It's been a month since the last ultrasound. I'm hoping, really hoping, that the cyst is gone, and we can start treatment. If not, I'm ready to throw in the towel and just call it finished. Dad and I have thought, "Wouldn't it be kind of cool if we just got pregnant on our own when we're not going through treatment?" But so far, that hasn't worked.
Lately, Dad and I have been thinking that maybe Emma will be our only child, and if so, we should just enjoy our time with her. I went another step further thinking that it would be terrible if I have any regrets later about not having done enough with her. Perhaps because of these thoughts, both Dad and I have been more lenient with Emma about her sleeping habits and a few other things. We justify that she may be our only opportunity to cuddle with a kid, or to spoil, or just to enjoy before she decides we're not cool to be around.
Today's news was not particularly encouraging. The cyst was a bit deflated, but still very much there. Because my cycles have not been very regular or predictable for the past several months, I had half a mind to ask if I was already pregnant, but by the apologetic look and tone of Dr. Johnson's voice, I figured that wasn't necessary. I had blood drawn and then left, with the understanding I would call back when a new cycle started.
