Wednesday, January 26, 2005

drumroll please

I got my period today (and wtf is up with that? Three times within six weeks? Do I have to give up coffee completely?!) so my infertility slash donor insemination treatment is about to begin. It's Australia Day today so the clinic is closed, but ordinarily the procedure is to call on day one to book an ultrasound for sometime between day three and five. I'll call tomorrow and hopefully get it done on Friday. I went through all the paperwork today, dotting the i's and crossing the t's as it were, and I do feel like I'm doing something big. I didn't think it would start feeling official so soon.

btw, I've mastered the art of the frequent yet mini more often for less days better than less often for more? *thoughful face*

And, yay. Because I went through the paperwork (and in effect, read the damn instructions) I'm eligible for the program because I've been going at it for over two years without a hint of pregnancy, which makes me officially infertile, and being infertile trumps being single.

Eh. I've probably got it all wrong and any slapper can wander in off the street and buy a bottle of someone's finest but so what? I read the instructions, which is a first. Do I really need to understand them too?

I have this pain, just a squeak to right of the midline and really low in my pelvis. Obviously I had a surprise ovulation thing going on at some point, shagged in a timely fashion, either pre or post this miraculous egg popping event, and any previous bleeding was implantation bleeding or some such and today's bleed is due to my ruptured ectopic pregnancy, and of course, that means I'm going to bleed out. The end.

Failing that, on day twenty one I get bloods drawn to check my E2 and progesterone levels, and check for if I ovulate something. Only two hormones are being looked at though, so I don't think it's real important what my own hormones are doing. These guys are probably gonna pump me full of theirs anyway, which could have been a moral dilemma if I wasn't so sure that putting up with a concoction of synthetic stuff that will no doubt make me loopy, fat and fat is merely a drop in the ocean of the rest of my life. Good thing I"m sure, huh? I'm thinking this month I need to go without my (natural) progesterone cream and (natural) pregnenelone capsuless. I'll ask when I call tomorrow. By coincidence I'm seeing my kineseologist on the fifteenth, and a lab is located at the same practice, and since I'm into the doo doo do doo stuff, that augers well.

This is it kids. The beginning.

Where's the marching band?

ps I'm more than vaguely satisfied mum didn't surprise me by going over all gooey and supportive at my news. I'm glad she didin't disappont my neglectful madonna image I have. I suppose vaguely satisfied is good. It seems an odd emotion, but at least it's not distressing. With or without her, I'll finance this. (I should beat my chest with my fist when I say that) With her most likely (she says hopefully) though it'd be nice to not need her. I probably don't even need her per se, but to not worry about money as much as I would if I didn't get some help from her is tempting. On someone else's cash, I can glow and gestate and spend my own on bon bons and trashy magazines.

Money is a worry though, even when I have it. Money equals survival, and I've been worrying about surviving for a long time, ergo, I worry about money.

Worry, worry, worry.

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