Eight embryos.
We got eight embryos.
I’m scared to say that I’m happy, or grateful, or pleased.
I derive no joy from this news. I know it’s good news but it’s a very loaded type of good news.
What are the implications of our success?
More failure? Disappoint? A second, third, fourth miscarriage?
The universe is just waiting for me to express any form of happiness before snatching it all away from me.
What if my pregnancies are never safe? What if this target on my back is permanent?
I don’t know if I’m allowed to think ahead at my potential pregnancy and plan for it.
Would buying a cot or pushchair at 36 weeks be too premature? Would I be testing fate? Getting too ahead of myself?
Am I only safe once the baby is in my arms breathing or will I still be at risk of losing them?
When can I be happy? Why is life taking so much away from me?
We have our frozen embryo transfer booked in for sometime in April. My period started yesterday so I’m currently on birth control pills, which I’ll take until the 28th March, then I’ll bleed. That bleed will be the first day of my next cycle, then I will start taking estrogen pills to thicken up my uterine lining before adding progesterone into the mix. From my calculations, my transfer will be on or around the 19th April. Of course, the fool that I am, I have calculated my potential due date; 5th January 2024 if I’m having one baby and 15th December if twins.
I’ve been freaking out about having two embryos transferred. All these questions and scenarios in my head, but I’m trying to trust the process. My doctor has done so well to get us to where we currently are, now I’ll let him finish what he’s started. I just fear that putting two embryos back will be a waste if my uterine environment isn’t receptive to them, or that if one is weak, it’ll bring the other down. Also the potential for pregnancy and birth complications. It’s all very scary. But I will continue to sit tight and let things happen to and for me instead of taking an active role in my life, I seem to be attract bad luck.
My middle sister Elfa turns 25 tomorrow! Shocking! That’s the age I started this journal. I wonder if my mindset and writing has changed from when I was 25. Maybe I’ll read back to earlier entries and see the child I really was.
Recently I’ve been really feeling… older. It’s weird. Telis‘ hair is greying, his friends are balding and these are my peers. I too am like them, I’m ageing. I feel sad for my disappearing youth. I don’t know if I act any older than I did at 25 but I’m not 25 anymore. I’m 30 and only getting older. When I look in the mirror, will I stop recognising myself? If so, when?
I don’t know man…
Life is weird.
I wonder if God knows I’m not talking to him. I’ve made it a point to not direct any of my thoughts or questions to him. Ain’t no way I’m saying a prayer. Every prayer has been taken, twisted and turned into something ugly. No, no, no. God doesn’t care about me so I have nothing to say.