Crampy Bloaty Blah

So, I'm strung out on enough Follistim to create viable eggs out of old fingernail clippings and a single drop of sweat. My pants are barely able to stretch across the first giant bruise of this cycle. I am too grouchy to be allowed to answer the phone.

I have a monitoring appointment tomorrow and I'm just hoping for growth from all six of the bigger follicles. If a few of the stragglers catch up, great. If not, whatever. I wish I could just take the fentanyl now and not worry about any of this until it's over. I have definitely developed a bad attitude, but it seems there is nothing to be done. I blame it on the hornet-sting of the Menopur.

I actually talked to a woman in the waiting room at my last appointment. She was so excited and optimistic - her first IVF. I just kept thinking that she has no idea - but some people really do just sail through all this and go home happy, no reason it can't be her. Probably will be her. See? Now I am grumpy about a perfectly nice lady's possible first IVF baby. What is wrong with me?

*******

In school-world, we met with an educational psychologist today. It was fascinating to get actual answers to questions about what is right for your particular child's learning needs. These days, it seems like all kids already know their learning style. Somehow, it doesn't really go farther than the label - my daughter knows she is a tactile/kinesthetic learner, but she has almost no information about how that will impact her academically. For instance, today we were told that sciences can be incredibly important to tactile learners, and I've never thought of her as especially scientific. But now the whole wanting-to-be a-chef thing makes so much sense. (Although I honestly thought that was only because we had watched the old "Sabrina", with Audrey Hepburn at the Cordon Bleu.)