First, worried and worried and worried about “normal” activity today and whether I should or shouldn’t go up and down stairs. And I reminded myself there’s hope.
Then, I tortured myself by reading articles about bedrest vs. no bedrest after IVF. Turns out some studies show bedrest may result in a lower success rate. Great…after just laid as though I was in a coma for two days. And I also culled from the articles that unless you take repeated rides on a roller coaster, there’s nothing you can do to make successful or unsuccessful at this point.
Next, I decided I was going to threaten to shank my acupuncturist tomorrow if she didn’t tell me if I was pregnant or not from my pulse. I hear they have great maternity care in prison.
After that, I jammed a long needle full of progesterone into my thigh and wondered why I am bothering. I got a little angry as some of the progesterone dribbled out of the little hole.
Finally, I looked at new donors on my agency’s website. Not that I’m really sure I could or should go forward if the Stragglers didn’t take.
Nothing like calling it over before the fat lady sings.
Or did I.