with relief.  Which makes a nice change from wallowing in grief.  Though it is pretty damned strange to be feeling more pregnant than ever, while knowing that I’m not, and actively waiting to begin bleeding again.  Seriously whimpered this morning swinging the girls out of bed.  

Ouch.  

Oddly, (or maybe not, given my year), the news of the chemical pregnancy itself isn’t causing me too much grief.  Yeah, I’d've much rather cycle #2 had worked properly.  I wish I was 5 weeks pregnant today.   But it didn’t and I’m really not.  I don’t feel any connection to those few cells that haven’t yet figured out how to turn themselves loose.  Not the way I did with proto-sprog #1.  Seeing a heartbeat made it real to me, I suppose, in a way that felt like it was going to destroy me when that potentiality was taken away.  As I told my doctor, dealing with a chemical pregnancy is easy.  It simply didn’t work, and I can live with that.  It’s a ‘negative’ just as much as if nothing had ever implanted, rather than a miscarriage of a positive.  The difference makes a difference to me.  

Well, the difference, plus the lure of late-night-baked pumpkin pie for breakfast.  (I’m nibbling on a piece right now, while I wait for Nellie to wake up).  Weird racing-heart stuff last night, which I think is the result of the prednisone – have I mentioned how much I dislike taking this drug?  And it was lovely not dealing with Lovenox or PIO.  Not to mention the pessaries.  

So yeah, I’m still feeling good about where I’m at.  I am terrifically grateful to my doctor.  I’m feeling – dare I say it – lucky.  Maybe not lucky to be in this position, but lucky to have ended up with my husband, dealing with our problem at this clinic, even lucky to have ended up in NYC.  If you’re gonna be infertile, you’re in good company in this city.  REs on every corner, and a fertility pharmacy on every other block.  

Going to try a day of not complaining.  See how that works out for me.