I had my last PIO shot on Friday.  We probably should have finished out the full 7 days, but Chris was rushing to a gig and there was no way I could get up enough courage to stick myself with the big needle so I went without.  Now I just wait for AF to rear her ugly head so I am packing a few emergency pads for the trip east.

I have been keeping an eye on the blogs/fertility boards/Youtube vlogs and watching some women get their BFP’s, others deal with the crushing negative beta results and others just going into their 2ww.  It’s been a gauge for me to anonymously watch some of these ladies go through this experience; secretly following the ones who’s cycles matched mine all the while watching, reading, learning, hoping along with them.  My heart truly aches for the ones who have to start again.  I know that could be us come July, and it’s humbling to read about.

Physically:  I have broken out like a 14 year old.  It’s horrible.  I have gained 7lbs from this roller coaster and have been brought to my knees by the cravings my hormones shackle me with.  It’s insane.

Mentally: I have to be honest, it’s hard to see pregnant women.  Chris and I were in Lowes the other day, and I turned down one aisle, looked up and saw this lovely girl in a yellow tank top and skirt just about 7-8 months along.  There was a bizarre and totally unexpected feeling of worthlessness that came over me by just looking at her.  I was caught unawares and to this moment cannot sort out if I feel awful about feeling like that, or feel awful because I was so aware of it.

Even though I believed I mentally prepared myself for this not going forward, or working out the way we expected, I am still disappointed that we were unable to do a fresh transfer.  I need to get over it right quick and just look towards July.