Underwear Patrol

I haven't been thinking so much about the IUI lately as not thinking about it. I think that by 10 days past ovulation I'm pretty much waiting for my own personal doomsday to arrive. This isn't negative thinking so much as an act of self preservation at this point. I'm pretty sure everyone does this. Any shred of hope is cast carelessly aside and there is a precise mental list of "next steps:" -- order new meds, call doctor, update labs, all necessary steps for moving on to the next IUI and the next and the next.

I have started having cramps, and where I used to call these early cramps implantation!!, I now stoically remark that they are probably the beginning of d-day. I'm on full alert, but here is the old lower backache, the dreaded bloatedness and the general and absolute beginning of fatigue. The only thing left is the splat of confirmation telling me that it's definitely time to put the dusty old hope villain away for another time. I no longer am bothered to wipe off the fingerprint smudges before stashing him in his well worn little cardboard box. Hope is funny like that, you're much more careless with it when it hasn't gracefully seen you through all of your difficult moments. Somehow, maybe out of pure unadulterated habit, you keep bringing it along each time for the ride.

My temps have been a little all over the place. It's been a little difficult in the new place to take a proper temperature. Seb gets up at ungodly hours for his training, baby S is awake at the crack of dawn one day and then sleeping until 10:30 the next. I'm up and down a few times a night. I've tried to adjust the temps accordingly but It's still kind of unclear what's going on. One good thing I suppose is that I haven't had a drop below coverline...yet.

I definitely miss my chart. I really miss our home.