Going back

With the Critter successfully surviving her first year, and me surviving it too, Mr. P and I have had the talk. You know the talk. The number 2 talk. And we ain't talking poo.

As I'm sure you all recall with perfect clarity, because my reproductive health is always the first thought on your mind ("I wonder if Pie is ovulating today" you say as you roll out of bed. No? Not really? Huh.), we have 3 frozen euploid blasts chillaxing in the deep freeze at the far away clinic. We did our family planning on the front end, cycling extra times when I was younger so we could bank some pretty blasts. I age, they don't.

So when dear old Auntie Flo came to visit this week, I made the call. I had been in touch with my nurse at the far away clinic a month or so ago, just to reconnect and ask what I needed to do to get the ball rolling again. Noncommittal, just info gathering. But this call was real. I set up an appointment to go back to the far away clinic.

It is really happening again. I'm on the books for February 10 to go back for a FET one-day workup.

WOW.

I'm not looking forward to injecting myself with all sorts of crazy-making hormones again (ugh, including 2 months of depot loopyron, ugh ugh ugh) but a girl does what she has to do I guess, right? It seems like eons ago that I had needles in the house. It was such a non-event for so long, I was so used to injecting myself - but now I'm feeling apprehensive about it. It's like I'm a newbie all over again.

Well, fasten your seatbelts, because here we go again. The roller coaster is leaving the platform.