I feel like rain.

I've been ok the last few days. IUI #2 was on Saturday, so I am 3dpiui. We had 50 million sperm, 65% motile and grade of 3 (whatever that means). I felt *pretty* positive, but then, so did I for IUI #1. I actually went to confession on Saturday afternoon for the first time in about 10 years. When I told him about D (my "friend," whom I don't really like, who is pregnant; she's a friend through marriage), I started to cry. I told him that I can't look at her, can't call her and I can't even think about her. It just hurts and I hate it. I hate that pain that infertility has brought me. Because I never wanted it and never expected it.

He told me that 1) children are God's gift, but like the women in the Bible, those children are meant to "give back to God." I'm still thinking about what that means. 2) My Penance was to call D (which I did) and 3) To realize that this is a part of life that can not be planned for but that he could see I have lots of love to give children and that he would pray for me.

OK. I felt so weepy and wonderful when I left. Meanwhile, at home, Mr. Hysterical is acting like a loon. He can't be at home w/o cleaning something and he was just really distant from me. Sometimes I think the act of the IUI makes him feel secondary and like he had no part in it. Not sure if that is what it was, but he was mopey too. Two mopey people. I'm tired of asking him "what's wrong?" and "did I do something?" I'm tired of that b/c I feel so burdened by what may or may not be happening in my abdomen and the ramifications of each outcome. I honestly feel like I need him to be the strong, funny, optimistic one... and I didn't marry him for any of these qualities. What I did marry him for was his patience. And his love for me, which I can feel in my core. And his logic. And his love of my family. I just really miss Mr. Hysterical right now. I just feel like we're really far apart and I'm not sure what's going on.

He emailed me and told me he missed me and that he went to some fun restaurant for lunch w/ co-workers. I broke. I wrote him and said that he only does fun, spur-of-the-moment stuff w/ his co-workers and leaves the chores and moodiness to me. Of course, I'm guilty of the same (not the lunches, but the moodiness). I told him I was angry. So evidently I'm like a 4th grader today. I feel about as stable as a 10 year old. I just feel like I never see him and when I do, it's chores, RE appts, dinners under duress, stressing about work or how we hate living here, car problems, "what's wrong?" and "what can I do?" and "is something the matter?" I'M JUST SO SICK OF IT. I want my life back. I want my mojo back and our hot dates back and my running back and my climbing back and the me who wasn't jealous of people w/ baby bumps. I hate this crazy, new version of me. I miss me and him and us. I feel like this baby who may or may not exist yet has taken over all happiness b/c this baby is now the only event that would make me happy. I feel like I'm a slave to my RE and to my husband and to all of the expectations of being perfect that I have for myself. I'm so tired. I look tired and I am.

I'm not sure if it's the HCG trigger that's making me this way. That was 6 days ago. But I feel crazy. And I've got a cold coming on. So I'm stuffy and and blowing my nose and clearing my throat and I'm grumpy. All right. Pity party complete.

Self-Absorption

Sometimes I honestly worry about myself. I've had a hard time finding pleasure in life, lately. The times that I feel happy are becoming fewer and farther between. Last night I was awake from 2-5 a.m. I've been waking up occasionally to pee and I'll have this horrible feeling that I'll never be a mother and that my time, $ and body are all being wasted. I've read somewhere that that fear of becoming a mother (or maybe not becoming a mother) is a deep, emotional obstacle to becoming physically pregnant. I stress out. Last cycle, after the IUI, we had a huge argument around 12 dpo. Did I fuck things up?

I compare myself. I think, "that crackhead in jail had sperm enough to knock her up. We'll be fine." Or, "my sister took 4 years to conceive." We will able to conceive eventually, too. Or, "the other sister needed injections, IUI and had 6 follies to get pregnant." That's what I need -- more follies. "She ate poultry and eggs and got pregnant." Make myself an omelette.

I just wonder how much of it is mental and emotional. Certainly emotionally-drained women get pregnant. And teenagers who fret about getting pregnant/jumping on trampolines/getting trashed manage to get pregnant. I'm just worried about how far we'll go, how much it will cost, what my body's capable of, if I'll need a lap, if my doc is a joke. It's just consuming me.

B and I made a list last night of "fun" and "positive" things I can do with him or alone, while he's climbing (I'm not allowed to climb/run anymore). It's a good list. I guess I need to focus on doing nice things for myself and trying as much as possible to get it all out here. I admit I felt better yesterday. Like I purged. Not that I ever have purged... but it was cathartic. ;)

Where do I put it?

I've been lurking on some infertile/subfertile sisters' blogs lately (by lately, I mean the past 6 months)-- totally reticent about beginning to writing down my own, private trials. Reading their journeys is painful enough. Experiencing life as it is, is painful enough. At least to me, it is. I'd rather have shitty experiences -- the period, the hurtful comment, the pregnant women who are mysteriously drawn to my environment -- and leave the memories in the dirt to die. The problem is that they don't die. They keep me up in the middle of the night. And I know that I have not withstood even an iota of the suffering that other women have. And they survive. They sustain me. They let me know that infertility won't kill me. They teach me. Unbeknownst to them. They get that secret something no one else can understand. The longing. The feeling of failure. Of jealousy. The searing pain. The neurosis of the 2 week wait. The anger that comes with others' well-intended advice. The asking "why?" You are my sisters.

Yesterday at mass, I was feeling so transcendent and full of calm breath. Thinking, "I'm just submitting to Your will, God. I'll wait. I'll do what you want. Nothing is bothering me right now." UNTIL I got home. Checked my email and BOOM, another one is pregnant. And. I. am. not. How many friends of mine have become pregnant since I've been trying to conceive? J.H. D.C. S.K. And now M.D. How many more will become pregnant before I ever do? When is my fucking turn? Jesus Christ. I can't take it. I can't take the waiting. The feeling of unworthiness. The feelings of failure that I've done something in my past to account for this present situation. I hate it. Hate hate hate that I'm turning into a bitter, cynical, jealous bitch. There was a baby shower yesterday that I could not attend. I told the host that I would be out of town. This is true, in a literal sense. I am 2 hours away from where the shower was. But the truth is that I can not set my eyes on this woman. I just can't. Last weekend she sent "belly pictures" to us. I saw them and nearly cried. I never imagined that the pain of this would ever surface. That looking at pictures and hearing the announcements would hurt so viscerally. They do. And the pain has surfaced. And I need somewhere to put it so that it doesn't eat me alive.

Am I losing hope? I don't know. I just can't imagine my body becoming pregnant. I try. I try to visualize being filled with life and carrying my husband's baby. It just seems so far away and so impossible.

I just know that I want to record this. For posterity. And in case of the implausible event that I do become pregnant and bear a child -- I want them and the world to know how I suffered for them. For their existence. And how much they mean to me. And even if they pierce their nose, dye their hair pink and run off with a dirty punk bass player, I wanted them. And I still love them.