Fuck it. Not a flippant one, an anger driven and emotionally charged fuck it.
Sunday morning of a long holiday weekend should be delightful. Put on your sad pants people, it’s not delightful.
- Did my OPK (I know cut the acronym game out already- ovulation predictor kit) and it detected “no surge.” Fancy fucking way of saying you are NOT ovulating.
- Open my Facebook app…SURPRISE! There’s a pregnancy announcement.
- Scroll down…my friend (not really, but someone I went to college with,) is pregnant with her 700th baby (not really but I’ve lost count,) took a selfie in the middle of the night while she was eating icecream and complaining about how “uncomfortable she is.”
You think POAS (peeing on a stick) and getting “not pregnant” is bad…trust me it is 5 millions time worse when you POAS and you find out you aren’t even ovulating! So now my body isn’t even doing what it is supposed to be doing. Can’t wait to do another one of those tests tomorrow.
Brace yourselves. I’m about to go on an epic rant. Expletives will be used. Lots and lots of expletives.
I fucking hate every single minute of this “journey.” Let’s call it what it really is, a shitshow. On a journey you get to travel somewhere. We can’t even do that! Seriously, we can’t go away for a decent amount of time. Between the countless doctors appointments, having to order pills and start them on exact days of my cycle, the various times where bloodwork is needed on the fly, having a “collection” dropped off, and getting injections overnighted, the ONLY time we can go away would be when I have my period. Fuck that! Nothing like already feeling like a marshmallow and then having your period too, “let me go throw on my bikini” said no woman ever. Someone said that we should do a quick Caribbean vacation to relax. Really, do you live under a damn rock? Two words: zika virus. If you don’t know what it is look it up on Google. WHY does my body not do what it’s supposed to do, like ovulate when it’s “charted” to be ovulating. I hate the unknown and feeling like a yo-yo on a daily basis. And last but definitely not least, I am SO over the transvaginal ultrasounds, enough already. Know why I really hate all of this? Because everyone keeps telling me keep your eyes on the end of all of this. Which is such a load of bullshit.
What if four months from now (the notion of going through this four months from now makes me want to crawl out of my skin,) I decide that I (me, solely me,) can not handle another fucking minute of this insanity and that I’m DONE. Where’s the baby? There isn’t one.
What if we will never be able to have a baby? Seriously, though. Let’s think about that. Really…think about it, because I know people that have done treatments for YEARS and still don’t have a child. Where’s their baby? There isn’t one.
What if I decide that I really don’t have it in me to adopt? Because the more I think about it, the more close minded I am to the idea, but I’m countlessly reminded that’s also an option. (One with a $30-$45k price tag) Where’s the baby when I say I don’t want to adopt? There isn’t one.
The real bitch about infertility is there is NO guarantee about a baby. There’s a hopeful promise. Which shouldn’t even be a promise because it’s not a guarantee. Any other time you’re shelling out thousands of dollars you GET something; whether it be a car, a house, a new handbag, a pet, or whatever else, you have a tangible item. The only guarantees in infertility until you “maybe have a baby” are misery, heartache, discomfort, empty bank accounts, and an unparalleled anger towards everything.
So fuck you infertility…
…fuck you pregnancy announcements.
…fuck you who “accidentally” got pregnant.
…fuck the upcoming baby showers.
…fuck you to my body which can’t do anything right.
…fuck you to those that “struggled for a few months” to get pregnant.
…fuck you to those that are going on vacation.