This might be my depression talking

So, 18 dpo, here I am at another cd1. It’s incontrovertible this time. (Thanks for the help in figuring it out!!!) My bbt was 97.3 this morning (my coverline is at 97.6); I stuck in another tampon and sat down to work on final papers. I could feel the cramping and familiar sensations of cd1. Twice between paragraphs I just started crying. I can’t actually find words to describe this peculiar pain, but you all know what I mean, unfortunately. I’m sad that this is how we found each other, because of our common pain, but I am also grateful for the forum.

I think part of the pain this time around is knowing that in 2 weeks I’m going to be spending mother’s day with my mom and grandmother, and it had crossed my mind how sweet it would be to tell my mom about a pregnancy. I know she has been praying for this for me for years. Yet some of the reasons I postponed parenting had to do with her; we have a pretty good relationship, but when I look at how she and my sister have been hurting one another for years and years it really makes me think twice. Sometimes I look at pictures of women holding little babies, and I imagine the adult looking at that picture of his/her own infancy, and thinking back to the sweetness and innocence and love of that moment, and contemplating the intervening years of pain and sorrow, resentments, conflicts, rifts and ruptures. We who work so hard to become parents, we have to hope and dream of the positive possibilities, but for some reason I sometimes find myself thinking about the possibilities for sorrow.

The year before I started ttc, my in-laws also found themselves in a profoundly painful conflict with T’s sister. I’ve really tried to stay out of it, but it also informed my decision at the time to postpone parenting. Part of the appeal of babies is their innocence, how unmarked they are by the sorrows of this world, but nothing can keep them in that state.

Last night I went out with some girlfriends to see “The Last King of Scotland.” Amazing movie, quite well done of course, but so hard to watch at times because of the intense violence. Knowing that it was based on real events made it all the harder to watch. I kept telling myself “it’s not real, it’s not reall,” but I knew that even though the images I was seeing were artifice, that these things have really happened to real human beings, and still do. Human beings that were babies once upon a time. So why do I want to become a parent? And why does my inability to do so hurt so much?

Hide & Seek

Who knew Auntie Flo had such a sense of whimsy? Tsk tsk, the old dear. Yesterday when her wee brown dog, Spot, showed up, that icky damp feeling was too distracting, so I put in a tampon. When I took it out in the evening, I saw red in the brown. But today? Nada. Where is she?

More importantly, do I count yesterday as cd1, or do I hang out and wait for an actual flow to manifest? Maybe it doesn’t really matter, since this cycle is a DIY anyway. I’m not even taking OPKs to Peru. What with the high altitude travel and all, I don’t really want to have to think about it.

I was super, super cranky this morning until I actually started writing (at around noon!). As I became immersed in my work I suddenly realized that I was having fun. Awesome.

Maybe God doesn’t want me to have children

Dealing with more stupid freaking university bureaucratic red tape and silliness – I won’t bother you with the details, but I pretty much hit the ceiling tonight over it, had a big fight with T who I felt like was bossing me around about how to handle my committee, lost my cool over losing internet connection, then walked all over campus in the rain at midnight trying to find an open computer lab or library (as a first year, I don’t have an office on campus). No joy in mudville. Came home and connectivity was back for some reason. How did I get so dependent on the internet???

The real reason I’m so cranky tonight (other than being really tired) is stupid freaking cd1, all over again. I’m just so tired of it all. Hopefully things will look better in the morning but man, April was one hell of a roller coaster this year.

What’s going on?

Trying to keep perspective, big picture, etc. etc. 16 dpo spotting. Brown. BBT ambiguous b/c taken an hour earlier than usual, after only about 4 hours of sleep, and right on the coverline. Fell asleep again, 2 hours later took temp again, well over coverline.

But I finished my second paper at 2 a.m. last night and it’s damn good if I do say so myself.

