I know that sounds ridiculous, I mean it actually sounds like it doesn’t mean anything at all, but it’s another of those things that I’m trying to live by in a bid not to drive myself mad during these two weeks. Because otherwise you’d go loopy.
Otherwise, you, might, for example, when you’ve got five minutes before you need to leave the house and you still haven’t done your makeup, find yourself at your computer googling “3dp3dt spotting” and hating yourself for a) being totally neurotic, b) using those stupid fucking acronyms that you hate — 3dp3dt = 3 days post 3 day transfer = three days after an embryo transfer when the eggs had been fertilised three days before, c) ending up on those witless infantilising fertility forums that I set this blog up to be the antithesis of.
I give that as an example because — obviously — that’s exactly what happened to me. And, oh the shame, I’ve googled other symptoms too, and obsessively read other women’s blogs, and I’ve come to the conclusion that unless you’ve actually got your period — and sometimes even then — there is nothing that will conclusively tell you whether or not this is working. So you might as well wait until the blood test. Nothing. Means. Anything.
Bleeding/not bleeding, cramps/no cramps, tiredness/no tiredness, sickness/no sickness, hunger/no hunger — none of these things are going to tell me any quicker than the blood test whether this one has worked or not. None of them. And so, fuck me, who’d have thought they’d ever see the day, but I appear to be practising some form of mindfulness, where I observe symptoms, or the absence thereof, and don’t conclude anything from them at all.
I’m not saying it’s easy. I’m not saying I’m not, every day, often several times a day, giving the embryo they put inside a bit of a mental talking to along the lines of “no pressure, but I’d really like it if you could get comfy in there and do your do”. Knowing that just like the pineapple/Brazil nuts/boiled eggs, it won’t make a bit of difference, but I’m trying.
And I guess it struck me, after talking to another friend who is about to embark upon IVF who was saying that hearing about celebrity pregnancies depressed her, that actually “Nothing means anything” is a pretty good way to view all this stuff.
Because that woman from that other blog you follow who just got pregnant has no bearing on whether you will or won’t, it doesn’t mean anything; the fact that some celebrity is pregnant doesn’t meant anything — except fucking hell let’s celebrate medical science because if someone so thin they look to have a BMI in single figures can get pregnant, and with twins FFS, that is a truly staggering thing; but basically nothing means anything.