Just back from Pea’s step-brother’s wedding in Quaint Town Boasting Fall Colors and Picturesque Church Steeples in New England.
I love weddings! They are such a great mix of family and loved ones and friends, all to the purpose of celebrating two people’s affection and optimism for the future. Are there massively misogynist built-in rituals hearkening back to when a man would take a woman off her family’s hands? Yes. Are there inevitably miscommunications and mis-managed expectations such that familial relationships are strained? Yes. Will someone cry? Yes. Will all the people crying be crying only happy tears? Hopefully. Do I actually want to embark on planning my own if/when our visa snafu is ever sorted out? No, god no. But I will, eventually, because other people like going to weddings too.
Pea gets all dapper-ed up (even more so for this one, as he was a groomsman and got to wear a tux!), which makes me happy because he is oh-so-handsome in a suit. I get gussied up, which makes Pea happy because he loves when I wear skirts, and I almost never do. We slow dance. I fast dance and Pea bops good-naturedly alongside. There is cake, and I love very little so much as I love cake. This wedding also had pies!
The wedding was lovely. The weekend included some noteworthy events, including United-loses-our-luggage (only for a day, but one’s red-eye flight clothing cannot be considered appropriate attire for a rehearsal dinner), LM-wakes-up-with-angry-eye (“hello, may I request some non-down pillows, as I am allergic” “Oh, none of our pillows are down, they are all synthetic” “ah, I see, thank-you. It seems I have pink-eye”), LM-and-Pea-participate-in-surprise-wedding-flashmob (we’ve been dancing in our living room for two weeks learning the steps, and the whole group killed it. The bride’s face was priceless), and long-heartfelt-chat-with-difficult-parent-in-law-about-infertility (in which revelations about horrors and tragedies in his past were revealed, and we both cried in the car and then ate farmer’s market tomatoes. I was supposed to be baby-sitting him to give the groom some space. We ended up bonding over vegetables and lost babies.).
We got back last night at midnight our time (even later in Quaint Town time) after a very long busy weekend. I am exhausted. My eye is healing thanks to antibiotic ointment from someone at the wedding who had just had pink-eye and still had the tube in her travel bag (sketchy, but it is healing and it no longer seems that removing the eye might be preferable to keeping it, so I’m guessing this was the right treatment).
Lab book update: crazy post-miscarriage/post-provera cycle continues: a positive opk on Wednesday but then I didn’t take my temperature over the weekend given time changes and alcohol at dinners. I decided instead to do the follow-up blood test the clinic had requisitioned for this morning. Estradiol is now 65 and progesterone is up at 12, so I definitely ovulated, and my progesterone seems just fine for 4 dpo. We gave it a go with perfect timing: two days and one day before ovulation. I ovulated on cycle day six, so let’s all assume my lining was a bit of a mess and that this is unlikely to work, but hey, we tried, and I threw an egg out all on my own, so that’s something even if it wasn’t particularly well orchestrated.