They say that 65% of people get pregnant using clomid within the first three cycles. I'm obviously not in that group. I took an hpt this morning and it was blaringly negative. Add that scientific evidence to my PMS depression and preview cramps and I am pretty darn sure that fertile outcomes for me are going to involve the initials FET or IVF.
I feel like I am mourning the idea that I could get pregnant the pseudo-natural way. Maybe if I had years and a unlimited supply of money for IUI's, but that isn't the case. So, I rang up my clinic today to try to get an estimate of how long the FET preparations are going to take. The answer is all the more depressing--transfers don't begin until January 24. In the meantime, I sit around popping my birth control pills and waiting. Of course, that is only AFTER I obtain medical clearance (saline sonogram next Monday) and then financial clearance (cough up $1G for thawing). I hate, repeat, hate having my fertility in someone else's hands...not to mention that MILITARY'S hands. God help me.
So, I better buck up for the holidays. It's just all getting to me. I will be having the FET exactly one YEAR after trying to get pregnant after losing triplets and having the miscarriage. Yes, that is another YEAR of wasted time. ARRGGGH.
Okay, so I better start warming up to the less than cheery holiday line-up that my husband has created for us. Here's my thanksgiving day agenda--cook and cook and clean and cook and entertain my husband's retarded brother and his retarded roommate (note: I do mean they really are retarded/mentally challenged and live in a group home) and then a chap from the local VFW that my husband felt sorry for--bipoloar and currently off his medication (again). Now, doesn't that sound like fun?! My husband's brother will stand over me with his foul cigarrette breath uttering repetitive questions like "is it done yet? can we eat yet? how you doin? still got your job? I see you still have your car..." and on and on. My husband's brother's roommate will sit there and rock back and forth repetitively (that is if he is not pacing the floor) and I will be hoping that he doesn't get agitated and put a chair through one of our windows (one of his favorite pasttimes). Meanwhile, my hubby will be in the cheeriest of moods and trying to drag me into one as well. I think I'll just stuff my mouth and look forward to my gluttony.
Yes, folks, it seems quite dreary today...
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