April 14, 2021
As I sit here this morning crying over my yogurt, I know how hard it is going to be today to get out of my own head. I knew this was going to be a possibility. In fact, I had planned on this happening because let's face it, nothing ever happens the easy way for me. Nothing ever turns out the way I hope and pray it will. Nothing EVER happens the way it just SHOULD. Nothing. Ever. Happens.
My body doesn't work. My body is just broken, plain and simple. If I could return it under the lemon law I would have long ago. Most women can just sneeze and get pregnant. They don't even have to try, it just happens. Anytime they want, they can just snap their fingers and conceive on demand. It's been 11 years. 11 years of failed cycle after failed cycle after failed cycle. Dozens and dozens of rounds of Clomid and Letrozole, procedures that turn up no obvious problems, hundreds of tubes of blood work, thousands and thousands of dollars worth of medical bills, and now multiple rounds and thousands of dollars worth of hormone injections and trigger shots. All of this, and I have only been able to get pregnant 3 times. All 3 times, my pregnancies failed. My body is a failure.
I cry into my yogurt today, because today is day 2 of my new cycle, and I have yet to be able to actually utter the words to my husband that I failed him again. The more I avoid actually having a conversation with him, the more he just gets upset with me because he thinks I am hiding something. Yea, I am hiding the fact that I am dying inside. I am hiding the bags under my eyes from crying for 2 days. I am hiding from the world because I just can't take it anymore.
In March I started my first "timed" cycle. This means that practically every other day for 3 weeks I had to be up at 4:30am to get ready to go to my doctor's office for ultrasounds and blood work. These appointments are only done between 6am and 7am. I am so NOT a morning person, so the only good thing about the timing is not having to take time off from work for it. Ultimately, the month of March was an utterly exhausting struggle. On day 3 of my cycle, I started daily injections. (Side note: I have a heart condition that makes me pass out from time to time, especially in anxious situations, and I also have a history of passing out due to a fear of needles. Needless to say, stabbing myself with needles every day for 3 weeks is going to be quite the fun experiment! Good news though, I only passed out once. Go me.) Anyways, this is usually a 2 week process, however because once again, my body is broken, for me it took 3 weeks and continuously increasing my dosage until my body finally produced 2 viable follicles. Now its time to take the trigger shot and get to work.
After the trigger shot is injected, you basically have to wait 2 weeks to see if it works. Do you know how long 2 weeks is when you have to wait to take a pregnancy test? It's like 2 years!! The HCG from the trigger shot stays in your system for approximately 12 days, so you can't even cheat and try and test sooner. You just have to sit in your random assortment of confusing symptoms while trying not to get yours and everyone elses hopes up, wondering to yourself what the hell is happening inside there, for 2 full weeks. Straight up torture.
Welp, yesterday my body gave me the answer I needed, when my cycle started over again. Today, I sit smothering myself in my dark thoughts. The older I get, the worse my dad's health gets. The older I get, the older my one last remaining grandparent gets. The older I get, the older my nephew gets, which means the larger the age gap between him and his cousins will be. The older I get, the less eggs my body produces. My time is quite literally running out, the older I get. With every cycle that passes, the older I get, and the sadder I get.
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