Please spare a thought

or a prayer for little Emily Claire, who was born and went to heaven yesterday. Emily's membranes never healed closed after a routine amnio at 15w4d, and her brave mommy battled her way through months of hospital bedrest with constant fluid leakage to get to very nearly 36w. Emily always had some fluid around her, albeit only a little, so there was always some hope, but sadly it was not to be.

Kim, my heart is breaking for you. I don't know why life has to suck so much sometimes.

Another random post

There's nothing like writing out a list of things you need to do to make you realize that you need to get on with it already. So I called the eye doctor and made an appointment, which I had this morning. And yup, my prescription got worse, as I suspected. So I need new glasses. I ended up getting new frames because they were going to have to send my glasses away for two effing weeks just to put new lenses in the frames I have. Another $300 down the drain - thank goodness I have vision insurance, otherwise it would have been $600. AND I picked the "cheap" frame deliberately trying to keep the cost down. But now I can't see because they dilated my pupils so much. Hate that. They never dilated my pupils this much in the UK - you still got the drops and were still dilated, but it didn't incapacitate you for hours afterwards. I guess the US has to do everything bigger and better. Including pupils.

I do find it funny though that they warned me against going home and cutting anything up or otherwise using knives or sharp instruments, but let me drive myself away in my own car. OK, yeah, worry about me slicing a finger, but allow me to be in charge of a very large blunt instrument that could kill a few people if I take a wrong turn with the steering wheel. Sheesh.

Random post

Hey, got my cholesterol down to 192, according to the handy-dandy home meter. Whoop! That's continuing the pace of a drop of about 10 a week, for 7 weeks now. I'm pretty happy about that.

Messed up the HDL reading, as I didn't put enough blood on the strip the first time, and then tried again with the same strip and of course you're not supposed to put two lots of blood on the same stip. Then I managed to drip all over the coffee table and the instruction book.

The list

Thanks for the comments, lovely commenters. You're making my allergies act up again, though, I warn you. My eyes are really quite watery these days.

But anyway, today there's a list brewing in my head somewhere. A list of things I must do before the IVF. Which, now that it looks like I am actually going to cycle have crept up from "oh yeah, I should have done that already" to "oh shit, I'm running out of time". Some of these are just mundane things that I really should do before I leave my house for 2-3 weeks and leave someone else in charge of the cat and putting up hurricane shutters. Some of them are things I should do before I get pregnant.

Bwahahahahaha.

Sorry, yes, I am still lame enough that I think "hey, maybe it'll work. Maybe I'll get knocked up." Lame, lame, lame. Been down this road before. But then again, I wouldn't do another cycle if I didn't have some hope of success. So sometimes I lean in to the lameness like it is an old friend offering support. And I give in to the siren call of planning for a real live baby to take home. And indulge my dreams just for a little bit. Just in case the gods smile on me this time. You just. never. know.

So, the current list goes a little something like:

Eat healthily.
Figure out just what "eat healthily" really means once and for all.
Stop boozing.
Stop drinking caffeine.
Start the darn prenatal vitamins again.
Exercise. Every day, or thereabouts.
Buy 6 million cans of cat food, extra kitty litter and several bags of dry food.
Buy all hurricane supplies (water, batteries, food, etc) that I should have bought at the start of June.
Whiten teeth.
Get eyes checked and new lenses in glasses.
Dye hair.
Call plumber and finally get the kitchen sink fixed.
Call electrician and finally get the dryer fixed.
Find cellphone charger as can't rely on car charger when I won't have a car.
Find hurricane shutter instructions so can put them in an obvious place just in case.
Find friend dumb enough to take on cat care and shutter duties for nearly 3 weeks.
Figure out who's going to cut the grass and clean the pool while I'm away.

I think that's enough to be going on with. But I'm sure I'll add more things to it later.

Look Ma, no cysts!

White pants. They work every time.

By yesterday evening, I had what I'll call "heavy spotting". Which kind of gushed a bit when I got home. Except it wasn't a red gush, it was a brown gush. Now, I have two types of period starts. The first is the early in the morning red gush. You know, aided by gravity when you first get out of bed. That sort of thing. And then there's the evening start, which is heavy brown spotting. That turns in to a red gush in the morning. I have always decided that the evening start is really spotting, because it's not red, because you read on these fertility sites that day 1 = first day of red flow. But often my brown spotting is also flow. And I have very light periods over all, so I often have one day of flow with only half a day of red. The rest is just brown light flow/spotting. So I often end up agonizing over what day is really day one of my cycle. And I have always figured it doesn't really matter, as long as I'm consistent.

