Nuchal scheduled for Thursday. It’s been a bitch to get them to give us one and more of a bitch to get them to cover it. We have to drive to St. Louis for it, but they’re some of the best at performing it. It’s more accurate than a quad, less invasive than a CVS or Amnio, but I’ll be 6 months shy of 35 on my due date. Does 6 months really matter at this point? I already know I have crap eggs because of the PCOS. I just want to know my actual risk and not my calculated risk.
I’m a bit better today–something closer to myself. Feeling the blove from all of my internet friends was emensely healing. Thank you.
I’m still down. I’ve been befuddled by people who are self-centered or misguided or uncaring. People I consider close who I’m feeling detatched from. A work situation that makes me weep for an hour at night and an hour in the morning because I don’t want to go the next day. I’ve got a plan for quitting if things don’t improve. It isn’t good for me or for Pinchy. (who is the size of a lime, by the way. Bizarre.)
And I’m dealing with guilt over not being happier about this pregnancy. Wait. That’s not quite right. I’m feeling guilty that the happiness I’m feeling about the pregnancy doesn’t automatically make everything else perfect and wonderful. I still have to deal with me and all the internal stuff that isn’t fixed by magically getting what I want.