pregnancy could be taken away. I have an u/s scheduled for tomorrow morning, at precisely the 8-week mark. I hope to clearly see the heartbeat again, and to learn that little Ishka has caught up with expectations after measuring a day behind at the first u/s.

I had toyed with the thought of telling a few more people if tomorrow goes well, but that was before I heard about Susan and Mo & Will. They were farther along than I am. I'm older than they are. We're not telling anyone else until Labor Day, at the earliest. I'll be a few days short of 12 weeks at that point. I guess there's really no point at which this becomes a sure thing, but the longer I'm pregnant, the more attached I become to this life growing inside me and the more support we'll need to handle a loss.

But, that's enough dwelling on the bad side of what-if. This might work. I'm still enjoying constant morning-sickness. Not the earth-shattering kind. I just feel like I'm going through the longest hangover I've ever had. Food in general is not at all appealing, but I only feel normal while eating. I haven't the patience nor the stomach to actually cook anything, so I filled the freezer with frozen meals. I realize now why I never bought saltines before- I just don't like them, but I've munched them dutifully when the thought of popping another preggie pop drop in my mouth was more unsettling than the flavorless crunch of the cracker. I ordered a variety of ginger candies, which should have arrived yesterday, but FedEx has no record of picking up the shipment so who knows when I'll actually see them. I sent a pathetic appeal for expedited shipping to the company yesterday, explaining that morning sickness + pregnancy hormones = me crying when there was no package for me. They haven't responded. (Just checked FedEx- the package was finally picked up and should be delivered next week... I guess my appeal fell on deaf ears.)

And to end on a truly positive note, IrishNYC gave birth to a beautiful, red-headed baby girl last Thursday. This does sometimes work. IFfers do sometimes see dreams come true.

tougher than I expected

Yesterday was rough.

I had my first encounter with the dildo-cam, which wasn't as bad as I expected. The tech, however, would not tell me what she was looking at or looking for. Even though she left the images on the screen after she was done and I had plenty of time to stare at them while I dressed, I have no idea what, if anything, I was seeing. Apparently, all was well because I got a call from one of the nurses in the mid-afternoon letting me know I should start the gonal-f that night. The nurse seemed rushed, and my cell phone reception is lousy at work, so I didn't get to ask what they'd looked for on the ultrasound, or what they'd seen. I go back on Monday for "bloodwork only." I'll be more aggressive then and will find out just what they're looking for and what my results are.

That was the easiest part of the day.

My husband's dog, E, turned 19 on March 20th. It's hard to explain the relationship between a man and his dog, and since I know I won't do it justice I'll just say they were close. They were together for almost all of C's adult life, through some mighty significant ups and downs. His demise was swift. He stopped eating on Monday; stopped drinking on Wednesday. Yesterday, he stopped moving all but his head. So yesterday, we took E to the vet for the last time. We have an extremely compassionate vet's office. We sat with E for nearly an hour until C said it was time to let him go. We didn't want to leave E alone, but we couldn't stay and watch her administer the anesthesia, so the vet came into the room as soon as we said we were ready, and gave us as much time as we needed to say one last good bye. It was a sad, sad day.

That was the hardest part of the day.

Then it came time to administer my first shot from the gonal-f pen. It's a nifty gadget, and I know from reading other blogs that the needle is so thin I would hardly feel a thing. But I just couldn't bring myself to pierce my own skin. I pricked myself a couple of times, but just couldn't do the deed. I finally had to call C into the room to do it. It didn't hurt. I felt almost nothing. I hope I manage it by myself tonight. No side effects yet, but I've only had one dose. I'm on 187.5 units for now, with the first adjustment coming after we see Monday's bloodwork. I have back-to-back soccer games on Sunday night (potentially- it's playoffs, so if we win the first one, we play again) and will need to inject in between them, so I have to be not only capable but proficient by Sunday night so I can do it in semi-public.

I knew it would be

Negative. But it doesn't get a "BFN" this time because a test at 7dpo is completely inconclusive and a ridiculous waste of a test. But, as I mentioned, it was a cheap test and I still have one left (I thought I had two, but remember now that I used one to make sure I wasn't pregnant before starting clomid).

I won't dwell on any imaginary symptoms I might be having this cycle. If I don't discuss them and don't write about them, I feel more sane and less delusional. I do imagine that something is up, but I don't necessarily feel pregnant. Regardless of what I am, or am not, feeling right now, I'll know one way or the other next week. No need to speculate; we'll find out soon enough.

It would be more than wonderful to tell C on Thanksgiving that we're pregnant. Thanksgiving was always his mother's holiday and this will be the first holiday season without her. His emotions surprise him sometimes. He thinks he's "over" the loss, but then he'll see or hear something and think of what his mother would think of it, then remember again that she isn't here to see or hear anything. C needs something wonderful to look forward to.