As an “older” grad student (this is a second career kind of thing), I often find myself quite bemused by the lack of maturity and professionalism evidenced in some of the young’uns. There is an incredible tempest-in-a-teapot going on right now, because a person in a leadership position for the student association for our department sent out a bitter, finger-wagging e-mail and cc-ed faculty, basically chewing everybody out for poor attendance at student-sponsored events this year. I understand that s/he felt embarrased by the lack of participation, and probably took it really personally, but the way s/he chose to express this was childish to the extreme and has everybody up in arms. I’m tangentially involved, since I’m actually interested in filling this same position next year (motivated in part by knowing I could do a hell of a better job) so am trying to be as diplomatic as possible. Fortunately, my professional training in the non-profit world is serving me quite, quite well. Of course, a lot of learning came from a couple serious mis-steps when I was younger, so perhaps I am inclined to show this person a little more grace than some others are.

Uh-oh – feeling a little crampy in the lower back there. Not a good sign. Even though the Magic 8 Ball said I wouldn’t get my period this week or next week. I asked it this morning: “Are you a liar?” Answer: “Absolutely!”

Briefly

Hey, thanks people for your comments re my friend and the email etc. etc. I did hear from her a couple days ago, she’s doing ok and wants to hang out this summer. 🙂

Temp still at 97.7, work is getting done, and one week from tomorrow I’m going to Peru!!! Yay!

Might as well face it, I’m addicted to blogging

…but I did make some decent headway on one of my end of term papers, and it was really fun actually.

I was going to title this post “asymptomatic” since I have had no breast soreness at all this cycle, as opposed to the previous two. But I’m starting to get that too-tight-bra feeling…
Think I’m going to go for a walk since it’s nice out and I’ve been chained to my laptop all day.

Did I mention that “B” is 27? (What, me? Brooding? Ha!)

Hm…

So, I may have really screwed up regarding the friend who told me about her m/c recently. Since I’m in another state, but I was feeling really bad about it, I wanted to send her something – a card? What? I went to the campus bookstore and bought a little teddy bear that said “someone at CU loves you” on it’s t-shirt. Or at least, that’s what I meant to do. I actually bought one that just said CU on it. And I had a really hard time picking out a card. I got one with subdued flowers on it, blank inside. Then I needed a bag for the bear. The only gift bags they had were super-duper festive, so I picked the most subdued looking one, put it all together with a note in the card, and sent it to her with my husband last weekend. He says he delivered it on Wednesday. The next day I got a mass e-mail from her with a new e-mail address, so I quick wrote her a note saying something like, “T says he delivered the thing I sent you last night, I hope it wasn’t too cheesy or festive, I just wanted to let you know I am thinking about you and am really sorry for your recent loss. Love, E.”

Did I do right? Did I fuck it up? I feel like such a prat. I’ve read tons of blog assvice about how to respond when a friend experiences pg loss, but I can’t understand what it really feels like from the inside.

I’d say she and I are pretty good friends, we used to work together back in the day, but since she had her fist kid we pretty much stopped hanging out. Not so much because of my infertility (after all, she was my first friend to struggle with IF herself, so I know she’s been there) but b/c of the change in their lifestyle. Nonetheless, she’s really been there for me a couple times when I was going through hard times. Maybe we’ll hang out some this summer. Anyway, I don’t want to bug her with annoying “didja get my message? didja? didja?” but I am worried that I may have goofed with the gift and am not sure how to find out whether or not an apology is in order. I feel shy about phoning and putting her on the spot. Maybe I’ll give it a week or two and then phone. Hm….

In other non-news, I’ve decided I will not POAS as day 28 draws near. I’ll just keep monitoring my temperature. The IUI instructions said at the end that if using progesterone a false positive is possible on a HPT, and wouldn’t THAT suck.

I’ve been eating like all the food in the world might disappear tomorrow and I feel fat.

Waiting (in my Comfort Zone)

This is my comfort sock, and it’s for me. Other comforting things in the picture: bed, laptop, books, framed photo from Tara. Only thing missing: chocolate!

