We went today for baseline bloodwork and ultrasound monitoring.
I must be crazy because I really thought it would be no big deal. I've done the bloodwork a thousand times now and I can practically perform my own ultrasounds.
If were just that, it would have been fine. But somehow in imagining how this morning would go, I failed to consider the emotional impact of being back at my clinic and back in the IVF saddle again.
Why my reaction surprises me is in itself puzzling (I'm, um, a psychologist, so I'm supposed to have a pretty decent read on my own feeling states), but being there, breathing in the desperate anticipation of the other women - who somehow managed to make it through a major blizzard to crowd the waiting room by 7:45 AM, seeing a woman clutching her ultrasound with its little gestational sac plainly visible, hearing my doctor come out of another room where he'd clearly just done an IUI insemination, well, it all just about did me in.
I thought I was going to throw up. I looked bad enough that the tech asked me if I was all right.
Me, all right? Why no, actually, I'm not all right.
Just being in this place - reliving our five pregnancies, our five subsequent losses, facing my fear that we will never have a child who lives - makes me want to rip my own head off. But, ahem, that's not socially acceptable, so I'll just go out into the waiting room and take it out on Will, who is having his own very hard time with all of this. Why we aren't always able to comfort each other with consistency during the hardest parts of this is another mystery. Something we're working on, but need to work on fast.
Because (gulp) we're back here again. We're doing this. We waded through more than a foot of snow to make it in for this morning's monitoring.
Why is it that all I feel is dread about cycling again rather than the nervous excitement I used to feel?
IVF #6 here we come.