So last night, I couldn't decide. I thought I'd set my alarm anyway, and see what happened overnight. There was not much action overnight, so after I got up to pee, I decided to say that it hadn't started, go back to bed and sleep until 9. And do the ultrasound tomorrow. And then I lay there, agonizing again. Not getting back to sleep. You see, I have this theory that I start recruiting follicles early in the cycle. So then what if what I've been calling day 2 is really day 3, AND I recruit follicles early? This could have a big difference in my response to the stim meds because I could be starting them too late. And then of course there's the self-ridicule that comes along with being 38 years old and not being able to figure out when my period starts. Pre-fertility meds I was always sure. The first sign of anything was the start. This was before I learned about spotting and flow. Red and brown being different. And started agonizing over what was really what. Did I gain anything by this agonizing, I wondered? Was it really serving anything by waiting until I had red flow when my cycles have been so effed up by years of birth control pills that there's very little of that anyway. And as for consistency? Well, what I have been consistent about is NOT getting pregnant. So why continue to follow the same old rules, when all they've got me is fatter, poorer and more bitter.

And then I decided, what the hell. Let's go back to what I used to do. Call the first day of real spotting day 1. Let's see if starting early helps any. So I hauled my ass out of bed and into the shower, and schlepped off to the local RE's.

So I checked in, and sat in the waiting room. And sat. And waited. And waited some more. And I looked around, and didn't recognize any of the patients, and only two of the staff. And I felt old, and from another era. I looked around at this new batch of patients who did not start going there in 04 or 05 or earlier but instead in 06 or 07. And I wondered if any of my 04 contemporaries are still around, still trying for #1. Of course, just at this very point, two women near me struck up a conversation.

"Blah blah blah. Have you just started treatment?"
"Yes, well sort of."
"Are you doing IVF?"
"Oh no, we've done one IUI cycle and this is our second. We have a son already, and we'd never do IVF. It's just not worth going through all that when our insurance doesn't cover it. How about you?"
"Oh, I'm doing IVF. It's my first. But my insurance covers it, luckily, otherwise we wouldn't do it either."
"Oh, well, if your insurance covers it, then of course do IVF. Ours doesn't, as I said. Well, it covers diagnostic testing, but we've had to pay for the IUI out of pocket. It's sooo expensive."

It was at this point that my eye started watering. Must be the allergies, I guess. I sat there looking into space thinking about what a freak I would be to these people if they only knew what I'd done and was about to do. 5th IVF cycle, entirely out of pocket. Still trudging on. Moved on to an out-of-state cycle at Big Clinic. The drastic, big guns that only the desperate women do. I must be such a fucking alien freak to them. And I felt so sad and so alone. And so so freakish. So a tear rolled down my cheek. I wiped it away. And then another one came, and another one. And I did my best to pretend that it was just one eye that was watering, and tried to pull myself together.

But then it was my turn. And the ultrasound tech, who was one of the old hands, was so nice to me and so lovely, and so excited about Big Clinic and so hopeful that my cyst was gone, that I just wanted to hug her. But I didn't, because I'm far too British for that. So we stuck the dildocam where the sun don't shine to check up on monster cyst and she said in a very excited voice "IT'S GONE!!!" And we both said "hooray!" And I wanted to love the world. She counted 6 antral follicles on the right, and 2 on the left, which isn't all that many, but it's a respectable number. They were all lovely and evenly sized, and although not as many as I would like, they looked better than plenty of other "CD2" ultrasounds because of their evenness and suddenly I realized that my decision to go in a day earlier was vindicated.

So I left there feeling happy. But it's funny, that damn allergy kept coming back on the drive home. Every time I thought about those women in the waiting room, my eyes would water and a tear would roll down my cheek and I would feel like crap.

And then I started thinking of my internets. My wonderful also-barren friends that I would never have met if it wasn't for blogs and chat boards. The ones I have met in real life and the ones I haven't. The ones that are also multiple IVF failures who, yes, keep going, even when insurance doesn't pay and we have to scrimp and save and borrow and appear desperate to the rest of the world. Because we are desperate. And with good reason. The prize at the end of all this is worth the pain now. We all hope we will be the ones to finally succeed, but if we don't, we'll know we gave it our all. And I'm so thankful to have these women in my life. OK, they're scattered all over the world, and not able to sit in the waiting room with me telling me not to listen to the naive barbies, but they are there for me through my computer screen. And by the time I got home, I remembered that I wasn't alone.

