Even optimists like myself have bad days. Yesterday was one of those days. I’ve been trying to keep myself busy and thus, distracted, but I’ve been having one of those moments. You know, the kind where you start asking yourself all the questions? Why me? Is it ever going to be our turn? Sure, we got pregnant but it didn’t work — are all of our embryos rotten? What the eff is wrong? Is everything going to turn out okay? What if this doesn’t work? How much more do I have left in me? Will I be pregnant on my birthday or will I be depressed?
Frankly I’m tired of giving my life over to trying to conceive. It’s been 2 years and 4 months already. I miss me. I miss life the way it used to be, but at the same time I’m not ready to give up. I’m just sick of it. Can someone just please put me in a coma and wake me up when I’m pregnant?
Siiiiiiigh! I’m still bleeding, but it’s starting to taper off. I’ve never bled for a week straight before. Maybe when the bleeding stops I can turn over a new leaf and focus on the positive again. I think maybe this “moment” has something to do with the break month. Sure, I’m hoping mother nature works her magic and we knock ourselves up but there’s something frightening about sitting back and letting nature take it’s course. It’s almost as if I’m addicted to ART or something. A month without meds and dates with the dildocam makes me want to scream!