I'm doing IT again
Remember the innocent days when "doing IT" automatically meant: having sex? The giggles that would ensue, the stern look we got from our teachers or parents...
In this instance, I'm not referring to IT as s-e-x.
Although......the hormones are starting to play tricks on me, and my blood pressure spikes even after Mook has come in from the yard covered in dirt and stinky. Mmm, manly man man-ness. Yummy!
The IT in this instance is what I felt myself doing the last time before we started IVF: retreating
I have this mental image of William Wallace (gotta be him because of my Scottish heritage) barreling towards me giving me the order to RETREAT!
I'm not backing out of the cycle, not retreating from the needles or the ultrasounds or even the hope that is creeping in. I am, however, feeling my mind slip into a state of auto-pilot.
I first noticed this was happening over the weekend when I was reading my most-loved gossip news: "Jessica Simpson has triplets and kisses a grizzly bear!" That may as well have been the title of the article, as I found myself re-reading them at least 3 times. Even the Daily Dose of Dempsey wasn't enough to snap me out of it. I know, I should be arrested...not swooning over Patrick is a crime in 38 states.
I don't know.
I just feel like I'm hovering about four feet over my body and looking down on a life happening that isn't mine. I'm having a hard time focusing on anything, and get this: I'm not even really thinking about IVF numero dos. Well, I guess I am and it's called: DE-NILE River. Get it? Hardy, har. Please laugh along with me...laughing is good for the soul.
So I have just proved CNN correct. Blogging has been therapy for me today, because I am admitting to you all that I am in denial about this upcoming cycle. Now I can begin to heal, right?
The signs of numero dos denial:
- Meds remain in the guest room, unpacked from the boxes.
- Med calendar is not in the least bit organized: this is a problem, because I think I start suppressing Wednesday. Must get organized.
- Mook asked me when my first ultrasound was: I gave him a blank stare. "What ultrasound?" Umm, yea.
- I got a call on Thursday from the financial person @ our clinic: "Hi JJ, just called to find out how you want to pay?" After a 30 second pause, I said, "Oh, I thought I had paid off our last cycle." to which she calmly said, "No dear, this is for your upcoming cycle." Right.
- I haven't even started looking for super-cool leg warmers. I told Mook there was no way I was going to transfer without some. Just too damn cold--and my clinic does not give out valium, so I need something!
Now, to my blogging therapists--how have you snapped out of it, and how should I get my arse in gear? I'm not alone here, am I? Bueller?... Bueller?... Bueller?
Shouldn't I be uber-invested, so that rainbows and sunshine are coming out of my lady bits? I want to get up in the stirrups for my first ultrasound (thanks to Mook, I'll remember) and have the hallelujah chorus start playing. The sitcoms all have music playing at appropriate times, so why can't I?
Thank you so much for all the beautiful birthday wishes: it was all rainbows and sunshine for me yesterday!










