For the past year, we’ve been trying to get me pregnant. Every month, my period starts and the disappointment washes over my soul. By now though, I’m numb to it. This hormone thing is our last attempt. If it doesn’t work, then we’ll probably not have kids…at least I won’t be giving birth.
There’s no way we’re spending thousands of dollars to figure out why I can’t get pregnant or attempt to get me pregnant just to have it fail. I’m not a fan of in-vitro or any other expensive and frustrating measures that might get me pregnant. I’m afraid of what they might do to me or a fetus. These hormone pills are the limit for me.
The doctors can’t determine what might be wrong. My progesterone is a bit low (which is why I’m trying to supplement it), but it’s still in the healthy range. Other than that, there’s nothing unusual. It’s fucking frustrating.
I just hate how much pressure there is on me. I have to take the damn pills. I have to take the damn vitamins. I have to track my symptoms. I have to pee on goddamn sticks for a week to see when I might ovulate. What does my husband have to do? Have sex with me.
Did I ovulate? Probably. Sure, my hormone levels fluctuate as they should. The sticks I pee on tell me that. But after I see the solid smiley face when do I actually ovulate? No one knows. It could be in a few hours. It could be in two days. Either way, I’m always wrong.
What’s really annoying is that I get my damn period like there’s nothing wrong with me. It’s not fair. If I can’t have kids, why the fuck do I still have to menstruate so damn regularly? OK, It’s not that bad. I mean it’s just uncomfortable, it’s not so bad that I can’t go to work, but still, I’d rather go without if it’s completely pointless to have it in the first place.
I haven’t been writing about this “wonderful” journey because I just wasn’t ready to share it with the world. I had to get past that I might encounter receiving fake pity or being scrutinized because of my age or being judged as a failure according to ridiculous social norms that aren’t very normal.
At this point, I just want something definitive. I want to be told, no you’ll never have kids or to finally get pregnant and have a baby. I’m sick of the limbo. I want to get on with my life.
Why am I writing about it now? Because I think not writing about it has been causing my writer’s block. Maybe someone out there is going through the same thing. Maybe they’ll read this and feel better because they see someone else being frustrated and confused too.
Hell, I just want to get back into writing regularly.