Bloodbath. That’s what it’s been for two days. A bloodbath. I’ve literally taken so much painkillers, I know it’s not good for my body, and they still didn’t totally sedate the pain. I’m glad this happened on a weekend. But glad might be the wrong word.
The things is, even when I’m devastated because I’m not pregnant and the follicle didn’t implantate and we’re not going to have a baby (okay, writing this made me cry), I’m still sort of relieved. I don’t have to worry anymore. I’m not in pain anymore, at least I won’t be after my periods are over. And this is the start fort he next cycle, which has the succes possibility of any other except I have the hormones to boost me.
But when I stop to think about how people just make love and get pregnant. How happy and unaware they are how incredibly lucky they are. I can’t handle the thought. This is not the way this is supposed to go. It’s so wrong and so unfair. I deserve to get pregnant. We deserve to have a child. I don’t deserve to suffer.
Still, we all have our lives and our crosses to bare. I will have strenght, because I need it. Other people might suffer for being alone. Many of my friends are. Some people have to do work they hate or have no work at all. I have the most wonderful husband, who loves me and wants to make me happy. We have our own apartment and I get to do work I love more than anything else in the world. I also have a great therapist. I know I’m already incredibly lucky. One of the few, I think, who also feels lucky and happy most of the time.
Now that my family knows about this, I feel that it’s brought us closer together. My mom and dad and their spouses treat me with caring they didn’t before. I think it’s a wake up call for all of us. They might never get to hold our children. Their sadness helps me. It helps me that they take my pain seriously. No one is trying to cheer me up saying “it’s nothing” or “just relax”.
Tomorrow I take another pill.