So, things got a little batshit around here yesterday. I don’t know if you noticed.
You probably did. 😉
And to say things were batshit implies they were significantly more batshit than normal, which is really saying something. I mean, how batshit can things be?
Evidently VERY BATSHIT.
(God, I love the word batshit.)
Seriously though, you all must think I’m a total nutbag. Getting all worked up over ovulating a day later than usual? WHO FUCKING CARES?! Am I right?
Evidently I do.
The thing is, there is so little in this process I can control, the few things I know are true, even if there aren’t many of them, are precious. I believed I didn’t ovulate after a certain date because ALL EMPIRICAL EVIDENCE pointed to that truth. And then my body decided to remind me that actually, I don’t know even that which I thought I knew. Normalcy is a mirage. NOTHING, evidently, is sacred.
It’s funny. I should be embracing this whole, have-sex-every-other-day-regardless-of-fertility-signs because it gives me a PLAN that is not contingent on understanding my body. It takes the decision making away from me. And yet I’m so unwilling to embrace it. Why is that? Why do I want to make this harder for me than it has to be?
I obviously don’t trust this sex every other day plan. Maybe it seems too easy. I mean, the hard part about TTC is hitting your O date like the big, giant, moving bullseye that it is, right? If I don’t have to try to do that anymore, if I just pick pick odd CDs after 11 and hope for the best, and it’s okay if I don’t hit my O date, I feel like I’m not trying hard enough to get pregnant some how. Like it’s too easy.
Last night we stayed up super late to have sex again because a positive OPK = ovulation, right? Evidently not. My temperature was still down this morning and (this is the best part) I got ANOTHER positive OPK. How can I not get a positive on those things for MONTHS and then get two in a row?! My body is obviously fucking with me, and I’m beginning to thing it has an agenda. It’s trying to teach me the most poignant TTC lesson of all, YOU CAN’T MAKE SENSE OF THIS BECAUSE IT’S AN ENIGMA. So stop trying.
And fucking commit to sex every other day for Christ’s sake.
I officially give up. On this cycle at least. I’m not going to have sex today because that is the surest way to coax ovulation. I have to admit, I’m afraid. It’s CD16 and I’ve never ovulated past CD14 and that scared voice in the back of my mind, reminding me that this may be the cycle where I just stop ovulating and my amenorrhea returns, is piping up, making itself heard.
I just want to be done doing this.
I just want to be pregnant.
And now I’m crying.
I swear to god. I’m a fucking basket case. A batshit basket case.
I hate my body right now. I hate myself. I actually identified a new reason why I hate TTC, beyond the lack of control and the failure. Well, it’s actually related to the failure. I don’t like not being good at things. I’m NEVER not good at things. Actually, that’s not true. I’m NEVER not good at the things I pursue. There is plenty I’m crappy at, but when I’m shitty at something I gracefully step away and don’t look back. I don’t push myself to do things I’m inherently crappy at because I have enough talents I’m interested in pursuing. But I’m shite at TTC, I’m shite at getting pregnant and I’m even bigger shite at dealing with the mindfuck involved in trying to get pregnant. So yeah, I just don’t like trying to achieve goals I probably won’t reach in the time or manner that I would prefer to reach them. Trying to write and publish fiction has been my first real foray into that, and it’s fucking hard for me, but at least I LIKE writing fiction. I DO NOT like TTC, so the whole thing is just an emotional shit show.
Between BlogHer and this wonky cycle and packing my house and some really intense work-related panic (more on that later) and wondering if we should give our 30 days today even though we’re still not sure my parents are getting their money… I just want to crawl under something and sleep until everything has been resolved.
Or at least until I’ve ovulated.