Control Freak

I'm surprised by my lapse in writing. It's not for lack of content. There have been at least 15 occasions on which I thought- Hey, that would be a great blog topic. And I have been harboring this blog title for quite some time. But shit happens and then it's December.

So Jessi and I were together when we found out the last transfer was a no go. I had talked her into trying out a class called "Barre Sculpt" where you hold onto a ballet barre like a beautiful ballerina whilst pulling your abdominal muscles to your spine, lifting your leg so your toes touch the top of your head and swearing like a sailor. It's amazing. You would love it! In our company was one of our all-time favorite yoga teachers who appeared effortless at these tasks and a great, motivating, inspirational caring fitness follower who is one of those people who makes you feel like a million bucks every time you see her.  Mid-class Jessi ran to the bathroom when her phone rang. I followed and made eye contact with her as she subtly shook her head no. Not knowing what to do next, I retreated and returned to my mat on the floor to squeeze, lift and lengthen some more. The instructor went on, giving cues "if you have lower back issues or are pregnant, don't do this." I wasn't. So I did.

And then. Then. The hot beats of Boom Boom Pow filled the air and I thought, "it's a sign."

I don't really know what the sign indicated. I can't tell. It could have been inspirational. Comforting. Coincidence. Nothing else indicated anything so it probably didn't mean anything.

After a few drunk texts between Jessi and I, we came up with a new plan. Not while drunk, don't worry. We were given the choice of repeating the hormone treatments that we had just failed with or using my natural cycle. Jessi figured that I had done this before with my natural cycle, so why not try it!

All of the hormones I had taken up to this point had been in an effort to have the doctor's control my cycle and have my cycle "sync" with Jessi's natural cycle so that the embryos would be happier. Well, that didn't work, did it? But I have done this before...So maybe I can do it without someone else "controlling" how my body works.

On Tuesday, when I went into the clinic for my first ultrasound since the failed transfer, Dr. D was super impressed with the thickness of my endometrium. By Thursday, he was less impressed, but still willing to go forward. And I asked the question, "is it possible that my endometrium is just thinner than other endometriums?" "Yes," he says, "but statistics say...."

And what did we learn about statistics?