It has been 10 years this month since we started ttc #2. I have tried not to think about it, but today it just all came crashing in on me.
A coworker thought she needed to ask me her opinion on whether I thought she was pregnant even though a zillion tests were negative. A super long story short, I highly doubt it, but she just wouldn't stop talking about her million symptoms. I played nice, although she wasn't so I'm not sure why I felt like I needed to, but I did. What I wanted to say was: FUCK YOU. DOES IT LOOK LIKE I KNOW WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO BE PREGNANT AT THIS POINT IN MY LIFE? It was 10 1/2 years ago for goodness sakes. I don't even know what I had for dinner last night.
But I didn't. She has been pregnant three times, so I'm not sure why she felt the need to ask me. She claimed it was because I had a lot of knowledge about it all. Uh, not exactly. We are actually really close, this was just really bad timing I guess.
So, between the stress of the matching meeting getting moved this week (still haven't heard when it will be rescheduled) and the ten year anniversary (more like a memorial for all of my hopes and dreams) and then my coworker, it was just too much. Drinking is the name of the game. 7/7's anyone? Wine? Both? Yes, please.
On top of all that, I got a stupid Fitbit for Christmas in order to keep track of my steps and calories, maybe lose a few pounds. Guess what? I've gained 3 pounds since I've had it. Fuck my life. Fat and infertile. That should be the new title of my blog.
I've read that even after you adopt, the feelings of being infertile always remain. Even after having a baby, you still carry around that title. Fuck this, too. I'm not sure how, but I have got to beat this damn infertile shit.
As I sit here, all pissy and sad, I should write what would make me happy and just fucking do it. Ok. Here it goes:
1. Adopt an older child. Not as easy as I thought it would be.
2. Another Fresh IVF. I'm fucking nuts, but why not? Who needs money?
3. Run a marathon. Hold up, lady. Now you're talking crazy.
4. Edit to #3: Walk a marathon. Ok. Let's start training... tomorrow. After all, I'll hopefully not even be able to stand here in a bit.
5. Quit my job, wear sweat pants all day, and throw this fucking Fitbit out the window. I might throw the Fitbit out, but gotta work. Love my job and need $ for IVF or raising an older adopted child and Ayden OR shopping for new workout clothes for marathon walking.
6. Speaking of shopping: Buy new sweatpants. The ones I'm currently wearing have a few (dozen) tiny holes in the crotch. These aren't even good enough for Wal.mart...you won't catch me dead in a Wal.mart. I'm just saying that these particular shitty pants can't be worn there. Yes. They are that bad. And the crotch hangs down to my knees. Judge me. See if I care. I don't.
7. Have a hysterectomy. No more period. Yes. Thank you. I should add that this will be after #2 has been completely followed through on. Otherwise, we're screwed.
8. As I'm being rolled back into the operating room for my hysterectomy, yell at the top of my lungs: FUCK YOU ENDO! I WIN! Can you get kicked out of the hospital for that? I hope not. That will piss me off.
9. After my hysterectomy, start running again. No pain, no bloating, no bleeding to death. That should help, right?
10. Take my huge family to Disney without my lady innards so I can enjoy the time rather than worry about when my ovary will blow up or my uterus will go on strike and try and kill me.
There. That sounds lovely. Let's see what 2014 can bring! Let's admit it: It can't get any worse!
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