Monday, March 11, 2013

struck out, cycle 3, day 25


When I got home from work, I said to C, “if I’m not pregnant, I just want to know now – it’s the uncertainty that I can’t handle.” It turns out, I’m no better with disappointment. Just a couple hours later, the universe heeded my (dubious) call[1]: I got my period.

Because I am the smartest, I think I knew it was coming – the moodiness, the lower back pain that could not alone be attributed to my tendency to type while sitting in bed rather than at a desk, like a proper adult, the absence of searing gas pains… Or not. Seeing as approximately 45 seconds before it happened, I could be found Googling early signs of pregnancy and how early can I take a pregnancy test and how much is a ferry ride to the Channel Islands[2] – because let me tell you, infertility-amnesia (which is something I made up but is totally a thing) is wonderful. (Like I haven’t memorized just how early I can safely take a pregnancy test before a missed period? Pshaw.)

But I still think I knew. So much so that this morning I briefly daydreamed about throwing a surprise party for Aunt Flo. You know, ovary-shaped-piñata[3], cake, kazoos, the whole deal. C and I – and Luna, much to her consternation – would put on party hats and blow out candles and surprise her, beat her[4] at her own game (or something). By the time I realized I was on THE-CRAZY-TRAIN-TO-INSANE-VILLE, I was already buying crepe paper (blue, if you must know, because red would be too obvious).

Which is why I was left so unhinged by the kind of catastrophic emotion that overwhelmed me as I emerged from the throes of hell where hope goes to die bathroom. I was clobbered by it; left completely unprepared in my vow of pessimism. I spent the last few days telling myself on the regular that hope was something for other people, meanwhile I was hanging on to it with abandon.

I feel unmoored and adrift (because apparently I am a boat - and a rock and an island <please excuse me while I break into song>). I digress. 

Anyway. I know where we go next – I know how to put one foot in front of the other and soldier on. I know that really, really, it hasn’t been that long that we’ve been trying, that I respond well to the barrels of hormones charging through my veins, that it’s a long way until we’re out of options, [insert other well meaning bullshit that might work for other people but hrmph]. But I am also ready for this to be over; to feel like myself again, instead of the hormone-addled-though-slightly-bigger-boobed-version-of-me. And also to be holding a baby. Preferably mine.


[1] This could not make less sense here. But tell me it’s not fantastic?
[2] I’m nothing if not a linear thinker.
[3] Surriously. The interwebs do NOT disappoint. Also, I am totally making this.
[4] I just anthropomorphized my menstrual period. There’s no turning back now; you’re trapped.

15 comments:

  1. This kind of gets me right in the gut at a moment when I'm feeling a lot of those things myself. I'm so sorry my friend. Maybe if we connect all our boats together we can at least form a 'festive' flotilla of catastrophic, hormone-crazed emotion. We could use the blue crepe to craft insignia.

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    1. so glad to be aboard your flotilla (well, not glad exactly but). and so grateful that you were willing to take this ridiculous metaphor to it's (il)logical end point. ha. now, let's hoist up this ovarian pinata as a flag of surrender! so sorry you're going through this, too.

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    2. Count me in ladies! I'll bring the tunes...

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  2. Getting one's period is never fun, but in situations like this, it makes you want to obliterate things (perhaps that ovarian pinata, smooshed to smitherines). I know the feeling. My last cycle, I was at a restaurant with two other couples, trying to enjoy myself, but I had back pains and cramps and KNEW it was my period. Went to the bathroom and there she was, and I.was.a.hot.mess. We will persevere, and fight. All of our scenarios and paths will be different, but it will be right for us. It's really hard to believe that (and most of the time I don't), but we have to. There is only so much we can control. Blah blah blah. I'm blabbing. We just want blabbing, blubbering babies. xoxo

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    1. you're right, we do have to believe this, and I think the truth is that we all do believe this, somewhere, at some point, even fleetingly - otherwise we wouldn't put ourselves through such hell, right?
      hope your hiatus is treating you well - I am soon to join you.

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  3. I'm so sorry that bitch Aunt Flo stopped by. While we all claim that we are completely ready for AF to come, it's always a shock. There is always a thought in the back of your mind that this is your month. Sorry lady!!

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  4. Dude, infertility amnesia is so real. The number of times I've Googled "how early can implantation occur" alone is embarrassing. Somehow I think the information is going to change from one month to the next, I guess? Or even though I've read the entire internet as it relates to infertility, I think maybe I've missed something? I'm sorry you're back at square one, lady. (This post was hilarious, though.)

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    1. I am so glad I'm not the only one afflicted with this very real but not often talked about disease (infertility amnesia, that is). Ha.

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  5. Egh. These days are the worst. Try not to worry about attempting to talk down your sadness and disappointment with all of those it-hasn't-really-been-that-long and I-respond-well and we're-not-out-of-options-yet thoughts. Let yourself wallow for however many days you need. Then let those other thoughts creep back in on their own, when you're ready for them.

    I seem to always know my period is coming, too, despite really no symptoms. I just feel it. Probably the hormones shifting. Different ratios of goods coursing through our veins. We are the smartest. Don't cross that shit out!

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    1. thanks for this :)
      we ARE the smartest (and the most infertile, but also the smartest)

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  6. Sorry about the disappointment... it sucks. I know we all feel a pressure due to age and time passing but I have to say that you may want to consider taking a break from treatment before cycleing agin. It has been really helpful for me. It took about 4 months after my last cycle to see the imporvement but I'm finally feeling more whole and less like a raging lunatic. I'm hoping it will make the difference in our next try...

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    1. I totally hear you - and if this next cycle doesn't work, we're going to take a break for April/May. I never would have thought I'd be ready to take a break, but now I totally get it. Fingers crossed you have success on your next cycle!

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  7. Lmao at this blog post! Infertility amnesia is a real thing, I find myself in the same boat. My husband & I have now been TTC for 8 months and yet every month google is my best friend/worst enemy!! Good luck!

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