Chicken Little

I have been a little Chicken Littlish of late...or perhaps my whole life. I've always had a flair for melodrama and tend to always be the "cup half empty" kind of gal. Thank goodness I married a delusionally optimistic ballast so that between our two temperments we sail with some semblence of realism and stability.

On Monday, I had some bloodwork done and it indicated that my estrogen levels had decreased and the nurse prescribed some Estrogen. When I asked the nurse whether this was an indication that the cycle hadn't worked, she said that she would have my doctor call me to discuss, which only fueled my "sky is falling" premonitions. Of course, as soon as I got off the phone, my busy little fingers dashed to Dr. Google whose typical doom and gloom diagnosis confirmed my worst fears. To further fuel the fire, the doctor was dismissive of my concerns and refused to either confirm or deny that this was an indication that the cycle didn't work.

Commence with approximately three hours of crying. (One hour of which was behind closed blinds in my office...very professional, eh?)

Once my hubby got home to watch Nugget, I dragged up my files from my first IVF cycle and found that my estrogen levels had a similar drop and I was prescribed estrogen then, too. And, we know how that worked out (yeah, Nugget!).

For the remainder of the cycle, I am going to do my best NOT to think about it...not to analyze every little thing:

I.e., do my boobs hurt? I think so. Maybe my bra is too tight. No, they definitely feel different. But, do they hurt? No, it's more of just a "feeling" but not necessarily pain. Let's squeeze them. Nope, that didn't hurt. But, are my nipples different? A little darker? Sigh.

Hmm, I feel a little winded coming up the stairs. Maybe I'm pregnant? Or, maybe I'm just out of shape.

Oooh. I'm kind of crampy today. Period crampy. It didn't work. It's over.

Only five more days until I let myself take a pregnancy test.....