As I was driving for my baseline ultrasound on Thursday, my mood was totally different than last time. I was neutral. Not even a little bit excited. Waiting for the news of a massive cyst. Or some other bodily horror that only I seem able to produce.
So when they found three small cysts, I was done. I called DH. Told him I was throwing in the towel. That I absolutely could not take this any more. Always the dramatic one, I said that all of these meds were going to be the death of me. Always the exaggerater, I then said that starting and stopping meds one million times per month is NOT normal and surely going to kill me!
Given my readiness to give up, what happens next seems fairly obvious in my strange world of contradictions. The nurse calls to tell me that my estrogen levels are fine. That I can proceed to the next step and start my stims the next morning. What? So let me get this straight. Last cycle. One cyst. RE said it should be fine. Cycle cancelled. This cycle. Three cysts. RE expressed concerned. Cycle is good to go. Apparently the cysts from this cycle are not of the estrogen-sucking variety (not exactly the medical term, but my translation).
My body is like the boy in high school that wants the girl to like him but does not want to commit. Each time that he sees that she might just be ready to move on with her life, he feeds her just enough attention to give her hope. To keep her hanging on. So too, my body has fed me my little dangling carrot of hope. And like the silly school girl, I will not move on from this infertility battle. I will not throw in the towel. I will hang on for one more day. And hope and pray that this cycle is the one. That somehow this time things will be different and I won't end up with a broken heart.
Since Friday, I have been taking gonal-f at the lowest possible dose to avoid OHSS. I return for an ultrasound on Tuesday. Please, please, please... do not lead me on anymore. Make a commitment already!!!
