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Today is cycle day 1. Now for me right now, CD1 carries with it no hopeful RE appointments, no new fertility drugs, and no ultasound viewings. CD1 is just what it is: a day full of cramps and crankiness and not-pregnantness and tampon-changing. Sorry to be graphic, but, well, it's CD1 and let's just be frank and not sugar coat this day with silly little acronyms. I'm on my period, y'all, and it sounds about as good as it feels.
This is my first full period after a failed IVF cycle. And while I shouldn't be so surprised it's here, I kinda am, because I naively trusted my acupuncturist when she told me "it's not uncommon for women to conceive the month after a failed cycle". Hear that laughing? It's the universe. Apparently I'm once again the butt of their sick joke.
But I had my reasons to be hopeful. Such as a perfect, positive OPK right on CD 13 like textbook clockwork. I even had what I *thought* was implantation spotting on CD 18 and 19.
Then, on day 26, I'm awakened at 5:15 to find my little monthly surprise. WTF? Does tampax get a cut of the profits everytime this happens?
But that was just the beginning. Oh, it gets worse.
There's this strange natural phenomenon that follows me around like a dark cloud whenever my progesterone levels drop. It's as if people feel a strong magnetism toward me and decide it's the perfect day to tell me that they're pregnant. At least this latest friend had the courtesy to tell me in private over email. I'm thankful for that small favor. Of course, my email back to her was all CONGRATULATIONS!! And that's soooo GREAT!! What else am I to do? Tell her it's not fair and that baby should be mine??
The piéce de résistance came when Preggo's husband sent out ultrasound pictures to all his guy friends. My hubby's heart sank, and with it mine too. Often I feel so responsible for his sadness. This is my physical affliction, after all. Sometimes I wonder how I'd feel if our IF was due to male factors.
Anyway, whatever. I have no useful insights or lofty bits of wisdom to dole out right now. I think I'll just go change my tampon.
Life has been so crazy for me lately, I haven't paid much attention to the poor little blog. And now, woah... ICLW is here. Now I know you all aren't exactly waiting around with baited breath to read what WannabeMommy has to say, but it is about time I wrote something for the 1.5 people out there who might care.
So this post may take a bit of a departure from the same old fertility blah-blah-blah. This post is about my mom. She has been suffering from a condition called atrial flutter/fibrilation, where her heart suddently and out of the blue races at more than double the normal rate, for the better part of a year. Her home is about one and a half hours away from mine, and I'm pretty much the only close family member she has around the area. I worry about her a lot, as she is 72 now and dealing with this worsening heart condition. In the last 3 weeks alone she has visited the ER 3 times. And on top of that she takes care of my severely disabled brother. He can't walk, talk, go to the bathroom, or eat on his own. My mom takes care of every basic human need for him. Or at least she did until last week.
Last Thursday, I was sitting at my desk in my office doing the usual (probably reading blogs) when I got a very distressing call from my mom. In a weak and warbly voice, she told me her heart was racing uncontrollably; that she thought this one was "it" and she "wasn't going to make it". I of course panicked; my mom isn't one to be overly dramatic so I took the call very seriously. But unfortunately, there isn't much you can do when you're an hour and a half away.
She managed to call 911 and have the ambulance rush her to the hospital. Frantically, I bolted to her side as fast as I could, and met her in the ER. She was very glad and relieved to see me, but I could tell this time was serious. She held my hand and told me that she remembered the day I was born, that she was indeed there when it happened. I stared into her eyes and noticed there was something different about them; a peacefulness amid the chaos. It scared the shit out of me, but I tried desperately not to show it. Three hours later, she was moved to a different hospital and whisked into surgery—a procedure called catheter ablation. Thankfully, it was deemed a success, and mom is now living at my house, recuperating until we figure out what's next.
Meanwhile, with my mom's frail health, it finally became apparent that she could no longer care for my brother. He is now living in a care home with 13 other disabled people and a full staff. I worry about him a lot now, too. Is he scared? Is he eating? Will he be happy there? These are all questions I slowly tried to answer for myself as I traded visits between his new home and my mother's hospital room. I think they are both taking it one day at a time.
Needless to say, this craziness has left me little time to obsess about my fertility, and maybe that's the silver lining here. I can't imagine getting pregnant without having my mom around to share in the joy, the planning, the shopping, the excitement, and the worry. It has crossed my mind a few times that maybe my IVF failed for a higher reason; maybe right now it's time to focus on Mom. So that's what I'm going to do.
That, and maybe a little frenetic, obscure blogging on the side.
