All aboard the crazy train

So I ovulated. I know, earth shattering stuff. I now get to start my estrace to get ready for my next cycle. So I am filling the little daily pill planner that has been sitting, neglected and forgotten, in a drawer.  I have to say, I am kind of excited to start again. Or maybe it is relief. We will see what happens this time. At the beginning of this, stim seemed like the easy thing to do, the stress free part. My AMH was 3.92 for god’s sake. That was supposed to be a walk in the park. Oops. Having my first cycle canceled was a little shocking. It certainly gave me a new perspective. My nurse tells me every cycle is very different. Hopefully that is true in my case. 

I am sure I have said it before, but dealing with the stress of IVF has made me a little apathetic towards other people’s trivial problems and crises. Namely my sister’s issues. Most of them are self inflicted because she is lazy. She doesn’t take care of things in a timely manner and so they explode into big problems. This happens with everything, I seriously mean everything. For example, she freaked out and had a tantrum at a liquor store the other day because she forgot her reusable bag to put her  booze in, which was a six pack and a bottle of wine. Also she carries a giant purse she could have put stuff in. Anyway, it was so bad the lady that checked me out gave me a look like, “WTF is going on with her!?” I shook my head and shrugged. It was awful. She is almost 30. And this was probably the 3rd or 4th freak out since I had met up with her 30 minutes earlier. We were supposed to go to a concert. 15 minutes later I was telling her to pull over the car because I couldn’t handle her freaking out anymore. It was incredible. Her rationale for acting so terrible was she was PMSing, like it only happens to her. 

She is one of those people who really feels persecuted but in reality isn’t. I talked to her about the struggles of coming to terms with infertility as woman and how it really messes with your identity. She compared that to financial trouble with her ex husband, which is another long drawn out story that revolves around some unbelievably poor choices she made.  I have stopped talking to her about IVF altogether.

Luckily, I have a great support system without her. My mother-in-law’s boyfriend does keep asking me if I am feeling ok. I know he is doing it out of kindness and genuine concern but sometimes I just want to shout, “I am not broken!” right in his face. Another friend I told never asks questions, she waits for me to offer information. I appreciate that. My best friend is my biggest cheerleader but she lives in London. But she is great, the right balance of optimism and realism. I have already told how great my husband and mother-in-law are. I can easily cut my sister out of the picture. I really only told her because if I have endometriosis, she is 7 times more likely to have it. That’s a big deal. Look at the boat it put me in.


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