Two Days Early

Brother and CSIL visited this last weekend.  They only just left yesterday.  And... it was draining.  I was not at my best.  She's really starting to show now, and she's got a lot of rather noticeable symptoms.  So I feel like I can't hide from her pregnancy at all anymore.  Even if we're not talking about it (which is infrequent), it's just so visibly present that I can't think about anything else when she's nearby.

At one point on the trip, CSIL got so nauseated that we had to pull over so she could throw up in a parking lot.  And as I watched her dab at the mess with napkins as the rest of us scrambled to get ginger ale and saltines and hand sanitizer, I actually felt jealous of her.  Jealous.  I wished so fiercely that I were vomiting in a parking lot, too.  And that made me feel pathetic, you guys.  Just absolutely pathetic.

But it still wasn't as awful as the way I felt when I got my period today.  Two days early.  I didn't even get a chance to hope.

And it hurts, you know?  It just hurts.

Because I wasn't even looking for it yet.  AF never comes early.  Only recently has "on time" even been a thing.  It's like I was waiting for Christmas to open my presents and then someone opened them for me two days early and everyone in the world who got me a present decided that cat figurines was the way to go.  I don't like cat figurines.  What would I do with them?  What about me made people look at me and think, "That woman must love her some tiny statues of fluffy things"?  And not only do I not get to wait for Christmas anymore and not only do I get these terrible gifts instead of gifts I want and not only do I have to try and figure out why no one in my life understands me, but now, even though I never wanted them in the first place, I have a whole freaking collection of cat figurines that I have to display in my house.  So people are going to come over and see my collection and think, "Oh, she must like those."  And then they will buy me more.  Cat figurines will be my whole life.  I will be the crazy cat lady even though I am married and have, like, one cat.  Tops.  Meanwhile, I get to watch everyone else get the presents that I actually wanted and talk about how cool they are and how wonderful life is and how special this whole wonderful holiday season has been and I will have to be happy for them.  Or everyone will think I'm horrible.

Drag it out, will you?

The last couple of days have been really frustrating.  I know I said I got AF two days ago, but what I really got two days ago was gross-o brown gunky stuff that led me to believe that my period was coming imminently because sometimes I get that before my actual period starts.  As in, like, an hour before.  But then I got it for like a day and a half before it just stopped completely, which has never happened.  So I was like "Whaaaat is going on?"  I even tested again (negative, because obviously).  And then I asked Dr. Angry Eyebrows, who was just as unhelpful as ever.  And then I screamed at the skies, "WHY CAN'T MY BODY BE NORMAL!?"

Well today my body said, "YOU WANT A PERIOD!?  FINE.  HERE.  BLOOD FOR DAYS AND CRAMPS SO BAD YOU WILL FEEL LIKE YOU ARE DYING."  Freaking ow, body.  Why are you doing this?  I have an oral argument today!  You can't ever just give me the blood without the pain?  It always has to come with a giant "screw you; I want you to feel how not pregnant you are"?  Uuuugggghhhhh, I hate you so much.

The good news is now that actual AF took her sweet freaking time showing up after her gross and unwelcome entourage, I will be taking my last day of Clomid on freaking Thanksgiving.  Hooraaay!  I'll be sneaking pills in the bathroom like a REAL druggie!  Who here would like to take bets that Crying Clomid causes me to have a meltdown right in the middle of the holiday?  I can see it now.  Someone will ask me to pass the gravy and I will just start sobbing.  And it will be hilarious.  Because, you guys, my family is SUPER NICE.  We've got our problems and whatever, but they are all hidden and unnoticeable.  Like my struggle with infertility.  A good chunk of my family probably still doesn't know about it, or if they do it has been discussed in soft whispers with a lot of compassionate head nodding in the dark of night.  At holidays such things are never discussed.  No one fights.  Everyone is agreeable.  If there is a disagreement at all, it is probably regarding whose pie is better, and both pie-makers will insist that the pie they did not make was far superior than their own.  That's the kind of environment I'm talking about here.  So if in the midst of the smiles and the compliments and the small talk and the copious hugging I start sobbing, one of two things will happen.  Either everyone will be so shocked that they don't know how to cope and will shut down so that the only sound in the room is my wailing, OR every single person in the room and, before long, the adjoining rooms will immediately flock to the trouble and I will be smothered by affection and compassion.  And those closest to the sobbing will give a play-by-play to those on the outskirts so that they do not feel left out.  "Yes, she's still crying.  Apparently there is no baby in her.  Even now.  Oh, when I said the word baby it got much worse.  Now she is sinking to the floor and making squeaking noises.  Do you think she needs water?  Could you get her some?  I'll catch you up on what you miss; don't worry.  Please hurry!  For some reason now she is getting enraged!"

There's just going to be SO MUCH to be thankful for.

Aunt Flo

Aunt Flo came to visit today.  She's the worst.  She is EASILY my least favorite aunt.  And I have an aunt that threw a hissy fit at her son's wedding when he didn't make the day all about her.  So.

Something about actually seeing the blood made me mad.  Just really angry.  It's so not fair.  Everyone in the world is pregnant, CSIL's having twins, and I've been trying for nine months, and I still get nothing.  I've dieted.  Exercised.  Lost 20 pounds.  Researched.  Put up with Dr. Angry Eyebrows.  Had sexytimes even when I didn't feel like having sexytimes and even when I was so busy that I had to work right through the sexytimes.  I've prayed.  I've cried.  Arizona Sister-in-Law ("ASIL") is almost in her third trimester already and we were SUPPOSED to be pregnant together.  What if she freaking gives birth, makes an ENTIRE baby, and I'm still not pregnant?  All of it just hit me and I was furious.

I was also mad because I was out of pads.  I bought some while I was visiting family last weekend but then left them there, as if my pregnant sister-in-law or menopausal mother had any use for them at all.  And I hate driving to the store!  Errands are annoying!

But I went.  And I got my pads.  And while I was there, I figured I should get my Clomid, too.  I waited in line all grumpy and mad that I had to be there at all and I tried not to cry as she handed me my first batch of drugs, making my own body's failure official.  I tried not to bite the head off of the pretty blonde pharmacist who walked me through how to take pills and then asked if I had any questions (You said put them in my mouth and then swallow?  Can I swallow and then put them in my nose, or does that not work?  I'm so confused.)

And on my way out I grabbed a six pack and put it on the conveyor belt because that is my new favorite way to deal with my problems apparently.  The check-out lady asked me how my day was going and I said, "I'm buying alcohol and it isn't even noon yet, so... what do you think?"  She laughed.

AND THEN I WENT CRAZY.  I BOUGHT A LARGE PIZZA.  AND I ATE IT.  AND I DRANK THE ALCOHOL (One bottle.  Calm down.  I didn't have the whole six pack.  And if we're really being honest, I only had two slices of the pizza.).  AND THEN I DUG UP THE COFFEE ICE CREAM THAT'S BEEN IN THE FREEZER FOR THE LAST THREE MONTHS BECAUSE I COULDN'T EAT DAIRY AND HUSBAND DOESN'T LIKE COFFEE AND I ATE THAT, TOO.

Because forget my diet.  It's making me miserable.  And it's not even working.  I lost weight but who even cares if I don't get a baby.  Drugs are my solution now.  I mean, I'll still try to eat healthy and whatever, but I'm not going to get all guilty every time I have something with milk or sugar in it.  That's exhausting.  So... Chapter Two: Can Drugs Save Us All starts now.  Fingers crossed, you guys.