reverse-psychology

I'm thinking hard about adopting a reverse psychology approach/attitude to this cycle's two week wait. It seems that my luck has been a bit off lately. And by lately I mean always, my whole life's existence, although I do consider myself extremely lucky in some regards... just not in matters such as these. Or winning the mega-millions and such. I'm unlucky in that regard too, in case anybody was wondering. So, I'm hoping that if I start approaching this pregnancy bit as something I desperately don't want to happen (like oh... 90% of teenagers and young adults who spend their lives preoccupied with finding ways to avoid pregnancy) then maybe I can trick my luck into dishing me what it thinks is a raw deal. Yah? Sara-SP - you're a psychology chica, what do you think? Can luck, personified, can be dooped?

So, I took a relaxing, much needed, bath tonight and I mapped out my approach. First, I'm going to attempt to ignore the fact that I may possibly be knocked up for the next week and a half, and then... on the day when I'm supposed to test - instead secretly sneaking sticks under my hoo-hoo whilst urinating for 3 days prior to the day I'm technically allowed to test, I'm going to drink a fair amount of tequila... saunter down to the quickie mart store (oh, who am I kidding, there is no quickie mart where I live... but I will saunter down, schnockered and such to the Whole Foods near where I work - cuz you know... I'll probably do it on business hours and such just to make it all the more inappropriate), and pick up a 6 pack of really nasty, cheap strong beer like Mickey's Big Mouth Malt liquor or maybe a bottle of Boon's Strawberry Hill, a pack of Lucky Strikes (no, I don't smoke, but I could start?) and a pregnancy test. And maybe some pork rhines (or is it rinds?). Just to finish off the ensemble, you know? And I'll pick out the most innocent looking check out person, stumble up to him or her, send my baggie of goods skidding fast and furiously across the checkout conveyor belt and give him/her a big sloppy grin and overly exaggerated wink and slur something to the tune of... "fuck, man... sure hope that little fucker's not positive again..."

cycles of hope

Today we went in for insemenation attempt # 8; or attempt # 3 since the miscarriage (as our person put it). I guess that all depends on how you chose to do the math. This month also marks the 1 year point from when we first started trying to conceive. Part of me feels like..."Holy shit! - has it been that long?" and the other part of me is like...Jesus Gay, what an effed up year this business has put us all through; let's get on w/it for f_cks sake.

On a bright note - this apopintment was entirely and shockingly down right pleasant. Practically like going to Disney Land, I dare say. I have to wonder if they turned over their entire staff. Everybody was RIGHT ON TIME (that's a first) and we had a woman we had never seen before who must have been new because she was so nice and helpful and interested and courteous and and and... wow! I'm still in a state of shock and it's been over 6 hours. It was by far the easiest appt. we've had to date. I'm giving some serious thought to writing a letter to the clinic asking if they could clone her and fire everybody else.... and what the hell took them so long???

So, thus begins another cycle of hope. That's what these stints have come down to. Lunar months bisected between hope and dismay. And today, I find myself feeling decidedly hopeful. I have something to look forward to for the next two weeks.

For this cycle (cycle 8/3), I'm revisiting to the 3rd time's a charm approach. It didn't work the first time, but hell... no need to give up just yet, right?

and p.s. cuz i'm not done bitching...

and the next time that whore Auntie Flow shows her bitch-ass face around these parts, I'm going to shoot her right between the eyeballs with this Hello Kitty assault rifle.

That should show her!

I've been putting off writing this because I'm still too steaming pissed to form rational words or thoughts around this subject. But I figured I owed people an update so here it is.

I AM NOT PREGNANT... again. and on top of that, I am officially sub-fertile (a.k.a.) FUCKING BROKEN!

This past cycle screwed with me so badly it was ridiculous. First I had spotting on DPO 5. I thought I was knocked up. Then more spotting on DPO 11. Odd, but definitely knocked up and there was no way in hell that time was an anal fissure or a figment of my overly active imagination. No way. I got a little concerned but remained confident when my spotting continued through DPO 12 and then DPO 13 greeted me with a full blown period. WHAT THE FLYIN' FUCK??? A 12 day leutal phase? Are you frickin' kidding me? How is it that when I started this process a full mother-effin' YEAR ago I had a perfect little 14 day leutal phase, a clear uterus and text book perfect hormone levels. I was primed for fertility and damn excited about what the future held. 12 months later and what do I have to show for it? Well, let's see. I've got a frickin' polyp that seems to get in the way of everything, a wacked out leutal phase and a god-damn bad attitude? Oh... and lest we forget NO BABY! Just fond memories of dabilatating human avalanches made out of my ovaries, about 15K less in the bank account and a fucking clock that is running out of time on me!

If it wasn't painfully obvious, I'm a little pissed off about this situation.