Skipping this cycle has put us in a twilight zone wherein there is no need for anxious observation of breasts and diet. Nobody's watching the clock. I kind of hate it.
I can't remember what's next: Are we waiting for Heather's period? Ovulation? Where are we? And I can't get my bearings when it comes to what I should be doing in the meanwhile. Is it still quiet time or are we supposed to be looking for a new donor? I'm disoriented by the lack of structure. I've never struggled for occupation during days off-- when it doubt, take a nap-- but I feel the way workaholics say they do. As Mary Stuart Masterson says in the unrelentingly hokey Bed of Roses, "I haven't contributed to the GDP today." Well, I haven't contributed to our baby-making in weeks, and I feel like something's missing.
Heather has indeed decided to change donors, saying that our current, madly-attractive guy hasn't come through (Come? Get it?) in the past two cycles and we've got to find someone else with previous pregnancies on record. My suspicion is that it's not sperm that's causing problems, but more likely insemination timing or Heather's indifference to tapping the obscene statue's crotch. Sperm banks are ridiculous with their tests and it seems unlikely that these guys are shooting blanks. Of course, I found via the Cryolab's shameful Twitter feed that they're looking for healthy men between 18 and 39, and I can't help thinking requirements should be a wee bit more stringent. But I said a while back that I didn't care who the donor was, right?
Heather and I gave our first, much-beloved donor four tries, and she's granted the sexy one two tries. We've never been as invested in a donor as we were in the Persian guy, so I suppose changing up isn't traumatic, but if we're not going to feel connected, I'd rather feel ambivalent about somebody really good-looking than smart. Still, bribing someone to take the SAT for your kid is probably more dangerous than ponying up for plastic surgery. Hard to choose. Mostly I think Heather is being ridiculous.