A Bit of Wallowing

And now we're zero for two.

We had our second try-for-a-baby attempt two weeks ago (on Mother's Day, no less). This one went smoothly. We put a lot of intention into this one. This one, we were sure, would be the one.

Then, 11 days later, in an extra Nelson-y, HA ha kind of fashion, I was woken up at 2 AM with what can only be described as some spectacular cramps, and with that, we were out of the running again.

I am feeling less okay about it this time around. I am wondering if maybe there's something wrong with me, too. I am wondering how many times we can afford to keep doing this. I am allowing myself to indulge in just a little bit of "How come that crazy bitch gets to pop kids out like a Pez dispenser and it's so fucking hard for us?"*

I have a friend who has also dealt with infertility and is going through her own process, and while I wish she wasn't, because she will be the most amazing mom ever some day and it shouldn't be taking this long for her to have that chance, I am so grateful to have someone in my life who gets it. She doesn't tell me what we should have done differently, or tell me to "just relax" or spout some bullshit about how God has a plan. She just is sad for me, as I am for her, because she knows all too well what a shitty, shitty thing this is.

It's been almost four years since we found out we had a problem. And I'm wondering how long it's going to take for a solution. All those women who joke about their ticking biological clocks really have no idea how loud, and scary, that fucking thing can get.

*Since I work with pregnant women, I feel the need to clarify that I have a specific crazy bitch in mind who I do not have contact with at this time. I bear no ill will toward the pregnant ladies in my life on a daily basis!