I know that I am a blogging slacker.
Perhaps it's a good thing that I was so mentally exhausted that I could barely even formulate the simplest of blog comments. Perhaps it was a good thing that I had to drag my sorry infertile self to the stinky city every day for three weeks rather than wallow in the fact that we had passed the five year mark of my barrenness. Perhaps the Lord knew that I needed this government job to pad my resume because my career is going to be my focus, rather than the brood of children that I wanted to have.
I'm tired friends. This infertility business has gotten old.
Really, really old.
I've been toying more and more with the idea that we are just meant to be childless. My body seems to be telling me that I've been working against nature. If I was meant to get pg then it would've already happened. Like last month, when I had two beautiful follicles just waiting, but instead I was slapped in the face by more disappointment.
But we continue to go through the motions. I take my meds. I chart. We "enjoy" (there's nothing that says romance like timed intercourse!!!) marital relations at the optimal times. I get my blood drawn. Heck, I even pretend every month that there is a chance that I may actually have beaten the odds.
We're off to my fertile best friend's cottage for a few days. Maybe after hogging her infant I will feel rejuvenated and ready to tackle infertility. Or maybe I will stuff the baby into my overnight bag and drive away like a crazy lady.
I really hope that a few days on the island will renew my spirit, or at least refill my sleep debt. At least I know that I can enjoy a glass (or ten) of wine without worrying!