Cone of Uncertainty

I'm going to borrow a term from the risk analysts: "cone of uncertainty."  It perfectly encapsulates everything I've been feeling today since we received the anticipated news. 

Yes, my lining finally reached 7 mm and my estrogen is 1300.  On paper, it's all looking textbook-good.  Instead of leaping off the table and hugging Dr. Hock, I was checking the box off in my head, ready to move onto the next hurdle.  There is always another hurdle.  If IVF has taught me one thing, it is that.  Nothing is for certain and there is always a huge standard deviation. 

So, Miss Stick-in-the-Mud, why no rainbows and butterflies?  Because I know better.  I'm going to keep the excitement at a low simmer until we actually make it to Fortress Ovum on Saturday.  Then I will probably act like an idiot, making pee jokes the entire time just waiting for the transfer to be over so the waiting can begin.  That's how I roll. 

I'm sure it drives some people nuts.  I have to make light of a serious situation because it's the only way I know how to deal with Feelings (with a capital "F.")  I've never been adept at staying neutral so I bury what I'm actually feeling and swing way the other way into what I call my Seven-of-Nine mode, which is basically forced coolness.  (Seven was assimilated by the Borg and slowly reconverted back to her human identity on "Star Trek:Voyager."  She's like a female Spock.)  When I seem cool, calm and collected, it's probably because my inner life resembles a Baz Lurhmann film.  Chaos!  It's a madhouse in there and I'm just a gal trying to keep a lid on it so the crazy don't spill out...

It's not that I don't care, that I'm down on myself or having second thoughts about parenthood.  It's more of a protective cloaking device just in case something doesn't go well and we become an outlier.  I am sick of surprises so better not to get too hopeful too soon.  I don't like disappointing people, least of all myself, and there are so many people I care about who are invested in this process that it would crush me to have to tell them "sorry, no dice."  That sounds stupid but it's true.  When you let people in it's a risk you take and I dislike risks as much as some other people I know...but it's all part of the journey.  That's what we signed on for and where we are now: a calculated risk somewhere in the cone.  Outcome uncertain, course locked in. 

Does it feel real yet?  Not exactly.  Maybe when that 1 inch needle is poking out of my cheek tonight it will feel like something is happening.  I have two Sharpie circles on my gluteus maximus, started my 'roids, my antibiotics, and am continuing my "special delivery" estrogen so I'm ready to go.  Acupuncture is lined up this week, as is a relaxing massage, and my last chance at taking a bath for two weeks will certainly be taken advantage of as we inch closer to the weekend. 

So this was a fairly long post saying a whole lot of not-that-much but that's where my head is at the moment.  Relieved to begin the final leg of this particular cycle, willing it to be The One that takes, getting by on the little sleep we're afforded and staying strong for each other: that calls for some chocolate.  Seriously.