When I picked up the stims the pharmacist eyed the order rather dubiously and even said "Wow, that's a lot of follistim..." I tried not to let it shake me, but the truth is this freaks me out.
I remember when I first used injectables. My dose was something like 37.5 units per day. I didn't even do an IUI - it was just a medicated intercourse cycle. Since I actually got pregnant, I somehow ended up thinking that I wasn't even really infertile after all - that I just needed a jump-start because my husband traveled so much that we weren't getting the consecutive attempts that most couples have. When I look back at that cycle, I realize that if it hadn't worked I probably would have moved on to IVF years sooner than I did. Sometimes you think things make sense when they're really just signs of nothing.
I am telling you now, you will be able to knock me over with a feather - even through the internet - if this cycle actually works. I am going through the motions, but somehow my body already knows this is a bust. I can feel it in my bones, in my cells. I am practically pouring follistim into my ovaries, but somehow I can't muster up even a little enthusiasm for hope. I suppose it's better this way - better than the other way around, at least - but it just doesn't seem right. Shouldn't this at least spark that tiny bit of hope that stays hidden in your heart even when you know you shouldn't let yourself dare to allow it at all?