So, the way I see it, the rotten, lousy groundhog got it wrong on Wednesday. Spring has never been farther away and today lends evidence to this statement. I had scheduled to have my 2 hour glucose testing done this morning at 7:45. If you recall, I tried to go last Saturday but didn't have an appointment and they kept taking everyone else ahead of me until it was too late to do the test. Well, I made this appointment before I broke my toe and was rendered unable to drive. I had to wake Flaco up to take me over to the lab. He was less than pleased because he also had to be up earlier than normal for him on Thursday and Friday (to take me to doctor appointments and work). To be fair, his schedule is different from mine. He usually works 10 am - 10 or 11 pm in a very busy restaurant. He sees my job as insanely easy (which, it is most of the time, but it does require a certain intelligence) and he works very hard on his feet all day. Anyway, we were quarreling as we went outside to the car to drive to the lab (about 15 minutes away). It was freezing rain and the sidewalk was extremely slippery. Unfortunately the roads were equally as treacherous and we never made it out of our neighborhood, let alone to the lab. I was so annoyed. But, I don't suppose you want to hear all about annoyance between the two of us.
I am in limbo-land. The place where all the meds have been taken, all the tests performed, and now it is just time to wait and let "nature" take it's course. We cannot control if one or more of the follicles will actually mature. We cannot force the mature little bugger out of the ovary and down the fallopian tube to some waiting sperm. And short of crossing our fingers and praying to God, we cannot shove a little spermy into one of these eggs and start cellular multiplication. Nothing we do will hinder or enhance the little egg-sperm from nestling into the uterine wall and continue to grow into our baby. I want nothing more than to end this Clomid Challenge a winner, with a bun in the oven. I have dreamt about it so often, sometimes I wake up in the morning and I swear I hear my baby crying for me. I see flashes of our "new" life; feeding the baby in the morning and then snuggling in bed with Flaco, taking baby to visit my parents on the farm, coming home to hugs and kisses, soothing our baby to sleep - so many little snapshots! Clearly, I need a hobby!
I am trying to stay sane with this nasty Clomid pumping through my veins. I am weepy and moody and the hot flashes continue. And now that I am stuck home with this lousy broken toe, I have nothing but time to think and troll the blogs. I just want to know, one way or another, if we will get pregnant this month. I hate to be so afraid to let myself believe that just another month on Clomid can give me my heart's desire. And while I have been intrigued by actually seeing my body during the ovulation cycle, it has also given me a whole other venue to obsess about. I keep envisioning the little blobs morphing into a pea-sized baby. Mentally, I talk to them, encouraging them to stick around for awhile. But, in the end I can do nothing but wait. . . . .
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