My hcg level is down to "0." Zero. Zip. Nada. Phlgbbt. In a sad sort of way, I appreciate my body for taking care of things. I don't have to linger through weeks of slowly decreasing hcg levels, which easily could have allowed a blip of hope to arise. My return to zero means I don't have an ectopic. In fact, zero means I can start again anytime I want. A new beginning. A clean slate. Cue blue birds with spun gold in their happy little beaks.
If I had written this post last Saturday, it would have had a very different feel. The bitterness of "zero" would have been too good to pass up and the bluebirds would have been plucked, grilled and eaten with a tangy remoulade. Whether it's a good thing or not, my family and some friends read this blog and they have a tendency to get worried if I sound particularly morose. More so, if I shoot bluebirds. My phantom Saturday post would have had a Jack Nicholson in the Shining feel:
I AM SAD AND PISSED. I AM SAD AND PISSED. I AM SAD AND PISSED. SAD. PISSED.
And I do feel much, much better. Really. But I didn't post on Saturday because I was sad and pissed. I didn't post because I didn't want to have to explain later in phone calls that I was sad and pissed, but ok. So I need to add a disclaimer to my family and friends who read this, my struggle with infertility blog. Here goes:
I'm still me. I have not morphed into someone whose sole interest in life is having a child. I continue to be stronger than the average bear. I continue to work. Hard. I continue to have dreams beyond simply having a child. I would love to write fiction. I would really love to go to culinary school. I continue to be the only one in the room who laughs at my jokes. It is simply not my fault that others have no sense of humor. E and I continue to have a wonderful, "how in the world did we get so lucky" relationship, even though he doesn't know where we keep the vacuum. (Dammit, it's in the kitchen closet.) Please don't feel sorry for me and please don't suggest that I'm focusing too much on this having a child thing because of what I write here. This blog is about one subject, which happens to be a fairly emotional one. And a personal one. I get a great amount of support from the act of writing here and from the comments. By reading this blog, you subject yourself to the jurisdiction of me, the Supreme Queen Goddess, which could mean anything I want, depending on the day and my mood. So conduct yourself accordingly. Don't coddle or pity me, unless I ask for it or unless you too have struggled with infertility, then coddle away.
There, that feels better. Thank you for listening. Please sign the attached waiver in triplicate before a notary and we'll be ready to roll. Again.