I was hoping to write a very different kind of post this morning, but my body had different plans, it seems. Yet another negative pregnancy test. Cycle #too-many-to-count was a failure.
All I want to do is call in sick and watch sappy movies while crying into my Ben and Jerry’s. But I don’t have any sick leave, because last year’s ruptured cyst, laparoscopic surgery, and the flu left me in the negative. I can’t wallow in self pity and go to bed early tonight, because we have dinner plans with friends. And I can’t sleep in early tomorrow and spend the day unshowered watching Star Trek, because my little sister and I are shopping for my older sister’s birthday party. She’ll be 40 next week. I’m not far behind. Yet another reminder that the clock is ticking.
Next week we meet with the RE to discuss IVF. It’s basically an reconnaissance mission to gather information before deciding our next move. This means some seriously deep soul-searching conversations are just days away.