This has been a week of endlessly germinating thoughts and unpublished blog posts because I don’t seem to be able to find the time to see a single idea from start to end. Even writing for work has been trying and I haven’t been able to find 5 minutes for a run. Why? I’m blaming the progesterone. Because progesterone is a bitch.
But anyway. I’m in the final countdown to transfer – lift-off is at 8.30am on Wednesday. My lining clocked in at 10mm (9.7-9.9mm in some parts) on Friday, so the doc is confident enough that this is a go. I’m not so sure why my gut feels a lot more tentative about it, but I guess I’ll just roll with it. It would have been hilarious, though, if the doc had said: Ok, let’s roll, and I shook my head and said: “Hang on, hand me that dildo-cam for a second look”. Especially seeing as I don’t speak uterine blob.
The big spanner in the works is that the Man has had a work meeting that same day that’s been in the making for over a month, and it’s scheduled for 10am across town the same day. With rush hour traffic, it’s highly unlikely he can make both. Of course, it seems obvious that he should just say: screw work, this is my baby we’re talking about. But there are a number of things at play here:
- Work is also important to him/us. And if this were a regular workday, he’d have no issue pushing it aside. He’s been talking about this meeting for a long while and it cannot be rescheduled based on the ‘gods’ that are attending.
- Technically, he isn’t really required to be at the transfer. Apart from by me – to hold my hand, to play really stupid, inappropriate music, to make me laugh (because. science), and then to single-mindedly locate the closest french fries. Especially since this is our last little embryo, which has my tummy turning cartwheels.
Of course, if this the cycle in which EVERYTHING is different, then it will be the one in which I get to bring home a baby. Of course, that might also mean this is the one transfer the Man doesn’t attend.
I can’t believe I’m sitting here trying to rationalise this.
Anyway, someone in my IVF support group also helpfully offered this up: “One day, you can tell your child you got pregnant without Daddy even being there 😂. What a magic trick!”
It’s a kind of magic, alright!! Had to say it made me laugh. Not sure he’ll be as amused about that one though. 😛