So today is day 35 which in my world is D Day. Either AF is going to show up in all her raging annoyingness or she's not. If she does I'm headed under the knife next Wednesday for ovarian drilling, tube flushing anduterus scraping. If she doesn't then tomorrow I plan to pee on a stick and cross my fingers for that BFP that has been eluding me for 15 months.
All week I've had tender, sore breasts and increased appetite, accompanied by waves of nausea. It's so hard to not get my hopes up after so many unsuccessful cycles, drugging myselfbwithbeltrozole, trying not to go crazy, and crying every time I see a pampers commercial. Then all of a sudden a tiny speck of hope gets into my brain and says "Chelsea ... I know you're looking forward to time off work but too bad cause this is it. You're going to get your BFP. Buckle up" and as quickly as that hope comes I kill it. Remembering every negative test I've ever taken. And all the pain I feel as I realize this may never happen. Am I fooling myself? I don't know. Hopefully soon I know.