Just. Keep. Effing. Swimming.

So, here I am today – all Jam-Planned and Suck-It-Uped. No pms symptoms, other than a very upset stomach last night (which I chalked up to my very stomach-upsetting Metformin).

Pop out of my 1st class for a super-fast pee, and there it is. An out-of-nowhere, thought-you’d-have-to-have-Provera, guess-what-you’re-not-this-month surprise.

My first thoughts were happy because now the waiting is over. We can get started with the next cycle, and I can go ahead and get these injections I’ve been dreading over with.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” laughed the universe.

Upon my phone call to my friendly neighborhood RE’s office, I discovered, much to my shock, that my new protocol is a TWO cycle one, which begins with a 1st cycle of NO TTC.

Say what?

They failed to explain this to me thoroughly enough when they called to give me the bad news about the Femara earlier in this cycle. I was under the impression that I would be starting Follistim with my next cycle, with a trigger shot through the middle.

Silly, silly me.

So, here we are. CD1, birth control Rx in the pipeline to the local pharmacy, and an appointment scheduled to teach me and the Hubs the ins and outs of shooting myself up with Lupron.

More on all of this later. The one thing I know is we are sure as hell taking at least the afternoon off work on 9/28. Appointment is at 11, and I deserve some time off after that. Because I’m going back on birth control, dammit. And a girl deserves something nice after news this blindside-ingly crappy.

On the whole, I am handling it very well. My first thought was, “Ok this will give me some time to lose some more weight before I get knocked up, and at least my period will be over before Hubby’s bday.”

I did have a very bad afternoon, to be honest. It’s not all glass-half-full over here. My poor afternoon classes. They were taught by some grumpy, ghost-version of myself as the news started to set it that we have to wait again. I was very quiet, despondent even, on the way home from work and through dinner. Now I’m just feeling quite sarcastic. Is that a stage of grief? I think it should be.

For tonight, I am responding in two ways: blogging and eating my feelings. Next weekend I will be drinking my feelings in honor of Hubby’s bday party. Between now and then, I guess I will:

1. Grade all currently collected papers

2. Finish stacked flower pot project

3. Do some yardwork

In honor of my morning suprise, here’s some period poetry.

Eighteen

red on white

of monthly swipe

secures all dreams,

and fuels a rushing stream

of raging relief

Twenty-Eight

red on white

of monthly swipe

dashes all dreams,

and fuels an endless stream

of stinging salt

efforts brought to halt

all for naught