Temp went down to 96.8.
Fertility signs not as apparent as yesterday - ie, might be drying up - but still wet fluid and high (if not soft) cervix.
I'm so done. I'm so pissed. I'm so sad. It is playing out almost exactly like last September did. Anovulatory with tons of ewcm and sex and nada. Then an ovulatory cycle in which I got pregnant and lost the baby.
I am fucking terrified it's happening again. To the point that I am deliberating on whether or not we want to keep trying or take a break for a few cycles. I don't think I could do that, but trying again after an anovulatory cycle scares me more than trying early after the methotrexate did.
The amount of self-loathing I feel right now is incredible. A part of me is standing back and watching the rest of me and is shocked by the thoughts I've been having. All I can come up with is that this whole thing is my body fucking up again. One giant fuck up. And it's all probably due to the fact that I am so fat. And because of that, I just keep screaming inside my head. It's awful.
I hate myself so much right now. This is something that is so easy for most of the world that they don't ever think about half the stuff I'm doing to try and get pregnant. They don't have to worry about m/c in the way I do, or about how many tests and procedures will be done before I'm even 8 weeks pregnant. Why is this so fucking hard for me?
All I've wanted with certainty in my life was to be a mother. It's the one thing I've been absolutely sure of and the one thing that has been a constant desire. And it's been snatched away from me twice now. I want to scream and cry and shout my anger at the universe. I can't, so I guess I hate myself instead. And in the end, it's my failure anyway.
June will be here in 6 weeks. I never once thought after losing Chickadee that I might not be in a well established, healthy pregnancy by the point I came to the edd. I figured it would be a tough day, but that I would be able to take comfort in looking forward to the new baby that was growing in me. And now. . . nothing. I don't know if I'll have another chance.
There are times I am so seethingly jealous of my friends. I was the first in a large number of people to lose their baby, and I'm the only one who is not pregnant with a healthy baby again. There are moments I just want to sob in despair at everything.
I can't handle much more of this.
Following this mini-breakdown and some tears and wailing, DH and I have talked and we have a plan.
We've had sex today and we'll have sex tomorrow and then we are done. It is possible that I ovulated yesterday or the day before and this is a low temp (in fact, it's right on the coverline if I ovulated in the past 2 days). Since we didn't have sex last night, today and tomorrow will ensure high probability of conception if I have ovulated between cd24 and cd 27. If I have not, well, that is one hell of a late ovulation and that is what I am avoiding. If it's anovulatory, then all the sex in the world doesn't matter and I want sex to be solely about enjoyment, shared pleasure and fun and love and while the act itself has been enjoyable, these last few times, that's about it. We need a break.
We'll deal with a possible anovulatory cycle and it's aftermath when we get there and not today.
We ordered lunch and dinner and it should be delivered soon and we may go see State of Play, as we've both wanted to see it.
I took a long, hot shower and washed my hair (which I haven't done since last weekend - it's not as gross as it sounds as I only wash it twice a week anyway and this week was testing the theory that baby powder would eliminate excess oil, and it worked) and shaved and I feel about a thousand times better than I did earlier. Amazing how cleanliness can improve one's outlook on life.
I have a wonderful, supportive, loving husband who is willing to not only put up with the crazy, but embrace it and hold me and bring me back from the ledge and I am eternally grateful for that.