In my mind, I have already started the next cycle. I know I'm only 6 dpiui and I couldn't reasonably expect to have a clear sense one way or the other as to whether this worked or not, but sometimes you just know, right? I'm not sure how I would expect to feel if I were pregnant right now, but it's not like this. So I don't think I am.
And I would be okay with that--not thrilled, but okay, able to cling to Dr. Wonderful's confidence in our future chances and determination to get us to Destination Baby without any further delay--if not for...well, if not for any number of "not fors."
If not for the fact that I am leaving for a conference in Portland the day my period is due, meaning I have to decide whether to test the day before (in order to let my doctor know what's up before I leave) and see one of those BFNs I swore many, many, many months ago I would never let myself see again or wait and get the definitive proof that IUI #1 failed while alone and thousands of miles from home.
If not for the fact that I visited Clueless Preggo over the weekend, who is now Clueless Mommy, and sat there cuddling her sweet baby girl and wishing so heartily that things could be different.
If not for the fact that my best friend, Doctor Lady, is planning on starting to try for Baby #2, like, tomorrow, and I both want her to have an easy time of it and know I will resent her, just a little, for getting so quickly what has been such a struggle for us.
If not for the fact that Safely Married Friend--the one who insisted over and over that children were a long way off in her future--just took the infamous Last Big Trip with her husband and confided that they will start trying in January.
Is it so wrong that I want, desperately and with a jealous fervor that I thought I'd left behind in junior high, to get pregnant before ONE of my friends? To beat ONE person to the punch? To not be lapped by EVERYONE I know? To get to announce my own pregnancy to ONE person who won't be able to look at me with a been-there-done-that-got-the-nursing-bra-to-prove-it smile?
It is. It's stupid. It's meaningless, and I know that. I just hate watching the time slip away, whether measured in calendar months (2.5 left in 2010, that year I had such high hopes for) or in the size of my friend's bellies or in the numbers of children smiling from the Christmas cards that are due to start rolling in any day now.
Dr. Wonderful said these treatments will work, but we have to be a little patient. And I'm good with patience when it's just me in my house with my dog and Lawyer Guy, a stack of nineteenth-century novels to read and some trashy television to watch. But even after all these months (nearly twenty of them) of practice, I find patience in short supply when I step outside my door.