Rats

Today My Beloved pointed out that since I'm not currently taking it, I can't blame Clomid on any crazy lady-esque outbursts I might have. Or might like to have. Or might plan to have.

Damn. Foiled again.

Whew...

Yeah, so enough with the Clomid. It's dastardly, that shit. They say it works (although I have plenty of evidence to the contrary) but in the meantime it makes living hell and me hell to live with. So we're taking at least a once cycle break from the stuff.

There are times when I think that if God wants this to happen, it will happen no matter what we do or don't do.

Well, we have to have sex. That I realize.

There's that story about the old man going to church day after day begging God to let him win the lottery until finally after several months he hears God's great booming voice pleading with him to buy a ticket. I know God helps those who help themselves. I know that. I know we can't sit around willing a baby into existence and doing nothing to help the process along.

But sometimes you have to know when enough is enough. At least for now.

I can feel all the tense little fibers of my body slowly relaxing as the drug works its way out of my system. I can feel the sanity returning. I can feel me again.

The fall is so much harder when it's a drug/IUI cycle, and not just because of the drugs. The hopes and the expectation of success, I think, are so much higher for me - and in everyone else's mind too. Because yeah, everyone knows. And my God, It's hard to fail so publicly. It makes it a rather spectacular exercise in agony, having to make the awkward, "Uh, yeah, so I got my period..." calls.

And doing it when you're so disappointed and so hormonal you're barely functioning adds that extra little dash of torture.

And I mean that seriously. Addled doesn't even begin to describe it. Fog is closer. But that horror movie style fog - the kind that strangles everything in its path and drags gouls and goblins along with it as it seeps into sleepy New England towns.

But it's better now. After a few days of angry tears, agonized longing for the boy I lost, and self-indulgent wallowing in the "should have beens", " could have beens", and "why, why why's", I'm finally feeling something akin to even keeled.

You know, for now anyway.

Sigh. I truly don't understand why this is so hard. I will never understand why all of this has been so hard.

Sorry. I need to rant again. And whine. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.

Okay, I know I whine about this every time I'm in one of my great, foggy-headed Clomid hazes, but seriously, why is this stuff so flocking AWFUL???

It's like having PMS ALL. THE. TIME. And it's all I can think about.

Literally all I can think of is how much I don't feel like me when I'm on this miserable fertility drug trip. And how much I miss the me I am when I'm not.

Yeah, the mourning, barren, slightly obsessive compulsive and mildly paranoid me. I actually miss her.

For the blissfully uninitiated, it's a little like standing in a giant water glass that is slowly filled to the brim while you stand on the bottom looking out at the world. By some miracle you can breathe and you don't actually die, but you can't react to anything around you the way you're used to, and you see and hear things WAY differently than you normally do. And no, you can't swim up to the top. Or get out. All you can do is stand there on the bottom, stupidly and helplessly, while the pressure of the water relentlessly squeezes the crap out of every little bit of you.

Everything makes you cry. Except stuff that actually should. And every once in a while you think you might actually be going insane, but you're not.

That's when the Clomid laughs its hardest.

Well, it also has a giggle when you allow yourself to consider the prospect of having to do it all over again when the current cycle fails. And it always seems to, doesn't it?

Doing it all again is terrifying to me. It builds up in your system, this heinous thing, and the amplification of crazy is...well, who the hell wants to amplify crazy???

Seriously, why can't they make something that doesn't fuck with your mind in such an awful way? Why? Why? Why?

Women are walking bags of hormones to begin with, can they not invent something that DOESN'T upset that easily upsettable balance??

We can put a man on the moon, but heaven forbid we should find a way to create a drug that doesn't contribute to an infertile woman's pre-existing brand of insanity.

Ugh.

And on that note I'm going to bed. Last night I dreamt that a naked man was carving a life size wooden sculpture with a sword out on his front lawn while My Beloved and I pondered a way to drag the life-sized matchbox car he'd just bought home.

I'm not even safe in my dreams...

Clomid, you are a bitch.

And that's the kind of day it's been

I made it all the way through a funeral on Thursday with just a little minor welling about the eyes.

Today, however, four and a half seconds of Dumbo set me off on a 10 minute crying jag.

Seriously, I hate Clomid.