Funny how a few months ago recovery meant an easy training week. Now recovery means something very different.

The D&C was what it was. The nurses remembered me from the moment I walked in. The drug doc upon looking at my chart said, "Oh wow that's not good. I'm so sorry you're here again." My surgical nurse said she was sorry I was here again too. The recovery nurse remembered that I take zofran for nausea. I almost jokingly said I'd see them in 3-4 months, when I left.

I didn't get to see my Dr. before they wheeled me down, which is weird. She must have been running late. I almost went into the wrong operating room. I tried to go into the one I was in last time (you have to walk from the gurney into the room). It's not like I would have gone far, the nurse was holding my IV bag. I didn't have my glasses on and I was pretty out of it. They however didn't put me completely under until Dr.H was there. The surgical nurse kept saying, "Not yet she hasn't seen her Dr." Which I really appreciated. Granted I saw Dr.H for about 3 seconds before I went out, but for some reason it made me feel better. I also apparently talked to her as I was coming to. She told Chris, " it was a huge nasty blood clot full of black dark blood. It would have taken her a long time to pass it." I guess when an RE says something is nasty it must have been pretty gross. There wasn't anything for genetic testing.

I had some cramping when I came too, but nothing that required morphine. Just percacet. I drank about 4 glasses of grape juice. Then almost 1.5 hours later, I finally had to go to the bathroom. They don't let you go home until you go to the bathroom. The nurse goes with you and checks. The most disturbing thing was she wouldn't let me wash my hands. WTF?

I did get another pair of socks. I should make a t-shirt that says, "I got knocked-up and all I got was some non-skid socks". Or maybe "IUI=Socks".

All joking aside. We are devastated. This one was supposed to work. Seriously it was supposed to work. It was the third one. I needed it to work, for more reasons than I feel like going into. I'm normally a pretty pessimistic person. I don't like to sugar coat things. This situation really sucks. I don't even know how to begin climbing out of the big dark whole that infertility and repeat pregnancy loss has dug in my life. I'm not sure I'll ever completely recover from any of this. I guess 20 years from now I can look back on all this be proud that I survived. I would prefer for the reminiscing to take place while dropping our first child off at college. That might require a perfect world, which I sure as hell will never be part of.