So thank you, internets, for coming to my appointment with me. You may not have realized it, but you were there for me today. And I needed that.

Damn allergies. My eyes are watering again.

16 DPO and STILL nothing

I feel like I've done everything I can. Exercise, jumping up and down. And yes, today I am wearing my new knickers AND white pants.

I just want to get this show on the road so I can start cycling. I mean, not that I'm starting any meds until the end of this next cycle, but I want that ultrasound to see if the monster cyst has gone down. And of course, if there had been any actual sperm anywhere near me this cycle, I might be excited, not annoyed. But there wasn't, so unless this is the next immaculate conception, my body is just playing tricks on me.

And can I just say that when all these authorities confidently predict that luteal phase length is always the same - bullshit.

Here's the proof:

This lovely chart doesn't include this cycle. Now, granted, plenty of my cycles over the last few years have been medicated. I've played with clomid, progesterone, clomid + progesterone, injectables, IVF + progesterone injections. But then why does my luteal phase still vary, even on unmedicated cycles? And I don't think I am wildly off with my ovulation date - I'm still checking my temperature, use a predictor kit a lot of cycles, and have that lovely omelet stuff. I don't think I'm misreading all those things.

Oh well. Que sera sera.

Good gravy

Still nothing. 15DPO and counting.

Of course...

...every time I confidently predict that something will happen, it never does. Case in point, the arrival of my period. I've had four straight months of a 13-day luteal phase, and I had all the signs of its impending arrival yesterday, so I figured, hey, it's month number 5 of the new length post-IVF luteal phase. It'll definitely be here today. Nope. Nothing happening.

Not that it matters, except that this time I decided to travel to NY on July 22nd, as that's a Sunday, so I don't have to be stressing about whether it'll be cycle day 4 or 5, about maybe working on Monday and flying on Monday night, and all that extra stress. In my inital calculations, I figured July 22nd would be CD4 so that's cool. Now it's more likely to be CD3. Not a biggie at all, but the earlier I get there, the longer I have to stay in the hotel, and the more expensive it'll be.

Anyhoo, I ordered the replacement meds today, which will be arriving tomorrow. So I should be all set. If only things would actually happen. And if only the cyst has gone. And all that wishful thinking.

And....action!

After what seems like an eternity, things are finally slotting into place. The scheduler called me, and I am on the schedule. My place in line is booked. At my last clinic, I never had to worry about a "schedule" because they didn't have one. They weren't working to capacity, so didn't have to worry about slotting people in. You just cycled when you cycled. But Big Clinic is, well, big. And they strive to "only" have 10 egg retrievals a day. AND they have their funky lab closure schedule. So there's a whole jockeying for position thing that you have to book your place in line early enough so that you don't get bumped to the following month.

But, phew. I am in, providing no cyst or bloodwork mishaps.

I also have the prescription for the ultrasound in my grubby little mitts. OK, I lie, it's in my grubby little email account, but same difference. I have some forewarning that the crimson tide will arrive tomorrow (a.k.a. spotting) so I should get the ultrasound on Thursday, and then I will know what's going on. At least for now, that is, as we all know that things can change quickly.

In other news, I splurged yesterday on a home cholesterol monitor. My next cholesterol blood draw will be just after the IVF, and as I think the IVF meds affect cholesterol levels, and partly caused the spike in the first place, I'd really like to know what it is before I start taking anything. And I wanted to know what it is now, to see if what I'm doing is working. Although I could call the doc for that information but hey, that involves a phone call and it's all so much effort. I'm VERY pleased to say that, after 6 weeks of dietary modifications and exercise I've got my cholesterol down from 260 to 202. Whoop! Of course, that 202 isn't official, as that wasn't drawn at the doctor's office, but I'll take it. It's nearly good. Hopefully it will be good before I slap that first estrogen patch on my butt.

Will somebody please call me back? Pretty please?

Still waiting to speak to someone from Big Clinic.

Dr. S's secretary DID call me back on Friday, to tell me to call the scheduler and the IVF nurse, so it's not that nobody has called me back, but I'd like to do more than trade voicemails. I called the scheduler Friday, and the IVF nurse this morning. And nothing. I feel like I'm this teeny little person jumping up and down waving a flag and saying "Notice me! Notice me! I'm over here! OVER HERE!!!"

