My FET is tomorrow. I’m feeling sort of blah about it.  Hopeful, I guess, but only in a subterranean kind of way.  I’m also feeling bloated, having just completed (I hope) a several-days stretch of eating not very healthily and way too much.  My mother said brightly “It’s okay, you’ll be throwing up soon.”  You go, optimistic Mom.  In advance of any barfing I’m rediscovering fruits and vegetables.

As usual I’m racked with ambivalence about things like caffeine, exercise and bedrest.  The caffeine I will cut back, from “some” to “a little bit” of green tea.  The exercise I will continue, although I’m hesitant to do the higher heart rate activities like interval sprints – not actual running sprints mind you, just intervals on a machine like the elliptical – even though I could use them to lift my spirits.

It always feels so uncomfortable because I’m trying to straddle two different belief systems at the same time.  For example, I wholly believe in acupuncture to improve blood flow to the uterus, it’s documented as improving pregnancy rates.  But my acupuncturist also insists that I lie down in the car on the way home from the transfer (hello, carsick anyone?) and then spend the first day flat on my back and the next two “couch potato.”  This is medically unfounded, sounds really silly, and would make me crazy.

I also think it’s very silly that my RE’s recommendations for the two week wait are far stricter than any pregnancy restrictions I have seen.  No caffeine, no alcohol, no exercise, no heavy lifting, no sex, no aspirin.  I get the alcohol thing and the ibuprofen thing.  But apparently I’m supposed to just sit here, taking the occasional Tylenol, eating leafy green vegetables and thinking leafy green thoughts for two weeks, while pregnant women the world over are competing in the Olympic trials, drinking coffee, having the occasional glass of wine and generally getting on with their lives.  Obviously I’m not dying to drink while pregnant and I already don’t drink coffee.  But I think if I were lucky enough to become pregnant, the regular rules of pregnancy –

not that we really know what THOSE are, since some of us miscarry for no reason and some of us live on rancid lunchmeat with goat cheese and Tab, and deliver healthy babies

– should apply.  My mother tells me all she could eat were Dairy Queen chili dogs.  It just bugs me that an IVF pregnancy seems more fragile than a more unassisted one.  And it probably only does because those of us on the IVF side of things are better acquainted with all that can go wrong.

I do agree with the general guideline that says: don’t do anything I will regret or blame myself for if I should become pregnant and miscarry.  If I go ahead and eat lunchmeat because my sister-in-law says worrying about Listeria is silly, and then I miscarry, I’ll just have grief AND I’ll hate my SIL.  If I skip the lunchmeat and still miscarry, at least I won’t hate myself.

Of course doing everything “right” and still having a loss is no picnic either, in fact it’s its own special hell.

Sigh.  So much for optimism.

I am listening to lots of music.  I find that an hour of Bach piano, specifically “The Well-Tempered Clavier,” puts me into a trancelike state of relaxation.  So that can’t be bad.  (Except in the car).  I have always loved that kind of music, it’s not flashy but it’s like math you can hear.  Calming.

I’m doing better with framing this FET as only my third, since it is only the third from this last batch.  Since I got pregnant on the first of these three, my fresh cycle which ended in ectopic, I have every reason to be hopeful and stop moaning.  The darkest place I go, well, one of them, is the worry that there is something else wrong and that none of these will ever work.

But I’m doing okay with not Going There too much.  It sure helps that it’s spring or at least spring-ish.  I will be on the couch tomorrow, so do stop in and say hello.