The Beginning of the End...or End of the Beginning?

Half empty. Half full. Still means the same: room for more.

Today is the end of week three on BC which is the end of the wait to begin, the beginning of the true craziness that my IVF protocol is marked by. And the middle of all the bloating and hormonal mood swings.

As a repeat-IVF-offender, I forgot about the time commitment--and not just the dedication to the crotch-cam.

First suppression check is Friday morning, hopefully no news will be reported. Funny how that dildo doesn't phase you after the first few. In fact, I almost feel uncomfortable when I go into some place and the US tech makes me insert it. Awkward.

But there's so much other stuff that's on hold due to this routine, and that intercedes my time commitment. I'm active--or at least try to be. For example, I will need to suspend at least 4 weeks of playing on my women's soccer team. That's 1/2 the season! Boo. And those four weeks will be no-run weeks, too. Double Boo. So while I just amass fluid and fat, I'll be on the D-L in fighting it. All preparation for the time commitment of baby---hopefully.

Sorry, I like to plan--if I'm going to go upstate and run a race with a slew of buddies in October, so I can train and be able to complete it. But, I won't know until sometime in August. Or if this is a failure, will we be starting again? Starts to get frustrating. Annoying. Depressing. And without telling everyone we are going through this process--or pregnant at four weeks--there becomes a lot of shady dodge and duck going on.

Meanwhile...Baby K has been a terror at home and I'm flying solo again with the husband on the road. The first IVF cycle I had a broken hand in a cast (made the IVs interesting) and now I'm battling a foot injury--which is a funny side story. I go into the surgeon and he wants to insert a needle of novicain into my ankle. I say sure, he loads it up and marks the spot. Asks if I'm ok, I say yes and needle goes into joint. Awesome. But seriously, no biggie. It's all over and surgeon says, wow! That's a 22.5" needle you did great. And all I can think is 1. Lots of practice 2. Feels beetter when a professional does it as opposed to when I jab it into my thumb on accident.

Anyway.

So cheers a bruised belly, over flowing sharps container, and desperate urge to chew life away on Tootsie Rolls--and I've been really dedicated to the latter--one embryo at a time.