OK, so I'm not very patient. But I want to KNOW that I am on the schedule. I want to know that I can get that damn ultrasound done when I need it done. I want to know that the replacement meds are ordered. I want to know these things. I don't want to be left wondering if they're all getting together saying "hmmm, we have these voicemails from Solitaire and it's too late to get her on the schedule. Who's going to tell her she'll have to wait until September?"

ETA: 5.49pm. 5.49! Good thing I wasn't anxiously awaiting anything. Well, OK, I was, but you know what I mean - there were no important blood test results to be delivered. The IVF nurse called me back. The prescription for the ultrasounds and the meds will be winging their way to me tomorrow. The nurse said she'd spoken to Dr. S. who'd said that I needed to get that u/s done sooner rather than later to see if that big cyst was still there and needed aspirating or not. Uh, yeah. That's what I've been saying for two months. But whatever, things are finally moving at last.

TGIF

Bleh.

I'm still mad at the Government. But what can I do? Nothing, I know. I should quit whining. At least they are not deporting me.

I went this morning for my repeat bloodwork for the hep C and cholesterol. I'd managed to gain a pound, despite being supposed to be on a low fat diet. Um, OK. Well, actually I kind of forgot I was supposed to be on a low fat diet, and had been concentrating on having a low saturated fat diet. So I guess I need to be better about that so that I am not up again when I go back. Otherwise they will start telling me off.

I asked the doc if he'd fax a "clearance" letter to Dr. S. at Big Clinic. Sure thing, he said. Nooo problem. And then when I handed over the address details he asked if I'd like a recommendation to a local fertility doctor so I didn't have to keep flying up to NY for treatments. Yeah, well, I had to explain to him that that horse had already bolted. Elvis has left the building, and all that. Been there, done that, been fired already.

So I called Dr. S's secretary and left a message about getting back on the schedule, and whether I needed to talk to Dr. S. for his approval first. She left me a message telling me to call the IVF scheduler and the nurse, so I guess that means I don't have to speak to him but I'm not entirely sure. I have duly left a message for the scheduler so hopefully she will get me on the calendar. And I will call the nurse early next week. The crimson tide should appear on Wednesday (ish) so I should have plenty of time to get a prescription for an ultrasound if I call on Monday or Tuesday.

I guess therefore I am getting back into the swing of things. I'm not really excited about it or anything, though. It just is what it is. In fact, the fear of a bad response is already started to creep in, and I haven't even got approval to cycle yet. Sigh. Why can't this be easier?

Why am I here?

Every few months it seems, something happens that sets me back to wondering why on earth I am still in this country. It might be something as simple as wondering how on earth people managed to elect W twice. Twice! I mean, once is a simple enough mistake, but the country should have known better the second time around. More often, it is due to some bureaucratic nightmare that I am put in because I am not a citizen or green card holder. Not for want of trying, I'll have you know. I've been trying for more than 6 years. Nearly 7, actually. Only another 6-7 to go and then I might be able to get citizenship.

So today, I found out that the license I need to do my job was granted to me in the "immigrant" category and not the "non-immigrant" category as it should have been. So the government are proposing to yank my license number away from me. Not that it means any actual difference in practice. I can have a license number back again when I get the green card. I can still do my job, just maybe with not the same authority. But it is the sheer ridiculousness of it that is really upsetting me. I actually called this government department to ask a question about something else entirely. And the person on the phone proceeded to grill me about my license, and told me I'd been given the wrong one (over 5 years ago) and he'd have to do something about it.

It's just another indication that, because I'm not a citizen, the government can impose another set of rules on me, can impose limitations on me, can yank my security out from under me, and can require me to stay in a job as an indentured servant. All because. I thought America was supposed to be the land of immigrants. The melting pot. And frankly, I completely understand why people come here illegally. You've got to be rich, stubborn and flexible to be able to do it legally. You've got to put up with BS. You've got to knuckle down and take it all meekly because you were the one with the audacity to decide to move.

So, why not just go back? I have thought about it often enough, that's for sure. Well, first, there's the family connection. Then there's the whole trying-to-get-pregnant thing. It's going to be harder in the UK. I'd probably still have to fly over to this country to do IVF anyway. There's the inertia factor, the financial factor and the whole moving-across-the-atlantic-ocean-is-a-giant-pain-in-the-ass factor. Then there's the fact that maybe, just maybe, I like the weather, I like the size of my house (that is, it's not the approximate size of a shoebox), on the whole I like the people, I like the relative lack of sexism in the workplace, I like that you can more easily get ahead based on merit.

But man, my patience has worn very thin. Very thin indeed.

