Strategy and other carnival games

Today is retrieval day for the 4th time. My appointment is at 9:30 but I’ve been awake since 3:45.  It’s a little after 6, I’ve emptied the dishwasher done some ironing, straightened up the living room and folded laundry. Meanwhile I’m trying to keep my mind blank, which isn’t going so well. So I’m planning a strategy. Because trying to control things completely out of my control is super useful.

The day before a retrieval my husband notices I tend to retreat into myself, I get quiet, focused. I internalize my feelings because what good would it do to freak him out with my fears? Having a big verbal throw up at him means he can’t focus on the things he needs to do. So I keep it to myself. Instead I do things like get a pedicure, because if my junk is going to be on display the last thing I want them to notice are my Barney Rubble feet. Why this matters to me I have no idea. I think my feet are probably better looking than my lady garden.

I have a sneaking suspicion that I have already ovulated the lead follicle. I don’t know that yet, but my strategy is to be ready for another failed retrieval. To be thankful that I produced several follicles this cycle, which has been primarily non medicated. To go to the gym later to beat the stress and anxiety out of myself and continue to prepare for next cycle and trying to take all that great advice I gave you. Eat well, sleep, exercise avoid overstress and anxiety.

While I am typing this I can feel my heart fluttering, my throat constricting and I already know my breathing is shallow. Projecting much? Gah!

If I haven’t ovulated the lead egg, I will still go to the gym later but I might try to take a nap first. I’m not a good sleeper on my best days, and its been more than 2 weeks since I’ve slept more than 3 or 4 hours in a row. Sometimes after waking, I can go back to sleep but usually not. So I go downstairs to my office, turn on some music, take my vitamins, drink some wheat grass juice, and then try not to vomit. Because that stuff tastes like someone mowed the lawn in your mouth. I don’t know if any of you know anything about the Irish Famine, but those starving people ate grass, so somewhere in my DNA there is huge opposition to this whole wheat grass business.

I have some crap tv recorded in case I do have a retrieval and am relieved enough to rest or take a nap. No I wont tell you what shows because its embarrassing. I don’t even let my husband see the junk I DVR, I have it deleted before he gets home because I’m afraid he will take one look at me and say “You know, you look a little dumber today”.

7:45, Ive showered, need to scrape the lawn clippings out of my mouth and blow dry my hair. I’m trying to focus on taking deep breaths and slowing my heart. I hate these ways that my body betrays my fear. I aspire to be the kind of woman who bravely faces these uncertainties without faltering. I want to be the one who quietly, courageously accepts what happens next with grace and determination.

Off I go, whispering to myself to be brave, be courageous, face it head on.

Here’s what I’m listening to:

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