I'm feeling a bit sad and wistful today. Couple of things going on, I think, and so I'm sure I will just ride this out, but I can't exactly say I am enjoying it.
My formal last day of work is Friday. That means I have to give back the laptop and bberry. Also, since we use lotus notes, that means that if I want to save an email, I have to forward it to my personal account. Hence, I have spent the last several hours reading through over 5 years of old emails and choosing especially important ones to forward on and save. There's a lot of history in there, and I'm so sentimental that even making a decision to delete some of these is hard. Basically, I am shutting a door on part of my life, and that always makes me sad. I'm very happy to be leaving, and am essentially already gone, but it's just weird to say goodbye to a place that, for all of its challenges, was one of the best places I could have ever hoped to work.
Other reason for sadness? Aside from the gloomy grey weather? Had a talk with one of the REs today in response to my concern about the low follicle count. She agrees it isn't the response that they expected, given my numbers, etc., but is still pretty comfortable that we could get a few good quality embryos out of this cycle, assuming the little guys catch up to the bigger follicles. I guess we will know a lot more tomorrow, but I don't exactly feel a whole lot better about things. So I am just trying not to obsess about what my ovaries are doing.
I guess through all of this, what provided some comfort was that all of my numbers were very good and that I appeared to respond well to at least some of the drugs. And now that things are a little less positive? I am not sure what to think any more about the likelihood that this will work. I guess I'm just becoming convinced that this won't be easy at all (yeah -- that was clearly naivete on my part) and that I may not be one of those women who get lucky on their first cycle.
Breathe in. Breathe out. This will work. Maybe not on the first time, but it will work.