Some days I just don't know why I put up with it. And I don't need to get stressed out and spend several hours crying at my desk when I'm supposed to be growing good quality eggs.

Can we talk knickers?

I got new knickers yesterday. And no, I don't mean golfing trousers that come down to just below your knees.

But I'm not happy with them. You see, I wanted some boring beige-colored no see knickers that I can wear under trousers without any VPL. So, when the catalog appeared for that famous underwear company whose name may or may not begin with a V, advertising their semi-annual sale, I promptly sent off an order for what was advertised as no show panties. I got the microsmooths, thinking it would be the best option.

Now, OK, I'm wearing a skirt today so I can't attest to whether they are or aren't "no show" but dayum they're uncomfortable. The elastic digs in, the top rolls over underneath the ginormous belly, and they're uncomfortable on my inner thigh crease. I even checked the sizing chart before ordering, and I know I didn't order one that is too small. I guess I should have ordered the low rise version so that my belly could just flop all it wanted over the top of them, but still. I'm miffed.

So now I need help, internets. Clearly, ordering blind based on what a company says their knickers do isn't going to help. And it's not like you can test drive knickers before you buy them. So I'm looking for advice. What do you think are the best knickers? What should I be wearing? Most of my knickers are a combination of Ol.d Na/vy 3-packs, old Mar-ks & S-penc.er knickers from England that are falling apart and growing holes and that V place's cotton ones that have ridiculously big and tight elastic bands. My knicker selection needs an upgrade!

Fear and self-loathing in suburbia

I had a dinner party on Saturday. It had been planned for weeks. I only did it because I seriously owed several work colleagues a dinner, and my turn was way way overdue. Except of course I hate entertaining at home. I just hate it. Well, I should rephrase - some things are OK if they are low key. I did a breakfast last year when England were playing in the World Cup, and we had mimosas, coffee and croissants and watched the football. Easy. There was also only four of us in the house, which is a number I am pretty content with. Come to my place to watch a DVD and order pizza? Sure. As long as the house is tidy first, which it isn't always I admit, so I need some notice. But a dinner party for 6 just scares me. That whole providing food, making sure the timing works out, not killing any of your friends thing. Scary.

You see, I worry that I'm going to give my guests food poisoning - maybe my hygiene standards aren't what they should be, maybe I left some of the food sitting out too long, maybe there'll be rat droppings in the food and my friends will die. OK, the rat droppings thing is ridiculous, I know, but I have a fear of rodents and an even bigger fear of other people being the ones to find out I have rodents. As far as I know, there are no rodents at my house, and I have a pest control company come out every 2 months so I think they would notice. But still. I'm irrational. Then I worry that the food doesn't taste as good as it could do. And that people hate it and are only being polite when they say it's delicious. And I worry that I'm messing up too much as I go along - I forgot to refresh the ice in the ice maker, because I never use it in drinks, so it was probably stale in their glasses of water. I forgot to buy coffee, and while 5 of us said herbal tea was just fine, what about the other one? I forgot to buy fresh sliced almonds so they were probably a bit stale too. I forgot about the naan bread until the last minute, and by then it was cold and I didn't have time to warm it up. The rice was overcooked. One of the curry dishes was probably too hot for everyone. I didn't plan out my serving dishes in advance, so was rummaging in the kitchen cupboards. I don't know if other people are comfortable having appetizers in the living room, or serving themselves wine as I expect them to. I worry that people will think badly of me because I never did get the sink unclogged, and it takes two hours to empty so as people arrived there was disgusting water in there. I wonder how lacking my social skills really are.

And of course, when I'm nervous, I drink. So I was knocking back the wine like there was no tomorrow, and then started making social gaffes. I remember staring at my friend's cleavage for too long - I was actually trying to figure out if I could see her bra or if she was wearing a sleeveless top that was supposed to be visible. But I'm sure I stared way too long and was probably noticed. I made an inappropriate remark because I misunderstood what someone was saying about the color of Barack Obama's lips.

I know, this all sounds stupid stuff. I've been told this morning by one colleague that he and his wife had a great time, and a lot of fun. It was probably all just fine, and nobody cares about this stuff. But I spent much of yesterday (hungover) hating myself. Ugh. How on earth do people enjoy entertaining? Are they the ones with perfectly clean houses who are master chefs? Do they not spend the entire time worrying about their guests? I wish I was one of those people.

And now I feel really fat and poisoned. And I have my repeat bloodwork on Friday, so I really need to spend the week being perfect food-wise. Not to mention that I want to be off the booze in preparation for the IVF, but now have two open half bottles of wine just begging to be used up when I don't feel poisoned any more. Because of course I can't possibly just throw it away, can I?

