It is almost 7 pm as I’m writing this, and I’m writing it in bed. I’m exhausted. I’m done for the day. As soon as I hit publish I’m going to give in to my eyelids that feel heavier every moment.
Today is cycle day 34 for me. That’s right, 34. My body isn’t cooperating, again. One more day, one last chance for my body to start a period independently, before I have to start taking good old Provera to induce a period. Again.
I’m just so tired.
I mean that every way it can be interpreted. I’m tired physically from a very long, very busy day. I’m tired emotionally from the constant worry about Eva and the never-ending disappointment experienced with infertility, secondary or otherwise. I’m tired of being tired!
I didn’t need to pee on a stick to know I’m not pregnant, but I did it anyway. Of course, it was a negative. I didn’t even cry this time. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I’m not pregnant. The only reason I wasted the pregnancy test is because I know that my OB/GYN will insist I take a test before she sends the script over for the Provera. I appreciate her cautious approach, but I’m tired of feeling like my lack of a positive pregnancy test is getting rubbed in my face.
I’m being dramatic I’m sure, but that’s still how I feel. I was in Wal-Mart Monday morning to pick up some items for work. It was 7:45 in the morning, and it was like a ghost town. I only saw employees throughout the store as I was shopping. There was only a couple registers open so I picked the closest without paying attention. There was a woman in line paying for her items, and as she turned I realized she was hugely pregnant. Of course, I mentally rolled my eyes.
Hang on, let me hit pause. I always roll my eyes when I get stuck in a situation where I have to deal with a pregnant person because it seems slightly ironic to me. The one thing I can’t do like most of the other women in the world is get pregnant. Isn’t it ironic that I keep crossing paths with preggers? Cue Alanis Morissette. Oh yeah, I forgot for a moment that she shared her story of a home birth in a documentary I watched. Adds some more irony I’m sure. Or maybe that’s the sleep deprivation talking.
So, as I’m in line rolling my eyes mentally as the very pregnant woman in front of me pays, another person walks up behind me. I look in that person’s general direction to see another very pregnant woman. Ugh. Eye roll continues.
Did I mention my boss is pregnant? Well, she is, and worse is she tried to hide it from me. Comical, since I was the first person to ask her about it at work. She had all the classic signs, how could I not notice? This week at work, my first full week back since taking Eva to California, she has been avoiding me. I’m sure she’s trying to stay out of my way so I don’t start crying, but it makes it worse. I’m okay, I’m not going to fall apart unless you treat me differently. Then I’m going to get angry. My life should have come with an owner’s manual to help navigate through such situations.
Here I lay, missing my daughter, wishing for my body to cooperate, fighting sleep, and trying very hard to just focus on right this second. Everything seems so much smaller, insignificant even, if I can focus outside of myself, outside of my life and my own drama. Even better, I will quit fighting sleep and just give in for tonight.
Tomorrow is a new day.
Maybe my boobs and back won’t hurt tomorrow for apparently no reason since my body refuses to start a new cycle.
Tomorrow is a new day.
Cycle day 35…