Again. Which means, for the second time in a row, I’ve had a 22 day cycle. Last time, I thought it was a fluke, and it pissed me off. Now I’m starting to worry.
Now that Hubby’s crazy conference weekend is over, he called to schedule his next SA, a week from today, and he’ll get blood drawn this Saturday. He told me today he’s “shooting for 1000.” Pun intended. By him, not me.
Hopefully we won’t have to wait too long to get the results. Meanwhile, I’m wondering if there’s something I should do to get these abnormally short cycles checked out. Or if it even matters, since I keep telling myself we’re headed for IVF anyway. Is it possible for a sense of hopelessness and futility to contribute to fucked-up cycles? Any thoughts?
Also, Hubby really needs a job. Still. Nothing in that department has changed.
Geez, I’m a joy to be around tonight. Sorry about that. Maybe tomorrow will be better.