Negative, of course

The pregnancy test was negative, of course.    We went by the drugstore on the way home yesterday, and James surreptitiously put the bag containing the test in the cabinet in the downstairs bathroom.  He was so sneaky so Dad wouldn't see it and know something was up.  So sneaky that his wife didn't know where her pregnancy test was and had to ask publicly where "the bag" was, perhaps eliciting more questions, confusion, and attention than I would have had if we just kept the drugstore bag on the dining room table.  Then, since James had put the test in the downstairs bathroom, which is VERY close to the kitchen and dining room, where Dad and James were talking, I felt it was a very public 2 minutes.  Of course the pregnancy test was negative.  I'm not convinced that those things even have the capacity to say "positive."  I emerged from the bathroom into the kitchen and met James's eyes.  He raised his eyebrows in question; I shook my head and went to get the silverware to set the table.  So the saga begins.    I am a little fuzzy on what I'm supposed to do now, since I'm an ART veteran, but new to this clinic.  I talked to my nurse today, who called in a prescription for my meds to my neighborhood pharmacy.  That's a change from the mail-order meds.  Laura, the nurse, will call tomorrow to tell me when I'll be starting Lupron.  I start the birth control pills on Saturday, which is Day 3.  (I have revised history to make this Day 1, since I just wasn't ready for it yesterday).    After my period ends, but before 17 days from now, I need to schedule a mock embryo-transfer.  I wonder if this will be paid a la carte.  At our last clinic, the mock ET wasn't included in the IVF payment package.  Even though it was required.  I called the new clinic this afternoon at 4:17 p.m. to schedule that, but of course they had closed.  Why would they stay open past 4:00 p.m.?  Who works such long hours?  I also put in a call to the financial guy, asking for an appointment to come in and pay.  It seems like they would want us to do that at some point.  I also missed him, and I know he doesn't work on Fridays, so I won't talk to him tomorrow either.  Apparently (a parent ly) Friday is his day to take care of his kids.  He says that's the harder of his two jobs.  It seemed like the part about his kids just popped out and he regretted saying anything; I guess they discourage talking about family and children at that clinic.  I like that.  And I also like that he works a 4-day week to take his kids for three days a week.  James and I have plans to go get bloodwork done this Saturday.  We had all of our pre-screening tests done already except one: syphillis!  Okay.  Pretty sure we don't have that, but okay.  I like ticking things off lists.  And I like taking tests where the results will be confirmations of good news.    There is an IVF orientation class, but I don't know if we have to take it, since we've done IVF before.  They say if you absolutely CANNOT attend the class, you can watch a 30-minute version online.  Maybe we can do that as a compromise.   I know we are allowed to skip the injection training.   The only other thing we need to do is get ourselves in front of a notary to sign our various consent forms.  Why is this so hard?  I think we need a DC notary, though we live in Virginia, and know where to get a notary in Virginia. This will require some work.  I am reminded of something my high school history teacher told us about veterans in World War II and Vietnam.  In World War II, the soldiers returned from war aboard big boats that took their time getting home, crossing the ocean.  They had time to process their thoughts and make a transition in their mind from war to peace, foreign lands to home.  After serving in Vietnam, soldiers came back home in airplanes, and their travel took a day at most.  They didn't have a transitional period to catch their breath and make a mental separation between their vastly different realities.  As a result, the veterans of WWII had a much easier time assimilating back into civilian life than the Vietnam vets did.  (I'm sure there are other differences, but infertility support group journals don't have to be that comprehensive in their historical analyses).  Waiting for periods and weeks and cycles and jumping through paperwork hoops and voicemail messages maybe therapeutic.  Maybe.  It moves you from powerlessness and despair to embryo transfer over a looooonnnnggg period of time, during which you can learn and talk and make decisions and come to conclusions.  So yea.  But oh, this is a slow boat.  Slower than two Christmasses.  ____________________Incidentally, this morning I told James that in yesterday's journal entry I made my "pimples and sticky panties" the protagonist in the IVF drama.  He agreed that we dedicate an inordinate amount of time to my pimples and sticky panties.  I feel so loved.