First, thanks to everyone who has called, emailed, texted, or come over to pull me off the couch. I realized today that I’ve been accepting calls but not initiating them, so if I haven’t called you back, it’s because I would probably cry anew each time and I feel like I’ve achieved some equilibrium. I really appreciate that you called. I heard from every single person I expected to hear from (even noticed a couple missing…hmm, what about C and the W’s…and then checked my work voicemail and there they were). I quite literally could not do this without you and have no idea how anyone does it with any less than an army of supporters!!! I am a very lucky girl.
For the last two meeting-filled work days, I kept up a minimum of productivity while working from home. At the end of the last meeting yesterday, I felt like I had just limped/crawled across the finish line of the work week and collapsed on the couch for a deep and disorienting two-hour nap.
I had dinner plans with my friend I. and her call came in when I was just emerging from deep, dark couch slumber–her idea was to go to the Cheesecake Factory followed by retail therapy at the mall. At first I was like, “Do you know who I am?” (i.e. a snob who hates shopping) but, somehow, the suggestion was kind of perfect. I tried to picture the polar opposite–the two of us sharing a bottle of wine in the dim corner of some neighborhood ethnic restaurant and somehow that was terrible. I just saw myself crying into the wine glass. Bring on the crowds, pumping music, uber-sized portions, and Union Square.
Of course, after two dinner-sized appetizers, we didn’t need dinner at all. That place is ridiculous. Two beers and I was soused. We then did some dress shopping for Rio (fun). My friend I. is a very matter-of-fact person–she’s a scientist, a commitment-phobe, and on the less emotional end of the spectrum–a good reflector of rationality. She empathized and remains greatly hopeful for my chances. She also has an older sister who just went through yet another failed round of IVF (several times, she has carried to 8 weeks, then miscarried).
Someone always has it worse, which is good perspective. But it doesn’t mean that whatever level of sadness you’re going through is any less real.
I feel the weight of it today because it’s Saturday and a lot of my plans have evaporated and I don’t have to keep my chin up for any reason. I have the usual boring shit to do: work I let slip last week, clean up, postpone jury duty, finally make a hair appointment as it has gotten out-of-control long with 3-inch roots. I absolutely need to get outside for a run. Then dinner with my sister (cue the waterworks).
I got Olga on the phone yesterday. She said something like, “there’s no way to know without having done the blood test earlier,” since, apparently, in her world, nothing really happens unless it is reflected in data from the lab. But she relented that it was likely a chemical pregnancy and I told her how important it is to me to know that my body is capable of getting pregnant, and she maybe got it, a little bit. I recognize that she was just the messenger, so we’ll leave it there.
More importantly, I am looking ahead. I have an appointment with my RE, Dr. Tran, on Wednesday to discuss my options for round 4. By then, I will be almost peeing on a stick.
And even more importantly than that, I just bought a ticket for two weeks on Lake Michigan with my family, best place on earth to endure the two week wait.