Here’s what my brain is doing.
“What if it was because I did X*? Why did I do X? No, lab monkey, X is not relevant. It was too early/not impactful/irrelevant. Stop blaming yourself, chemical pregnancies just happen.”
Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
Also, Pea and I got in a fight last night (our fifth of our whole relationship). I recognize now that when we are both hungry, tired, sad, and mad at life, it is not the right time to have an emotionally charged ‘what’s the plan now?’ conversation. Also, I don’t think Pea had given up hope, quite, and I dashed it. This seems to be my role in beta conversations. So we fought, and he started his silent treatment approach, so I cried. Usually I’m too stubborn, but yesterday it was all I could do to not be crying, so they weren’t crocodile tears. We made up, but haven’t resolved the issue. And fair enough, I’m technically still pregnant.
What the future likely holds is an IVF in late August/early September. Which will be expensive, and terrible timing if successful, and will put a crimp in our plans to travel all of California and environs in the fall when it is cool enough, because I might get cold feet about flying. But hey, it hasn’t been fun or cheap so far (compared to the natural route), why would I expect anything else?
I’m grumpy. I’m emotionally ok, but I am hella grumpy. I am SO GLAD I didn’t bring any tests on our trip though. Because manic obsession over faint lines darkening and then fading would be a terrible legacy for what was instead a delightful vacation.
* X has so far equalled “screw up my estrogen patches (which contain 1.36 mg estrogen, deliver 0.1 mg per day, and are usually prescribed to be changed every 3 and then 4 days (twice weekly). I was meant to change mine every 3, was late one day. This did not change my estrogen dose, I am now positive)”, “hike so much (I was not sore after, nor did I overheat)”, and then it skirls into deeply crazy territory which I will not subject you to…