Okay, so it’s that time of the month again. And if I never write a post about anything else ever again, that’s my prerogative. But I am sorry about this.
I feel rotten. (This is going to be very descriptive, so if you might be icked by it, I suggest YOU READ IT AND WEEP, my friends. Why should I have to suffer alone?)
Not only is my period just some spots in the toilet paper, have been for three days now, I don’t know, when I’m supposed to take the damn hormones. This would all be so much easier, if my cycle was all clear and always the same. But that’s the problem we’re trying to fix, right? So, why does it play such a huge part here that I should recognise its beginning?
I’m supposed to start the hormones on the third day of the cycle. Saturday was the day of the first cramps, but only some spots of blood. It was the 28th day of the cycle and since the doctors believe menstruation always follows after 14 days of ovulating (I beg to differ), it should’ve been the first day of cycle VOL II as I so fondly call it. The second hormonally boosted cycle. I have great hopes for cycle two. I do. That’s exactly the reason I’m freaking out. This is too much pressure. Why does it reside in my shoulders only?
Sniffles. Martyrdom. Sniffles.
But… Still no mind numbing cramps. Still no flows of blood. I feel dry. My tits still hurt like before. Last time I started taking the hormones this day of the cycle even though I wasn’t sure. Now I called the hospital and someone might get back to me on this, because the call time had already ended. But please call back tomorrow! But what if I should take the pill today, huh? How is it going to help finding it out tomorrow. It doesn’t help either that the actual appointed call time is only half an hour in the morning. Who gets through then? So, good luck with that fertility treatment thing you decided to start. Sounds good.
This fertility treatment thing hasn’t actually put more pressure on our relationship, yet. I’ve heard that many couples even stop in the middle of treatmenst because it’s too hard. This is still fairly easy. It’s only five days of total soul ripping depression because of the hormones and then everything’s allright again. And then we have hope! I feel the follicle just riping in my ovary, it prickles, and I know that that’s supposed to happen. I feel happy, content and I want a lot of sex.
I feel more close to Wonderboy, not only during ovulation, but all the time. I feel he gives me a lot more affection, we laugh a lot more, we talk and listen a lot more. The sex… Well. There might have been some decrease in the sex front, but I have to say that i think we’re doing exceptionally well with that. We fuck happily and quite kinkily near ovulation, so it evens out the score. Five times a row while ovulating, only once a weekend while not is tolerable I think. And I do love him. It hurts to know that this is his fault, at least to some degree, and that he can’t do much about it. I love him even more because of that.
But then comes the waiting. The nothing happening. Again. And again.
This was by no means made easier for me when my good friend whom I visited in the summer came to see me and told me she’s pregnant. They started trying in the summer, she had a mini miscarriage like me (sounds cute, doesn’t it?) and now she’s 7 weeks in. In the summer she said she’s sure it will take a lot of time. That it’s not for granted. And poof! Pregnant.
Well, she’s experiencing some beelind and is really worried about miscarrying. I could help her with that fear. I could support her, because I know only too well how that feels like. How nobody can give you support. But… If it all goes well?
I am not angry or really even jealous (well maybe a little bit). It’s not our baby she’s having. But every time someone else gets pregnant, I feel like I’m less and less capable of getting pregnant. I feel like it’s slipping further and further. I don’t feel, like I’ve heard some do, that why did they get pregnant instead of me or anything. I just feel more alone. More isolated. More broken. Because if everybody else succeeds, what does it tell about us that we don’t?
It obviously only tells us the things we already know. We have fertility challenges.
The other thing I’ve noticed about these treatments, and I don’t know if it’s the hormones or just my way of coping, but I’ve started to forget things a lot. I forget to answer to emails. I just don’t have the strenght to answer them and I don’t feel bad about it. I’ve had some work related calls confirming things I just didn’t answer to. I’ve always been very reliable. I never do stuff like this.
I think I’m protecting myself. I probably need to not think about the pressure all the time. I think I can hope and be happy just by not being as reliable as I was. Not taking responsibility for as much anymore.
But it feels strange.
I had the blues, but I didn’t want to face it on friday night, so at first I didn’t tell Wonderboy. Wonderboy lectured to me about it later, when he found out that my period had started. (Some blood spots and cramps were enough for me.)
It’s important that I know these things too. It’s not just your thing. I need to know, he said.
I felt so relieved by his words. I felt that he’d taken a huge step from it being my business, my hospital visit, my ultrasound, my malfunctioning ovaries, my period, my want and need to it being our thing. Yeah, it’s my body and I’m the only one who can tell what’s going on. I had told him a week earlier that I felt pre-menstrual cramps, so I wasn’t pregnant. But I still hoped. And I think now that maybe he did too.
We can do nothing about his part, the sperm, except live a healthy life, but we did that already. That’s why I think my part gets blown out of proportions. Because I have to compensate, for both of our sakes.
I wish I would get pregnant.
And somehow. I’m oddly happy I’m not. Maybe that’s part of the survival tactics too?