So this is it.
The tortuous two week wait has started.
I had my first IUI on valentines day. Ironic hey?!
I know I am kidding myself, thinking I could get pregnant on my first IUI.
But I can’t help it. Bloody human nature to be hopeful. I am just terrified of setting myself up to fail.
I mean I KNOW the odds are against us. The chances are fairly slim even if you have no fertility issues. Most women take 3 – 4 IUIs before a successful pregnancy.
I feel like the picture. The tests, in fact the whole process is waving a big fuck you in my face at the moment. Laughing at me, because theres nothing I can do but sit and wait for hours, days, weeks… ok just two weeks, but honestly, it feels like a lifetime. A full blown, eon of time before I can take a test!
I am slightly unsure of when to test too. I am due on, on the 27th Feb. But thats only 13 days after treatment, and usually your due 14 days after. So if I tested, I am not sure if I would get a false positive or vice a versa. The clinic said to wait 16 days. But that would be a few days after I was due on…. which might be a give away!
I have our NHS appointment on the 26th, so part of me wants to test then, and according to the clear blue tests I could test as early as the 24/5th but no point testing early.
I have cramps, supposedly you can get cramps after IUI and its normal, I had a minute amount of bleeding yesterday too. Again apparently thats normal. But cramps are still there on day 2.
They are off putting. My head knows they are IUI linked. But part of you, the irrational, illogical, emotional part of you wants desperately to cling to some shred, a sliver of hope that it might, just might be a sign.
I’m an idiot.
Mentally I keep slapping myself around the face, for being stupid, for clinging to any hope. I need to get real here. The odds are low. Plus this is my first time, I would have to have some serious luck to get pregnant first time.
The frustration I’m feeling has penetrated my skin, my cells, my every fibre. I woke up feeling irritable this morning, and exhausted.
The emotional journey we have been on since before Christmas, is draining my energy reserves to nil, in fact, I think I am in debt with myself!!
Whilst I might be able to see a light at the end of the tunnel. A tiny pee stick might ruin it all. Throw a big Fuck You my way, and thats it. All over for another month.
I suppose the one ‘small mercy’ I have at the moment, is my cycle is so short, that if I do get a BFN (Big fat negative) I only have 10 days to wait before I would go back to Denmark to try again…
I feel like irony is playing tricks on me, if I have to go back to Denmark, the next time will be on my birthday. What is it with me and dates?
If it does work this time, I will hit 12 weeks and be able to tell my friends whilst were all on holiday at Gran Canaria pride!
And there I go again, trying to piece tiny, insignificant nothings together to find some shred of ‘pregnancy’ or fate or anything.
Two Weeks… Two Weeks… Two Weeks… I hate two weeks.
Fortnights are not my friend any more.
I keep falling prey to ‘googling’
No woman trying to get pregnant should use google. It should be banned, locked down and banished from your life.
I am beginning to think its the ‘google of death.’ You end up in this vicious pattern, of googling one desperate question after the next. Getting more anxious and upset each time. One answer sends you flying on a blanket of elation, the next, down into a depressive tear ridden mess.
Everyone said it would be an emotional journey. It really is.
I have taken to wearing some Danish Kronor. I got these whilst over there, change for our train tickets I think. But now I’m wearing them round my neck… for luck I guess.
Another stupid made up superstition.
*slaps self mentally*
How the hell am I going to get through the next 11 days?
This is pain.
But pain of a whole different nature.
It’s pain you cant feel physically.
It’s a nasty squirming sensation. A plague that infects the veins in your brain. Wriggles its way around your cerebrum. Nudging and irritating you just often enough you don’t forget it is STILL 11 days…… or 264 hours, or 15,840 minutes.
Sounds like a lifetime.