I'm a red-eyed, red-nosed, snotty-nosed, noisy mess when I cry. Shockingly enough, I prefer to cry in private. My favorite crying zone is the shower. It does a good job masking my sobs and hiding my tears. I like to shower once I put the little one to bed so I have plenty of time to cry it out.
What was making me boo-hoo tonight? My monthly pity party, of course.
Aunt Flo showed up this afternoon, so I broke out the Diva Cup. I had hoped that I wouldn't have to lay eyes on that Cup for at least a year or more, but thanks to certain events that occurred this month, I knew it wasn't likely that I could be pregnant. I'm somewhat resigned to seeing the Cup for at least a few more months. I think my vagina is resigned too because it didn't even put up a fight and the Cup easily slipped in place.
I know a lot of pregnant women right now. Eleven or twelve, maybe thirteen, I can't recall exactly. These are nice moms and I'm happy that they are able to expand their families. Seeing their joy ripen makes me wonder when I'll experience that joy again. . .if I'll experience that joy again.
I picked up around 15 ovulation prediction sticks yesterday from a friend. She had only used a couple of them and decided not to use the rest. Those sticks have brought my fertility superstitions to ridiculously epic levels. I had the fleeting thought that the reason why I'm not pregnant right now is because I didn't have the cash on hand to pay her for the sticks right then. What one has to do with the other, I don't know. That's the deal with superstitions though, isn't it? They're freaking stupid and make no sense.
My husband seemed surprised that we have been trying to conceive another child for so long. He thought it had only been a few months. I guess he didn't realize that I track EVERYTHING on a calendar. I track when I have my period, I try to estimate when I'll ovulate, I try to seduce him a day or two before my estimated ovulation, I write down when I have evidence of ovulation, I try to seduce him on that day, I track each and every time we do it - ovulation or not. And I do this each and every month. I must be sly because he had no idea.
Adding to my fertility woes is my terribly erratic cycle. I go anywhere from 20 to 35 days. It pretty much makes estimating fertile days absolutely impossible. That's why I finally decided to give the ovulation predictor sticks a try.
I know it will happen when it happens, but we aren't getting any younger and biology is a real b*tch when it comes to stuff like this. If there isn't a baby in my belly by the end of this year, I just don't know what we would do. Give up, I suppose.
It's so foreign for me to consider defeat. I am stupidly stubborn and I give up on nothing. I keep trying even when it is clearly obvious that there is no point. I find it hard to give up hope because it's all I have. Eventually, though, even I see the futility and I move on.
I'm in such a sour mood that I picked up on the similarities between the words 'futility' and 'fertility' - I really, really, really need to stop.