Unequivocal *updated*

Thanks, AF, for jerking me around, you stupid cow.

This morning: bbt drops from a steady 97.7 to an unmistakable 97.3. I go to the bathroom and see red. I sit down and start feeling cramps. Six days overdue. Unmistakably here.

I don’t know why I even had hope… I must have read too many fairy tales as a kid. I kept thinking how poetic, how romantic it would be to get knocked up in Bolivia, where T and I met. Going back to a place that holds magic for me in my memory. We walked again through the park where we once kissed until dawn. We walked past the room where he first said “I love you.” And yet, going back there also made me feel so old… in some ways the poignancy of the memories made the intervening years feel all the longer and heavier… the contrast between then and now – then, when I felt inflamed with passion, and now, when when the anxiety for perfect timing turns lovemaking into a high-pressure chore. So that’s the specific loss I am grieving right now: loss of a lovely story. It might seem like it’s not a “real” loss; what could be more ephemeral and unreal than a story? But stories are what life is made of. Or into. Both, I guess.

Anyway, I decided not to call my clinic. This semester I teach on Monday mornings, and I feel like the pressure of trying to do an IUI between 10:30 and 12:00 on a Monday morning would just about kill me. Hopefully I’ll O on or near cd18, which will be a Friday. But really, why should I think that either strategy will work anyway?

*Just had long phone confab with T, who said “if you don’t shoot, you can’t score”: he wants to go for the IUI. So calling the clinic tomorrow. He said he liked Matthew’s post (though I know it stirred some controversy).


9 Responses to “Unequivocal *updated*”

  1. Samantha Says:

    Sweetie, I’m sorry.

  2. LJ Says:

    That just really sucks. I know we have to have hope, but that is what is so crushing in the end. It really sounded so perfect to have gone the way you thought about, and I am so sorry that you had to get robbed of that.

    And then the insult to injury with your schedule this fall, I just have no words.

  3. The Town Criers Says:

    I’m sorry, sweetie. That really sucks. I came over with the drink, but now I’m pulling up a chair and taking a rest with your story. Those cycles are so hard. Because they do hold magic and they feel like they should have a different ending. All cycles are hard to see end, but the ones where you had so much hope built into the details? It’s hard to close the book.

  4. Kristen Says:

    I’m so sorry about AF. She is just a shithead, plain and simple. I hate the witch and I’m boycotting her. It is so wrong to play mind games with you like that. I’m oh so sorry.

    (((HUGS))) This round is on me.

  5. Rachel Says:

    I am sorry! I really hope the IUI works.

  6. Zee Says:

    I’m sorry, Elizabeth. I was feeling so hopeful for you.

    And I know what you mean about this time seeming so perfect. Our last cycle of trying (the suspected chemical pg) was one of those. Had it worked, the baby would have been conceived in VBs country and born in mine. And we had such a great time that trip I still glow when I think about it.

    Here’s hoping that the next try (IUI or whatever you decide) works. It may not have the romantic element of this time, but hells bells, who really cares, right?

  7. niobe Says:

    I’m sorry about the last cycle. It’s hard to have your hopes and plans come to nothing.

    And I’m glad that T convinced you to, uh, take a shot this cycle.

  8. FattyPants Says:

    I’m sorry this cycle was a bust for you. Best of luck going forward with the iui.

  9. andrea_jennine Says:

    I’m so sorry. I hate the loss of those fairy tale dream endings.

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