I am in incredible pain. It's unbelievable actually; one little follicle could cause so much discomfort. I took the max dose of Clomid this round and produced one follie, maybe two and it feels like my abdomen is about to explode....I almost imagine it like a ripe pomegranate (minus the overflow of "seeds" obviously that's the damn problem).
I take solace in the fact that the pain is a good thing. A non to subtle reminder that even if it is only one follie I did produce one and it is happily growing; if the excruciating twinges and stabbing pains are to be believed anyhow.
I picked a fight with my DH this morning. I didn't consciously do it but I know that it had nothing to do with what I was yelling at him about. It's go time; and I'm scared. Soon the trigger will happen, the one shot of timed intercourse and then the waiting. After all the prep work, the shots, the pills, the pain the awkward sex my defunct body is supposed to take over and create life. I don't know that it will do it.
I hate that time period known as the Two Week Wait. For those of you who don't know the TWW is a period of time that was created to torment and foment insanity in any woman trying to conceive for longer than four months. It's that horrible, soul wringing time between ovulation and the dreaded onset of the Witch.
At this point in the cycle there is nothing more I can do but pray and hope. I hate it. I HATE IT! I;m not even there yet and I can't help but get flustered and upset; I begin to doubt and feel that ever present monster that is pessimism and cynicism begin to claw up my back and hook deep into the darkest part of my brain. There it sits and maniacally laughs as its prods and pokes my tender psyche.
I know that if I don't conceive this cycle that I will go into the next round guns blazing, follistim, clomid and HCG. I can't help but feel a little downtrodden and sad however. I'm sick of trying, I'm tired of being disappointed and crying. I'm tired of hurting, I'm tired of looking at my DH and feeling mad or ashamed that I'm not "woman enough" for him.
These thoughts are as ridiculous as they are invasive. My family and friends are much more optimistic at this point and are telling me to follow suite. I'm trying. Maybe getting this out in the blogosphere where my only followers are fellow TTCers will help. Knowing that I'm not alone, I'm not crazy and that it's OK to feel this way.
I battle this insidious monster daily, some days I win, albeit a little bruised and bloodied, others I fall victim to it. Torn and broken. Alone. Scared.
I've been told that vulnerability is what creates intimacy. With family, friends, lovers. I have hard time being vulnerable. I don't like trusting others with my heart. Especially when it is as sore and sad as it is right now. Recently I haven't been able to hide it, my perfectionist persona is cracking; my humanity and insanity breaking through.
I'm scared. It's terrifying to think that I would fail again.
I have put the proverbial pen to paper tonite, I'm letting all of this go. Immortalized for posterity and progeny alike on the blog that no one but me reads.
The ancient Greeks used to go to plays like Antigone and Oedipus Rex as cathartic enterprises. They believed that by watching the most heinous parts of humanity played out onstage they subconsciously lived it and therefore purged themselves of it.
I will not live my life as a Shakespearean tragedy any longer. I will leave the dramatics to the movies and purge myself of the creeper like thoughts that wind themselves around me so silently.
One chance. One egg. One sperm.
Bring it on, I'm ready.