It’s taken me some time to (semi)recover from Monday.
The other day, I emailed my mom to see whether she’d like to have dinner with me tonight while Catch is chaperoning a dance. I almost didn’t send the email because I knew if she wrote back to tell me that she already had plans, I was going to cry.
I’m just a bit sensitive.
And bitter. Every bit of broccoli I eat, I think it may as well be a fucking cupcake for all the good it’s doing me. Every step I take on the treadmill, I find myself thinking I might as well just throw in the towel and turn on the TV.
It’s a battle. Though I have yet to eat any cupcakes or throw in any towels this week, so I guess I’m winning. For now.
While I was running Wednesday night, I had a talk with myself. I told myself I need to switch gears and stop getting healthy for the sake of getting pregnant and start doing it just for me. I don’t know how possible that’s going to be considering that all I’ve had in my head since November is Diet + Exercise = Baby, but I’m going to try because clearly Diet + Exercise ≠ Baby.
Aside from throwing a wet blanket on our baby making fire, the RE confirmed on Monday a bunch of things I already knew. I’m CMV-, my blood sugar is good, my thyroid is normal, and everything else looks fine. I just can’t ovulate like a normal human female. Leading cause of infertility and all that jazz.
She did tell us that we can inseminate despite the lack of drugs this cycle if I manage to have a “normal” cycle and ovulate on my own. I don’t have much (any) hope of that happening since the only “normal” cycles I’ve had in the past 14 months have been while I’m on clomid or in the couple of months following a dose of clomid.
Once again, we are at the mercy of things beyond our control, and I have no choice but to suck it up and carry on. I feel like a broken record.