What is there to say? Not much apparently. The 10 days of birth control agony have come to an uneventful close and my early morning wake up calls, general bitchiness and intermittent nausea/monstrous hunger have subsided. I got my period as expected (I really feel like I should get a present or some sort of decadent cookie for bleeding twice in 15 days but whatever).
So. Here we are. Round three. Third time’s the
time for a second
miscarriage and complete emotional meltdown charm! Fertility hat trick.
Fallopian triple threat – (singing, dancing and conceiving, ahem). Etc.
But if there isn’t much to say, why
do I always have so much to say do I feel like an infertility underachiever? I’m not
charting, I’m not taking my temperature, I’m not finding a cycle buddy (can we
go for bike rides? I’m so confused), I’m not going to an
acupuncturist/yoga-ist/spiritual-ist of any kind. I’m not even carefully
evaluating my *cringe* cervical mucus.
(And, honestly, if I’m not doing that, can I really be trusted with a child?).
That I haven’t spent this week elbows deep in interweb infertility obsession is probably
good sign for my next trial because umm, hello, full time employment you are
really getting in the way of my blog habit healthy. But because I’m a glutton for punishment, I can’t help but
question whether there isn’t more I should be doing. I guess as I approach the one year mark <head
spinning>, there’s a kind of creeping panic curiosity about what else
is out there and what else might help me both get – and for the love of god – stay pregnant. It’s not that I
necessarily have deep thoughts on the matter – and even if I did, there’s a
mountain of inertia that might make any movement on these thoughts prohibitive.
But, in the middle of a tense court hearing moments of daydream, some
not-so-deep thoughts are bouncing around in my thick head: should I be eating differently?
Should I be exercising differently? Should I be getting teeny tiny needles
stuck in my ears? Should I chill-the-fuck-out-already-and-not-venture-down-this-slippery-slope-of-crazy?
Ahem. Thoughts from the group?
 I thought about ending the post right here. But then I realized you’d have to go back to “working” or “caring for your children” or “watching The Bachelor” and because my intention is nothing if not to enable your procrastination, I proceed.
 Not like C reads this – he’s too overwhelmed by my superior humor – but if he did he might correct me. So let me set the record straight: he did get me a luxurious box of very fancy had-to-order-them-in-the-mail-from-new-york! sea salt caramels which are probably even “artisanal” and “made from the fresh milk of organically-raised-free-range-phD-educated-remarkably-happy-cows.” But that, my friends, was for Valentine’s Day.