I started a post a couple of days about how I felt fine. Really, really fine. So fine, in fact, that I almost typed "this pregnancy stuff is a breeze." Cheeky words from a woman who's only in her seventh week of pregnancy. Today, 7w6d, I kind of don't feel fine. I feel like I've been on a 3 day bender of vodka, cigarettes and cheetos. I feel hung over. Kind of ooey. Headachey. Sour stomachy. Nothing too dramatic, just out of sorts. Sad that the best way I know to describe it is hung over, but that's exactly how I feel. Don't rat me out, but yesterday, I shut my office door, closed the blinds, redirected my phone calls, spread my coat out on the floor and slept for 30 minutes. I'm fairly sure I've never done that hung over. Did it help? While napping, sure. Waking up sucked. Bed time at 8pm was a dream.
What concerns me is the headache part. I've had migraines all my life except for the last five years. Inexplicably, they just went away. No idea why. But last night I woke up with a headache on the left side of my forehead. It eventually went away with a cold cloth and Tylenol, but I so hope that this isn't going to be a trend. Particularly because Tylenol is not my drug of choice in situations such as these. Demerol, yes; Tylenol, uh no!
Even more odd than the symptom watch is how strange it feels to talk about it at all; like an impostor at a costume ball. In my deepest heart, this last IVF, my third fresh cycle, was what I needed to let go. What I mean is that I knew that I couldn't walk away from our efforts to have a biological child unless I felt that I had given it everything I had to give and then some. This 3rd IVF was that for me. Not even my harshest critic--me--could blame me from wiping my hands and saying I'd had enough. I didn't feel that after my 2nd IVF failed. I felt that I couldn't walk away. Yet. This was going to be my--dare I say it?-- closure, one way or another. Unlike with any of my other cycles, this one was just going to be whatever the hell it ended up being. I was just going to take the outcome, the good, the bad or the ugly, and deal with it. Sounds like "just relax and it will happen," huh? God, I hope not. IVF, no matter how many times you go through it, is anything but relaxing. IVF #3 gave me acceptance, even before the outcome.
All this to say, again and again and again, the fat lady (who is actually looking a lot like me these days) hasn't sung on this one. Tomorrow is eight weeks, which is excruciatingly early. No plans have been made, no decisions, no material objects dealing with maternity hood have been purchased. Just coasting. Coasting and hoping.