I can’t bring myself to any build-up or false expressions of hope right now. Cycle Two was unsuccessful and we are not pregnant. In light of the events I witnessed in Boston this week, this is the least of my concerns. I would love to tell our readers, and perhaps even myself, that I am still disappointed, but in the more than three years we have been trying to conceive, I have never cared less.
I just can’t seem to care right now.
Saturday, April 13: OFF. Travel to Boston early in the morning, and a second day off in preparation for Boston. Since my period is technically due on Sunday (but may be delayed due to the progesterone supplements), I’m tapering fully in the event that a NON-pregnancy is confirmed and I’m in the position of seeing how much juice is in my legs. Also OFF in terms of chemicals, shots, hormones and pills! Besides the fact that I can’t have alcohol, I get to go out to dinner like a big girl without sneaking away to do shots or shove things where the sun don’t shine.
Sunday, April 14: 3 easy morning miles around Copley Plaza and Boston Common. Legs don’t feel like I had hoped – especially after two days of rest – but I also recall many great marathons with a crappy taper run the day before. The air is crisp but not cold, and the energy of the all the other runners getting in shakeouts or preparing for the BAA 5K is electric. Afterwards, we spend hours in the stands with friends watching the 5K and invitational mile races. First shot at a pregnancy test since I’ve usually tested the hcg out by now – and it looks pretty negative. I can squint, but at least I know I’m doing it. I’m also bloated to the moon and licking salt off my Sun Chips. There’s not a lot of mystery here about what’s coming.
Monday, April 15: 26.2 miles. They are retrospectively burned into my brain. I did a pregnancy test before we left. It was clearly negative. It was sad but not unexpected. This was the last time I would care.
Tuesday, April 16: @2 miles at a local “Strong for Boston” run. My legs hurt terribly, but my heart hurt worse.
Wednesday, April 17: 4 miles and a single spinning class. I shouldn’t have run but I had to. I had a bad moment in spinning when they played AC/DC’s “Thunderstruck.” It was too loud and I started having flashbacks. There is a loud noise at the end of the song and I instinctively jumped while on my bike. My period started early Wednesday morning and I scheduled my baseline scan for the next day.
Thursday, April 18: 9 early morning miles and a single spinning class. I have trouble with flashbacks again when I close my eyes in spinning. Baseline scan with my second favorite doctor. The cyst from the chemical pregnancy is gone and I have no cysts from cycle two so we are clear to proceed. I was concerned that because I will be traveling next week, we would have to take a rest cycle, but the doctor tells me we’re going to give a whirl and see what we can do. My personal doctor is out of town and I mention that we had discussed changing my stimulation drugs. They feel, however, that I typically have a very good response to Follistim and that we may have “pushed” the last cycle a bit with the cyst. Shots begin again on Friday at my favorite dose.
Friday, April 19. OFF. I was supposed to run, but I spent most of the day glued to the television. This is the day that I went down the rabbit hole. I have been holding it together, and I will be forever grateful that I was blessed to see only what I saw in person. I saw things, but I could have seen far worse. Friends saw worse. What I saw and felt was horrific and forever burned in my brain, and my heart still beats quickly when I close my eyes to things I don’t want to see. I felt my hotel collapse to the ground no less than half a dozen times before we left, and mortal fear does not leave one any more quickly than gruesome visions.
Today was the day that it all caught up with me, in an overwhelming wave of fatigue, sorrow and grief. I stayed in my pajamas, ate cereal for dinner, took naps and watched tv and answered emails. My mental health and decompression day finally taken, tomorrow I will get up properly – and run on.
100 iu’s of Follistim. Round three begins.
A final thought: those that read my thoughts on our first post about Boston know that I focused on the heroic actions of the volunteers, and not what I saw from our window. I will not be discussing these things on Salty Running, or adding to the volumes of information that exist. I know there are people who are interested in knowing where I was and what I saw. You have seen what I saw; I simply saw it there, through a hotel room window directly overlooking the finish line and the medical tent.
Weekly totals: 43 miles, two hours of spinning, 100 iu’s of Follistim.
I am overwhelmed by the love, care and concern I have felt and received from so many. To all of you who called, texted, checked Facebook or simply cared: THANK YOU. From the bottom of my battered heart, thank you.
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