Maybe it’s the new fertility medication?
Maybe it’s working full time and majorly over exerting myself at work.
I think it’s the fertility medications…
I can’t stop crying.
Everything seems so hard.
Everything seems so broken.
Like the exhaust system on my car I feel like I’m busted in two parts.
One part gets up and puts on a performance. Works. School. Take Phyllis to the vet. Eat.
The other part stays in bed because it physically hurts to get out of said bed and face the world.
Where people who don’t suffer from infertility and Meniere’s Disease exist.
They just have sex and get pregnant and glow and have a baby and share pictures of their stupidly adorable babies which make my heart and uterus both explode with joy and a jealousy I have never experienced.
They just get up and the world doesn’t spin.
I don’t get it.
I don’t understand why I can’t just do this.
Why this big skin bag full of blood and guts can’t just cooperate.
I can’t look at my husband without seeing the absolute and complete devastation in his beautiful eyes.
We coast on auto-pilot.
My new fertility medication came with the promise of less side effects – which isn’t untrue. I don’t have the crippling gastrointestinal symptoms. But hello hot flashes, night sweats, and irrational emotional swings.
The other morning when Matt got out of bed I was LITERALLY angry at him for going to work. In my irrational, hormonally jacked up brain I was angry at my husband for choosing to go to work and leave me home, to stew in my own self pity and hatred.
I was still kind of angry at him when he called over his lunch break.
Of course my rational brain was trying to reign me in.
Suddenly I lose the desire to do anything like just now – I was typing away and then something pulled me away and now I can’t get it back and the couch is calling my name and I will go.