A great honor has been bestowed upon me by the lovely and fabulous (and fellow Charleston-loving chick) Chatham:
“The blogger who receives this award believes in the Tao of the zombie chicken – excellence, grace and persistence in all situations, even in the midst of a zombie apocalypse. These amazing bloggers regularly produce content so remarkable that their readers would brave a raving pack of zombie chickens just to be able to read their inspiring words. As a recipient of this world-renowned award, you now have the task of passing it on to at least 5 other worthy bloggers. Do not risk the wrath of the zombie chickens by choosing unwisely or not choosing at all…”
So… the coveted Zombie Chicken goes to these inspiring ladies…
Happy is What Happens When All Your Dreams Come True
Speak of the Indescribable
A Real Baby Peach
Your Average Pregnancy After Infertility Blog
I HATE TTC. With the fire of a thousand suns, I loathe it. I feel like I am in a constant state of panic, and it’s literally all that I can think about. My temp dropped some today, it’s looking like it normally does: great until about 7 dpo, drop, rise, drop again, then AF. The cramps started last night, and I am an emotional basket case. Knowing that my emotional insanity is due to PMS, sent me that much more over the edge. I can’t stop crying. I feel like this is never going to happen. This is our 5th month of fertility treatments (if you count Met as a fertility drug, which I kind of do since it made me o) and I can’t help feeling more hopeless everyday. We can’t do a thing further with the RE until our house sells, which is not looking very promising.
I have been reading “The Purpose Driven Life” to help myself, and the night before last, the entry was about every problem having a purpose. That God puts us through hardship to teach us/ improve us/ help us grow. God, I am done growing/ learning what it’s like to be infertile. I get that I need to be more patient and more faithful, but month after month of this crap has made me the complete opposite, and I don’t like what I am becoming.
What makes me feel even worse is how stupid hopeful I was this time. I haven’t worked out in five days. Why? I didn’t want to “shake something loose” doing a vigorous workout. I know I wouldn’t even if I was pg, but it was a mental thing. So stupid. I can assure you, I will be doing the Shred today. Screw running my life around an imaginary baby that will probably never be real. I hate this. I hate this. I hate this. DH is the one thing holding me together right now. I am so thankful to have such an amazing husband.
ETA: Sorry for this psycho downer post today. I am sure this too shall pass, but it’s just one of those days. Thankfully, I have some amazing IRL and internet friends that help me feel better in moments like this!
So, I just talked to DH. ::stops laughing long enough to type:: His first words to me were “Do I have to do that again?” I said “No, not for another analysis, just if we do IUI or IVF.” His response: “I hate that place.” He proceeded to tell me first thing, how sticky the coffee table was in “the husband room.” He was horrified. I assured him that the stickiness was surely due to their cleaning stuff, not “something else” as he insinuated. LOL. Apparently, the thought of even touching one of the magazines in the room was enough to make my little germ-a-phobe (or sperm-a-phobe) very nervous, plus he said the one in the front of the stack was “Big Black Booties.” So, he went for the DVDs. Apparently, they have a 5 disc changer and the first DVD he came to was “Black School Girl Sluts.” Trevor was not impressed. The rest of the movies were apparently 80′s low budget flicks. Again, Trevor was not impressed. He, despite the odds stacked against him, did his job. It’s going to be two weeks before I get the results! I think that’s ridiculous. I got the results from the last one in two days. Jerks.
Speaking of my darling husband, he made me cry last night in the best of ways. I came home to see a gift bag on the kitchen island and a card. DH looked at me smiling. I started to tear up before I even opened the card. He wrote how much he appreciated me and loved me, and how he was sorry my past few days have been so hard. I couldn’t even manage a “Thank you” for a couple minutes because I couldn’t stop crying. My gift was “Bride Wars” which came out on DVD yesterday. I’ve been wanting to see it, and he knows I love wedding movies. He even watched it with me. Such a sweet, sweet guy! I love him.
Temp popped back up this morning. However, it was a complicated temping situation. I woke up with my mouth open and my temp was 98.33. I was glad it was over 98, but I knew it wasn’t right since my mouth was open, so I temped vaginally. Usually there isn’t much difference between the two, maybe .1 at most. Today proved different. First temp was 98.65. This made me excited, but I temped again to be sure. It was 98.47. ?? So, I did it a third time and it was 98.53, so I just went with 98.5. Who knows. I have to remind myself that it doesn’t really matter, my temps don’t actually affect my pregnancy status.
DH is at the RE’s office as I type this, I am sure not enjoying himself. He said he didn’t mind going, he just didn’t like how early it was. Not exactly the sexiest hour, 7 am. Hopefully all goes well!
All is dandy until about 7dpo, and then the chart explodes. Take a gander at this lovely temp dive:
I’m not even going there with the “maybe it’s implantation!?!” nonsense because every time I have any sort dip, it’s NEVER implantation. I don’t think I slept weird, aside from sleeping shirtless because I itch like crazy, but I woke up about as warm as usual. I actually thought my temp would be high again from how warm I was. I do not think it’s AF coming, it’s so early and I am not cramping as of this minute ::knocks on wood::. Who knows! By the way, charting is stressing me out, again, but I can’t stop because I am pretty much over the halfway point. Must. Keep. Charting!
DH has his second SA tomorrow morning at 7:30. I do not know how long it will take for the results to come in, but I will make sure DH asks when he gets to the RE’s office tomorrow. I wish by some miracle it would be worlds better than last time in the morphology department, but I guess I’ll have to be “patient” and wait.
Oh, and I HATE MY JOB!!!!!! It’s been one of those days where everything on Earth is “my” fault… as usual. (For the record, nothing was MY fault)