I was thinking today about why it is so hard when people get pg easily before we do. I think one aspect of it is the feeling that it’s not fair, because we’ve been waiting so long and working so hard at it. When we’re little and we want something really bad, like a toy that the other kids are playing with, we’re told “Wait your turn. When it’s your turn, you can play with it. Right now it’s not your turn.” So we learn to delay gratification, to wait, while others take their turn. But then, (assuming caregivers were somewhat with-it), finally, it’s my turn, and I get to play with the desired object, and life is good, and everything feels right and just.

Only with IF, it turns out that it’s not fair, or right, or just. There is no “line,” except in our minds, and there is nobody monitoring to make sure everybody gets their turn, much less in order. Or in a timely fashion. Or…perhaps…ever… and that’s a terrifying thought.

I think that idea of fairness and turn-taking is part of what makes this so difficult. Of course there’s also that incredibly visceral level of desire, that sometimes feels all-consuming. And I think this also contributes to why people can feel guilty when they finally get their turn. They know it’s all crazy luck (and science, and persistence, and money – but a strong element of chance cannot be denied); so why me all of a sudden, and not someone who has been trying longer, or has done more IUIs, IVFs, FETs, etc? Why?

The only question more torturous than “why?” is, of course, “when?”

When will it be my turn?

Wimp (*edited to add clarification*)

I feel so utterly pathetic. This afternoon between classes I decided to go to the walk-in counseling service on campus; I wanted help figuring out how to get through class (*where I sit across from the newly pg classmate – see previous post*). But while I was sitting in the waiting area, I heard someone in a nearby office say, “Wow, that baby is getting so big!” And I just lost it again. Waterworks in the waiting area.

The counselor asked me what I would do if I didn’t go to class, and I said my instinct was to just crawl into bed and hibernate. She asked me what the consequences would be if I missed class and I said “nothing,” because really, I did the reading, I wrote up my analysis/response, and I can always borrow someone’s notes. I can make up an excuse for the professor.

I called T, he’s being really supportive. It just sucks he’s not here in the flesh.

I still feel like I should be strong enough to have gone to class today. I feel like my ego’s been crushed.

*Later: I did indeed go home and crawl into bed with my laptop for some therapeutic blogging, lurking, and mindless surfing. Later my friend C. invited me over for American Idol and grilled cheese sandwiches with tomato soup. Can you say “comfort food”? Thanks also, Tara, for the phone call and e-mails. I feel loved! 🙂

Out of Left Field

Devastated.

Stunned.

I think that about sums up how I feel right now. I just found out that someone in my cohort is pregnant. She told me about 5 minutes before class this morning, where we were to do a presentation together. I think I performed happy surprise and congratulations very well, in fact, I think I deserve a freaking Oscar. (Someone should design a sidebar button for this!) I learned that she is about 6 weeks along, has known for about 10 days, and is just now starting to feel symptoms. “It’s not fun,” she said ruefully. Wow… I didn’t say any of the things I wanted to, I just said “It will be worth it in the end, right?” Totally dumb-ass thing to say. What was I thinking?

Dammit, I should get a prize for holding it together in class, I mean absolutely and completely normal, like nothing different was going on. The presentation went really well.

But inside, I just felt rage, and hate, and despair.

Her boyfriend lives in DC. They met online. They’ve been a couple since January, I think. He’s planning to move here.

I can hardly bear this.

So then I was walking home, actually feeling ok about it all, even happy, somehow, thinking “Well, this should increase my chances at getting that fellowship she and I both applied for.” (Like that makes any sense, right? Like the universe “owes” me now.) On Tuesday, she and another of our cohort had gotten rejection letters with honorable mention, but my letter hadn’t come yet (I tell you, the 2ww analogies – very similar feeling). So then I got home and listened to phone messages. Second message was from T. in VA, saying the letter from the foundation had gone there, instead of here, and it’s what one of our friends calls the P.F.O. (Please Fuck Off). Not even an honorable mention.

That’s when I collapsed into tears.

I have another class with her, this evening, and I don’t know how I’m going to make it through. What is the fucking point of it all? Why am I even here???? I literally want to kill her. I want to crawl into a hole and die. I had no idea I was this vulnerable.