For those of you keeping score at home, this month isn't the one.
Following the whole schedule actually wasn't as bad as I thought at first. It was certainly overwhelming to process in the beginning, but with the help of a spreadsheet (of course - this is me, after all), it was pretty straightforward.
There were only 5 days that I had to take two pills a day, and it turns out I apparently can have applesauce every single day without getting sick of it. even the suppositories weren't bad. Easy to put in, no leakage. They were shaped like tiny little torpedoes, and had the feeling and consistency of a solid deodorant. Little torpedoes of deodorant, that's just what they were like.
So all that wasn't so bad. Elric's been on the Clomid. I'm still taking Levothyroxine. We had sex on every single day we were supposed to, without fail.
And yet, we failed. Once more, we failed. I figured the answer would come this weekend. Yesterday was day 31, and it could have been anywhere between yesterday and Sunday, day 34. If I didn't know by Monday (Elric's birthday), I was going to take a test. But no. In the midst of baking Elric's cake, I took a bathroom break only to find the telltale red stain that once again dashed my hopes. Usually I get cramps about 12 hours prior, so I'm virtually never surprised, but tonight the cramps didn't come until about 30 minutes afterward.
I had been feeling pretty good about this month. I wasn't letting myself get too excited, but I felt like we tried really hard and finally did everything we were supposed to do, exactly when we were supposed to do it. So what the hell?
So am I upset? I guess so. That probably sounds ridiculous. I don't feel so much upset right now as I feel apathetic. It's 1 AM. I promised Elric I'd be in bed by midnight. I need to get good sleep. But why bother? What's the point, really? It's not like I'm actually pregnant.
I really, really want to get pregnant. I very much want a child. And yet, a soon as I saw the red stain I wondered if I wanted to do this again for another month.
And I get that what we're doing now, with the drugs and specific days to have sex, is not nearly as far as it can go. So many woman have gone very much further, have put up with so much more to have a baby. Why do I feel like flaking out? Why am I not feeling like the strong one, dedicated to seeing this through to success?
Ask anyone, and they'll tell you a strong woman with an even stronger personality. So why the hell do I just want to quit right now? Why do I feel so defeatist about this?
Why aren't I pregnant?
(I feel like I'm writing into a void, by the way. If you happen across this and read it, please leave a comment so I feel like there's someone else out there.)