IUI #2 officially starts tonight when I pop my first CD 3 Clomid. I'm optimistic that this will get me an earlier ovulation than last month, maybe more than the two follies I had for IUI #1, and...well, beyond that, I'm not sure what to expect. I kind of feel like last month was our month, to be honest (though I know I felt utterly differently during that two-week wait). I had just had the HSG with all its famed conception-enhancements. And from what I understand, additional IUIs beyond the first have diminishing returns for women who ovulate without assistance. Though of course, I know plenty of bloggies who conceived on their second and third and fourth IUIs and beyond.
I don't really know what I'm saying. This is all happening so quickly. I'm still coming to terms with last month's chemical pregnancy and all the hideous fears it has raised and now we're suddenly moving into another cycle, another try, and I truthfully can't see it working out. I can't see us getting off that easy.
Ah, well. Once more unto the breach.
This morning I also had my blood drawn for the RPL panel. Whoo boy. They weren't kidding. Those were an awful lot of vials of my blood being bagged up and sent off. Coupled with my continuing period, I'm surprised I had enough blood left to continue breathing and moving and, you know, living. I think I did a pretty good job with it, if I say so myself. The phlebotomist was lovely, didn't leave a bruise or anything, and she distracted me with chat about Twilight (she's a big fan) and Harry Potter (we both are). Several times I felt my hands and lips start to tingle and go numb, but Lawyer Guy squeezed my fingers and the nurse slapped a cold, moist towel on my forehead and I managed to avoid passing out. Some apple juice and peanut M&Ms (sigh) later, I was ready to go back out into the world.
The results should come trickling in over the next two weeks. I was so glad to have the blood draw over that I forgot to worry about the results. I have to remind myself that knowledge is good, even of bad things. Whatever is wrong with us--if there is something wrong-- is already there and these tests didn't actually change anything.
My brilliant plan to spend a day feeling sorry for myself and then move on appeared to be working a treat until last night. I got manicures in the afternoon with my real life IF friend in the neighborhood, and then Lawyer Guy and I spent the evening cooking up a fall feast together: fancy spaghetti and turkey meatballs from him, butternut squash soup and baby arugula with roasted squash and an apple cider vinaigrette from me. We really had a lovely time together, which is why I was so shocked when I sat in front of the tv last night, glass of wine in hand, and suddenly felt so very, very sad. The kind of sad that fills your pores and weighs down your bones and hurts all over, from your scalp to your toenails. Maybe it was the be-costumed babies all over facebook, but I hurt so much I wanted to claw my heart out of my chest just to feel relief. I actually took out my Bible, which I haven't read in years (dare I say decades?), and read all of Lamentations in bed before burying my face in the pillow and crying.
I feel like I've been going through the motions today: blood test and prescription pick-up and therapy and walk the dog and grade some papers and lesson plan for tomorrow. I don't know what this cycle will bring, and I'm afraid to think too much about it. I don't know when I'll feel better about the chemical, and I'd rather not think too closely about that either. One foot down, and then the next. Pet my dog and take a shower. Hope each day's a little better than the one before. Hope I've got enough in me to survive when it's not.