This weekend has been a whirlwind. We’ve finished the Letrozole and entered what should be my fertile period. We’ve been testing for LH with not great results so far and it’s been devastating to me. I’m looking at the pictures of the test strips on my app and I’m just struggling to not be frustrated. Yesterday the test was even lower than the already low and I cracked. I could feel my entire body trembling in his arms when I walked out of the bathroom.
Some moments, I’m convinced that we’ve got this. That this is our month. That this month we will get our baby. And other moments I’m convinced that that baby is never going to come.
Mostly I’m angry about the membership to a club I never wanted to join. I wanted to join the mom club, but instead I’ve joined the club of infertility. I’ve been welcomed by other women, that are just like me. Women that are longing for their invite to motherhood. And I’m grateful, and I love the support, but I never wanted this and I still don’t want this. I don’t want to relate to infertility.
We sat on the couch yesterday and he said “if you keep obsessing it’s going to eat you alive.” He’s right, it’s going to, it already is.
I’ve been obsessively looking at the clock all day, watching it tick by. The 2nd test of the day is usually at 5ish and it’ll be when I get home from work tonight. The first test wasn’t great and I know that with some women, the onset is super quick and so I keep building myself up, just to be wildly disappointed.