I did a brave thing

I just booked a hotel room in NY for my anticipated IVF cycle! Ooh, I'm crazy wild!

But the place books up way early, and I hear it is much easier to change a reservation at the last minute than to make a new booking. And, as I found out when the cycle got cancelled in April, you can cancel without cost up to 24 hours in advance. So I did it, I booked a room. How's that for positive thinking!

Hurry up and wait

It's now 6 months since my last IVF egg retrieval. Six months. I think yesterday was 6 months to the day of my egg retrieval. Or transfer. Or something. Some big date that has now faded into memory. Did I get all thin and fit and toned in those six months? Ah, no. I lost 12 lbs, gained back 9, lost 3, gained back some. You know how it goes. I'm currently 5 lbs lighter than my heaviest. I am exercising most days, although it's often only walking. I am eating a healthy diet. In all, I'm not doing too bad. Apart from the being chunky part. And drinking too much wine, if I'm being honest, as I've got back on a wine kick since Memorial Day weekend.

But God, it's been a long wait. I never expected it to be anywhere near this long - I was ready to go in February, and could have cycled in February/March if it hadn't been for the coculture biopsy. I hope coculture is worth it after all this! Then I had to sit a month out due to the lab closure, then of course there was the cyst/hepatitis C debacle, and here I am. Ostensibly I'm sitting out another month waiting for the repeat negative hep C test, but I know as well as the RE knows that it's due to lab closure again. I mean, I know Big Clinic has one of the best labs anywhere, so I guess this whole cleaning/recalibrating/whatever they do thing works for them, but it is extremely frustrating sometimes.

AND it doesn't look like I've ovulated yet, so all my excitement on Sunday is coming to nothing again. EWCM on CD13 does not necessarily equal a nice CD14 or CD15 ovulation, sadly. So there's that. Not that it really matters in the grand scheme of things. Just so long as I DO ovulate, that's all that matters. And each additional day's delay means one less day of panicking over getting on the IVF schedule, as it becomes more likely that I'll have the repeat bloodwork results early next cycle. But still. A girl likes some things to go her way some of the time.

Sunday omelet

There's a post in here somewhere about how things keep breaking at home and how it must be a metaphor for my life or something. But that would be depressing. However, I just feel the need to mention that the following things need to be urgently fixed chez Sarah: the air conditioning, the clothes dryer, the dishwasher and the swimming pool pump. I do, at least, still have air conditioning. In half of the house, with some feeble cooling in the other half of the house. So that's something, but I was already told it'll be over $600 to fix it. Haven't even called about the others, and I only realized this morning that the pool pump is totally burned out which is probably a $1000+ repair. And I thought that not doing IVF would be easier on the budget. Sigh.

But, anyway, I wanted to post with good news. Good to me, that is. I have eggwhite! On CD13! Woo-hoo! If you have to ask "eggwhite what?" this is not the discussion for you. EWCM, silly. This is good news because since my last IVF I have had consistently late ovulation. I was beginning to get worried that I'd given myself PCOS or something from eating too much ice cream. Or if the four IVF cycles had permanently altered my cycles. But I was also getting these weird burning poky ovary pains at random times, seemingly unrelated to ovulation. I kind of ignored them because that's what I do with random pains. Ignorance is bliss, right? And then there was the cycle cancellation due to the 5cm ovarian cyst. Of course, I didn't equate burny poky pains with a cyst, because why would I? As far as I was concerned I didn't have any pain from the cyst, because I thought that that would involve constant pain.

This cycle, though, since overhauling my diet and mostly giving up dairy, I have definitely noticed the absence of poky burning ovary pains. And I suddenly went "Oh! I wonder if it means the cyst has gone down?" Of course, I don't know because of the lack of an ultrasound, but I have been hoping. And then today I had EWCM. At a more normal time of my cycle. In other words, not a week late. So that's made me hope even more that the cyst has gone, and maybe it was the cyst that was delaying my ovulation and not PCOS or something. So I hope things are good now for the IVF that I hope to get on the schedule for. But as we all know, things can easily change in the blink of an ultraound wand so I'm not going to hold my breath.

Enough about me - I also want to spare a thought for everyone facing bad news in this crappy IF world that we live in. To my dear Stephanie, my heart breaks for you, and Cindy I am thinking of you and hoping you are surviving. I hope you can both pick yourselves up and keep moving forward somehow.