Not really. I mean, I haven't had my period since October, but I guess pregnancy will do that to a gal.
I am still waiting for my first period after the D&E. If all goes according to the outpatient instructions, it should be soon. Like, Saturday. But what are the chances of that? And what are the chances that I will be my old regular 28-day self afterwards?
The only reason I care is that my clinic has a late April cycle, and I may be able to get away with no BCPs if my periods cooperate. The antagonist cycle I'll be on starts on CD1, and if I can get in sync with their start dates I can do a "natural" cycle. Which is such a silly thing to call it, of course, but if it means I don't have to take the pill I won't quibble about semantics.
I feel so neutral about cycling again. I'm stuck somewhere between just ending this all and getting on with the rest of my life and knowing that I will always wonder what would have happened if we had tried. None of my feelings are especially related to hope that this will actually work. It's more about closure. Either I get it from actively deciding that I am ready to be done with this or having the point made by BFNs. I think there is a sense of control over the process if the choice to stop is mine, and that it can be meaningful to feel that there is something to control about any of this. But it's hard to weigh that against the sense of regret that might surface, over and over, if I don't pursue this, at least to the extent that I have already paid for two more cycles. I am torn, obviously. There is something so attractive about being the strong, practical woman who realizes that her life is already so good, so lucky in so many other ways.
My daughter says, "Aren't I enough?" and of course she is. No other child could be as perfect for me as she has been. Any new child would never be able to have those ten early years with me, often just the two of us because my husband traveled so much for work. Even when we would join him in the more appealing locations, we were mostly alone together in a strange place while he worked all day. We would make our way through foreign cities, trying to figure out menus and public transit and where the best ice cream/gelato/glace could be found. No matter how much I could love another child, it would be impossible to have that kind of experience together.
So, what is it that draws me back in, that makes the idea of jabbing myself with hormones and taking steroids for months seem like the right thing to do? Is it just some biological imperative - Reproduce! - that keeps me going, hoping, trying for something that is most likely to crush me emotionally? I keep thinking that trying again but maintaining an "expect nothing" frame of mind is the way to go.
But - it just doesn't work that way, does it?