Ugh! The day your period comes, when you’re trying for a little one, is one of pure insanity. At least it is for me, and I think if it’s not for you, what the hell is wrong with you?? I go through all the ranges of emotions, usually in quick succession, and usually for long enough to make me feel like I am a legit crazy person. It’s fucking horrible! I am so so over it, and it makes me wish I didn’t want the cookie so so much. The cookie in this circumstance is a baby/littlebug/littleone. Life is hard when you want the cookie.
So with the menses, it all starts with the symptoms leading up to it, with my mind usually hoping that these symptoms are in fact early pregnancy signs. The dull abdominal cramping, the migraine, the breakout of pimples along the jawline… my mind is thinking, ‘Uhh hello, it could totally be pregnancy hormones! And that spotting…let’s hope it’s the implantation bleed!’ Um, it never has been the implantation bleed. So why the hell would it be different this time? Now that last thought, is usually what I am thinking when I experience the actual blood shed, the fucking crimson tide of crushed dreams. I’m somewhat devastated, but also tell myself that deep down I knew that I was going to get it anyway. So really, I’m not surprised am I? Am I? I can’t really tell anymore. I then find a silver lining, like a real schmuck, like, ‘Oh well, at least it means we can travel to Europe in August. I mean we probably won’t be travelling as much with a baby in tow, so best do it now’. And other linings, like saving money, going out where we want, when we want, and having more time to be selfish together. Those silver lining bastards!! That false sense of everything is A-okay. But, then again, those silver linings don’t sound all bad. See, there we go again, that back and forth between really wanting the cookie, and then not really caring either way. Cookie, no cookie. Cookie, no cookie.
After the silver linings, and the back and forth, cookie, no cookie, I then feel irrationally angry and frustrated. The mere look of my husbands face sends me into meltdown, into fits of rage almost. Like hello, support me some more would you please! Nothing he could say could placate me. I am irrationally unreasonable. I must pick a fight in this instance, and do so, at first in jest, and then for serious, and eventually I am crying my eyes out. Because I have hormones okay! Fuck these fucking hormones and this fucking shit fight of fertility! I want to scream until my voice is gone. I want the world to know that I am not a happy little vegemite.
But then I calm down… Eventually, and I realise that this journey is pretty hardcore, but it only makes me stronger. It will hopefully be a testament to how much of a miracle those little ones will be. Those little ones that are mine, and ours, and are waiting to be loved on by us. I can’t wait to be someone’s mum and to feel that motherly love and instinct and bond. I want to be a mama bear so so much, but it seems so out of reach;
DAMN YOU FERTILITY GODS/GODDESSES!
Suddenly Thirty-One.. 