One of the most dangerous feeling for me is hope.
On most days I dare not allow myself the luxury of indulging in it, but lately I've found myself unable to avoid it.
Earlier this summer when I had the chance to visit IVFlygirl, I found myself telling her of my plans of going back to work next year if I don't get pregnant. The moment the words left my mouth I felt mortified that even with her I couldn't let myself hope aloud.
I'm pretty sure that I immediately blurted out that, of course this was the plan only if our last transfer didn't work and that making plans was how I coped.
She generously took the remarks in stride, and we kept chatting.
But the truth is that, I want to have another child.
I want this with an incredible intensity.
Last week I was able to convince my doctor to allow me to have an endometrial scratch in the hopes of increasing my odds with our next FET . Although he doesn't include them in his typical cycle, I sent him an impassioned email explaining that I felt like we had to do something to change the protocol. Once he agreed, I had to jump through some hoops to get it done locally on the right day.
The moment I hung up the phone from getting my appointment scheduled, I felt this unfurling in my gut. It was hope rising in me.
Since that day, I've been trying to keep the hope tamped down.
Yeah, that's not working so well.