My MIL and I put up the holiday decorations yesterday, so now the tree is lit and ornaments hang from our happy lights. This morning it was cold and dry enough to boil orange peels and spices on the stove. Yesterday we finally turned on the heat for the first time in two years and, with all the windows open, burned off the accumulated dust.
The wheel turns and we inch along, living and reliving, repeating and experiencing anew. In my research to make this holiday season more meaningful for my wife and I – since we’ll be spending it at home, on our own, this year – I’ve come across the theme of hope again and again.
Hope – I can hope, and it’s very appropriate in the coming weeks. As if waiting for me to panic and decide we’re going to move our medicated attempts one cycle ahead – aka, to the end of this cycle instead of the next – my body gave me a very painful ovulation early last week. I must have had a massive cyst, because I’ve never had that kind of pain outside of the proper bleeding portion.
I had assumed it would be another week or two when I made that proclamation, so when I was able to 100% confirm that was what happened, I had a little bit of a panic attack. DPO5 today means CD1 on the 7th, CD14 on the 21st, which means cutting it VERY CLOSE with the wedding in July. I freaked out until Lady and I could sit down and run the numbers and determine that if, somehow, it happened the first medicated try, I’d be 33-34 weeks and just under the absolute cut-off for flying.
That’s cutting it *very close*. I know, I’m counting chickens before they hatch, but I don’t want to miss this wedding almost as much as I don’t want to skip this cycle and risk my next cycle being extra long again. It’s like: I know if I skip, our next chance won’t be until February and then I’ll only have had one medicated attempt, BUT I know if I don’t skip it’ll work but it’ll be too early and I’ll miss my very good friend’s wedding.
So what would you do?
What I’m going to do is thread the needle and let my very good friend know what’s going on and hope and then jump and do it. I know my body and I know the stress I put myself under by skipping will be far, far worse than going ahead. We’ll get three tries this way, and I’ll be that much more able to say I’m done if it doesn’t work by March.
I hope this works out. I hope I can make the wedding. I hope this is the best decision. I hope.