Once again, I find myself in a limbo of sorts. I’m pretty sure I’m not pregnant, but I still have somewhere between a few days and a week before I’ll know for sure. Stupid me tested this morning at 11 dpo (way early, I know, but I’m into self-torture). Negative, obviously. Saturday’s test will be more definitive. That’s when I’ll stop the progesterone that I decided to take, even though this was supposed to be a non-medicated cycle. (I just can’t stand spotting for a week before my period.)
My original plan was to do my first IUI next cycle, but with this whole tonsillectomy thing looming, I think it might be best to wait. Or move the surgery date. Or both. I just don’t want to lose more cycles. If I had my shit together months ago, I would have been able to schedule the surgery to coincide with our planned break cycles. I know that in the grand scheme of things, taking a few cycles off probably doesn’t make much of a difference, but, at this moment in time, it feels like a very big deal. Every month I don’t get pregnant, my endometriosis gets worse. It’s entirely possible that it might get so bad that it damages one or both of my ovaries, making it difficult to ovulate or even retrieve eggs for an IVF cycle. Plus, if I postpone for too long, we may end up doing IVF in the winter, which is far from ideal, when you have to travel 200 miles for appointments in North Dakota. We can’t afford to scrap an IVF cycle because of a snow storm.
So, here I am, wondering if my frail emotional state is PMS, pregnancy, the awful dreary weather, or simply the toll of infertility. I feel like the smallest thing might set off a break down. My usually abundant patience is almost nonexistent. I’ve been thinking a lot about my grandmother. She died in 1998, but I still miss her so much it hurts. I’m drawn to drive by my grandparents’ old house, but I know it will only make me even more sad. But, since I’m into torturing myself at the moment, I’ll probably take a detour on my way home from work. I won’t be surprised if the current owner calls the cops about the lady crying hysterically in her car across the street.
UPDATE: As I was writing this, my ENT called to reschedule my surgery for a week earlier than originally planned, which means no IUI for next cycle, as the surgery would be just days after insemination. So, here’s to another cycle down the drain.