False sense of security

My progesterone level on Tuesday was 43.6 ..up from 16 ..which was down from 30 whatever. So I'm guessing that snorting progesterone like cocaine works. At least it's in my serum. Only god knows if it's making it to my actual uterus.

Work has been so ...overwhelming for the past two weeks. And that, coupled with multiple progesterone supplements daily is making me exhausted. As in ...I really fight falling asleep with patients by 1:30 in the afternoon ...and though I want to blog and read blogs and comment? I'm usually sound asleep by 7:30 p.m. My bff's baby shower is this weekend - 3 hours away - and I really don't know if I'm going to make it because the idea of driving that far and not falling asleep at the wheel seems impossible.

I think that normal numbers are giving me a false sense of security ..and that terrifies me. I know only too well that good numbers, seeing the heartbeat, etc., don't really mean that you get to bring a baby home ...but I'm suddenly thinking of being hugely pregnant, who I want in the delivery room, and actually trying to fight my husband about parenting decisions like circumcision and stuff.
D a n g e r o u s. Cause umm...I'm seven weeks. Which in my world? Is the same as having sex this morning and claiming pregnancy this afternoon.

Ms. April had an absolutely astounding post about "Screaming on the Inside" and letting the world know about infertility that I've been thinking about all week. Because mostly? I'm really, really bad about that. Even in practice, there are very few of my patients that I know are dealing with infertility and/or recurrent pregnancy loss that I've opened up to at all. One mom, in particular, I feel particularly ashamed about. She's in her 40's ..and I don't even remember what she came in for ...but she mentioned how devastated she was that she didn't have the money to go through another IVF cycle. She was in a shared loss program, got pregnant with twins and lost them both at 22 weeks. She thought that she was going to get to do IVF again, but the clinic felt that she'd been "successful". Her version of success involved a live baby or two. I could sense how much she was hurting and still could not bring myself to open up to her. Every single time I come across a woman struggling on their own, I want to give them Stirrup Queen's blog address ..or Lost and Found ...and make them aware of this very supportive community, but I can't. That bums me out. It's not shame - I'm fairly certain of that. I think it's all still too fresh and painful for me to feel like I can get through it in a respectable manner.

But I'll try. In the end, that's all any of can do, right??