I've made an effort to try not to bitch too much over the past few days...oh, a little escapes here and there because I am still myself after all, but I've mostly tried to keep the raging, obscenity-laced, whiny, tearful, irrational and almost unrelenting feelings to myself and a few lucky people. I don't get like this very often, I don't like it and I don't want to spread my misery around.
Obviously I am really disappointed with the unsuccessful first IUI. It took a few days I think for me to get over the fact that even though everything happened as it was supposed to and that there are no obvious problems, it just didn't happen this time. I also had to get used to the idea of round two, which started this morning. When you start riding the Fertility Express, all the experts advise not to live your life in thirty-day increments and to keep living your life as normally as possible. Well I tried that, but it is hard not to think about it every single day, when most days involve either peeing into a cup, getting prodded in your baby-hole, taking this pill, taking that pill, taking this shot, etc. Inspecting your underwear, for the love of God.
This morning, for instance, started with the special treat of the Day 3 ultrasound, which is a bloody mess of a good time and fairly painful as well. Again, a new nurse in training was there in attendance with my regular hole-poker and she was teaching her how to read the screen and pointing out where my eggs and whatever were. All while putting intense pressure on my girl region with the large phallic Wand of Invasion; it was a bit much today. It also caused the exam to take a full five minutes longer than most times and five minutes is a long time when you're in pain. I thought about farting on her for spite but then figured I better not. It wouldn't strike her as a revenge thing so much as it would just look like an accident and then I'd have to act embarrassed and who has that kind of energy at 8:00 in the morning? Anyway, starting tonight it's back to the pills and shots and in another week we'll see what kind of follicle action I have going on.
Which just so happens to completely screw any plans I had for going to Florida. Even postponing it for a week wouldn't really work, as Brian's truck is going to need tons more money thrown at it before it will run again. Tons. And as anxious as I was to get away for a little while and go be with people I love, I can't come close to justifying it. "Okay Honey, you stay here and deal with all this shit by yourself while I go traipsing off on vacation. See you next week!" That's not me; I guess I don't qualify to be a Real Housewife of Whatever County, because I'm quite sure any of them would have no problem with it. That's the problem with having a conscience. And a soul. And not starring on a Bravo reality show.
So yeah, I was feeling pretty poopy thinking about all this on my way back into work this morning. Then I sat down to the computer to read a few blogs while drinking some coffee (YES, I AM DRINKING COFFEE RIGHT NOW; DOES ANYONE HAVE A PROBLEM WITH THAT???) and got a shock. A blogger I've read for awhile and really enjoy, well, her husband passed away last night from heart failure. Right around the time me and the dog were taking our nice nightly walk. It was almost a screeching tire sound effect that happened in my brain as soon as I read that. My heart broke for her. And I felt like a complete and total schmuck. THESE are the problems I'm bitching about? Not getting pregnant on the first try, postponing a vacation and car trouble? What the hell is wrong with me. Yesterday when I was at a low point, I called Brian and burst into ugly, hiccuping, hysterical tears. He does what he always does and helped me to get a grip and even made me laugh before we got off the phone. That? Is everything to me. I'm so lucky for that. I'm done complaining. I'm sure it won't last forever, but that was a little wake-up call right there.
For that lady's husband, for my Dad who passed away seven years ago Sunday and for my friend Lisa who has been gone one year this coming Sunday:
"and, when he shall die...
take him and cut him out in little stars and he will make the face of heaven so fine that all the world will be in love with night" - William Shakespeare
"Turn around and say good morning to the night/For unless they see the sky/But they can't and that is why/They know not if it's dark outside or light" - Elton John