I got an email from a friend (who recently had twins after IVF) checking in to see if I was pregnant and not telling (ha!), mad at her (um, no) or just really busy (we have a winner!)
I’m still immersed in the writing, so this will be brief and probably not all that exciting. I apologize for my general lack of posting and commenting - sometimes I sneak a few minutes of blog reading, but my commenting is really pathetic right now. These papers are kicking my ass. Not sure if I’m going to finish on time, but I’m trying to take it day by day. My therapist said some especially useful things today. One was less something she said and more an agreement - that I’ll keep plowing ahead for another week, but we can reassess then. Because thinking about several more weeks of this is enough to drive me mad. I’ve been worried that somehow my stress levels in this month leading up to the IVF will impact our success, and I don’t want to be sitting here in December blaming myself for a failed IVF due to stress. My lovely therapist (she needs a name, doesn’t she? Dr. Groovy, I think - she has some groovy glasses, and funky hair - we’ll try that for now) - anyway, Dr. Groovy pointed out that people get pregnant under the worst kinds of stresses imaginable (rape, famine, whatever) and that I shouldn’t be blaming myself for stress or its effect on IVF. “You probably will anyway,” she said, “and I’ll tell you the same thing then.”
Also, I wore my snazzy shirt (many thanks to Ollie) to my appointment today, and Dr. Groovy loved it. “Yes,” she said. “Telling a woman going through IVF to relax is one of the worst possible things to do. It just makes it more stressful.”
Um, yeah. And it’s not like I’m not already stressed.