…on the third day of clomid, the nausea came to me!
Like a blinding left hook to my jaw. BOOM! On the way home, I was thinking what have I done differently today, than the prior two evenings I took that little white pill. I ate. I had dinner. Really, could that be what caused me to run out of the room, up the stairs, and be sick? I hope not, but I can assure you there will be no food consumed at least two hours prior to me taking this pill the next two days. If I was pregnant I could have said “morning sickness at night, this baby doesn’t shy away from a full day of commitment.” But I’m not, and no matter what spin I put on it, it just doesn’t sound great, “already nauseous because of my fertility drugs,” “puking and not pregnant,” “foreshadowing to the day I have something to blame this on!” I kid I kid…sort of.
Today I was asked who knows about this blog…the answer is 9 people. And of those maybe four are reading it. They are also the select individuals that know what we are going through. As I said yesterday to my MIL, it isn’t as though you introduce yourself to someone and follow it up with “I’m having fertility treatments; it was so nice meeting you!” There is this horrible and almost immediate self hate associated with being declared infertile. With just a few little words one immediately feels some of this assortment, and many others creep in afterwards:
It’s not something that is spoken about openly. It seems as though it’s a taboo subject, and it certainly makes people uncomfortable. (I’ll save what makes me uncomfortable for another post, that’ll be a doozy.) I used to be completely mortified talking about it. Even with my DH! Certainly I wasn’t going to sit there and talk about these things with my parents and in laws!! What lovely dinner conversation, “not pregnant again this month, got my period…I have to have my follicles checked before I do the trigger shot….IUI, intrauterine not interuterine.” WHATTTTTTT!?!?
Now, it’s pretty much (read as: IS,) the driver of all conversations! Pretty sure my father and my father in law know more about my cycle, and where we are in our treatments than they ever could have possibly wanted to know. These are simply things one does NOT discuss. I can’t imagine ever having yelled “leave me alone dad, I have my period!” I’m not sure who would have reacted more strangely, him or I! (Fun fact, both my dad and father in law have been offered up to give me my injection!) Yes, there are times where I love not talking about all of this. I’m sure you couldn’t imagine that considering I blog about it.
But in all honesty, the handful of people that we have to discuss this with, we treasure and speak openly with. They listen to the bitching, crying, and insanely stupid mutterings. Also, when I say they listen to those things, it’s primarily me their ears are hearing. Example: A few weeks ago, I was on the phone with my mom. At first I was sobbing, and minutes later I was in a full blown Irish German rage. It’s like the flip of a light switch. It is NOT pretty. I feel that the “chosen ones” are the glass buoys keeping us afloat in all aspects. Until we decide we need more buoys, these are the people that are privileged to know what is happening.
Sometimes the biggest things, are those that are kept the closest.