I had a serious meltdown in my head this afternoon (and er, also in a couple of other places that let me spew forth what is in my head).
The spotting was getting to me. The fact that it seems to be picking up was getting to me. The fact that I have no idea what my body is doing and what this means was getting to me.
Thinking that I would go home and take another test finally set me off. Because that's how the ectopic started. Spotting and shit, and one more test to be sure, only it was positive. And when I thought - oh, shit, this could all happen all over again, I lost it.
I would have started rocking in a corner if I could have done so without being seen.
I think if my period had come on time, or a day early, I would have been disappointed, but I still pretty level headed. The fact that it's coming three whole fucking days early is fucking with my head. Because while it's probably just my body sorting itself out - given that the last full normal cycle I had was in fucking July - I don't know. And the ever present fears about not being able to get pregnant again or carry a pregnancy to term were overwhelming.
Combine it all together and see someone less well prepared or knowledgable or trying for less time announcing a pregnancy and I was gone. It's not bitterness so much today, or even anger, as a sense of failure. I mean, ffs. People get pregnant all the time. Even on birth control. They make babies easily and birth them and stuff. Why can't I do that? My God, teenagers and fucking crackwhores have an easier time getting pregnant and staying pregnant and having healthy children, what the everloving fuck am I doing wrong? What is wrong with me that I can't do these things?
And then I tried to cheer myself up and think positively, and that may as well have been a long drive off a short pier into crazy waters. Because then, in addition to being bewildered, sad, frustrated, I was fucking mad. I DON'T WANT TO BE REASONABLE OR LOGICAL OR ANYTHING BUT PREGNANT. I don't want to give myself a pep talk on how this will take us further towards independence from debt or give me a chance to lose weight or get into an exercise routine or clean the house or be 100% safe on the metho shit. I don't want to look for the silver lining or entertain hope anymore. Because what is the fucking purpose? It only makes it hurt worse when the pain (inevitably) comes. And I am not Susy Fucking Sunshine standing in the rain, shivering, and saying with a weak smile how much I'd wanted to feel refreshed on such a warm day. I want to be angry and sad and I think I've a right to be angry and sad.
This all poured out in a couple of avenues and I didn't intend it to be here at all, because I've been trying to keep a cap on the crazy here, and then I drove home, ranting and raving at my poor husband and finally I popped in an old cd and thank God Grover has a cd player. Charlie only had a tape deck and I can't tell you how amazing it feels to put on angry music, crank it the fuck up and SCREAM to it.
Quite liberating, really. And this wasn't the most angry music I have, it was a lot of pep and upbeat notes which was great, because I felt 200% better afterwards. We got home, I peed in a cup (also a relief) and the test? Was negative.
Thank God. I was truly freaked out over that and while I'm still pissed as fuck that my period will be arriving tonight or tomorrow, I can live with it. It's not an ectopic? I can live with disappointment, so long as I don't have to live that hell again for the next three months.
I'm still pissed off that I'm not getting laid tonight. I am getting Chinese food though, and that's good (not nearly as good as a good fuck, but eh, close enough for now, I suppose).