Back on the road again.

So, here we are. IUI cycle number 4. Freaking fantastic.

Friday was a terrible, terrible day for me. I took the bad news a heck of a lot harder than I thought I would. I thought that waiting for the beta rather than taking a HPT would be so much easier. Boy, what a fool I am. It was just as hard, if not worse. Knowing that there was no hope, no chance was so harsh. At least with an HPT you get that ‘Hmmm, maybe it’s too early!’ hope, but with a beta, nope. You either are or you’re not. No way around it. It must suck to be an RE’s nurse, knowing that the phone call you’re going to make is about to devastate someone’s day. I would hate that part of my job.

R ended up coming home to console me because I was such a hysterical mess. Poor guy. He really gets the shit end of all of this. His natural “must fix this” instinct kicked in and he ended up calling the RE’s office to talk to the nurse to find out what to do next. I was in no shape to call or talk to anyone for most of the afternoon, so they discussed what to do next. The nurse said that the doctor was very ‘encouraged’ by how well I responded to the medications, so he wants to try another Femara/IUI cycle. R is going to be away on a business trip on CD14, when I’ll be ready for the IUI, so he worked it out with the nurse to have a sample dropped off this Thursday and then frozen so that if he’s not in town I can still go ahead with the IUI. Just the thought of skipping a month and having to wait six weeks to try again was enough to make me want to curl up and cry all over again. So, I think we have to pay the storage and thawing fees, but R said that was nothing to him. I think he was just so happy to be able to ‘do’ something to make me feel even the tiniest bit better.

L9 and a few friends from work took me out to celebrate getting my degree. Of course, it was on Friday night, so I was already in a ‘screw the world’ mood and ended up drinking way to much for my own good. L9, always my guardian angel, made sure that I didn’t make too much of an ass of myself. When we got back to my house, we sat outside and chatted for a while about how much life was changing for both of us. She’s moving back to her home state and I’m done with school and completely infertile. Amazing how much life can change in a few years. We’ve seen each other at least once a week for the past eight years. Eight years of best-friendship. I think seeing her move hits me harder even than getting another negative test.

I can’t write anymore. It’s all too depressing right now.