'The best laid plans of mice and men gang aft agley. . .'
And such is the case here. Things aren't going at all as I'd imagined. Not that things are bad, just unpredictable.
Under the plan, we should have had sex last night. What I had not foreseen was a long work week compounded by not enough sleep (thanks Barney) with a dash of allergies thrown in making me miserable. I had a headache. A monstrous headache, that wiped me out. So we didn't have sex.
And I feel guilty. Mind you, it's early enough on that unless I ovulate tomorrow (and there are no signs of that, I assure you), it's no big deal. Still - we had a plan, and I made it break down.
But it's hard to get too worked up, because I have very few fertility signs or signs of impending ovulation. No fertile cm yet, which I find a wee bit worrisome. There are other signs that estrogen is doing what it ought - increasing amounts of on again/off again ovulatory twinges (mostly on the left), a cervix which has moved up and up and up and grown softer (though not yet more open, but that really happens right before ovulation so . . .) and as of yesterday, full ferning on the microscrope and the first signs of opks growing darker. Nowhere near positive yet, but two definite lines are appearing.
So I guess it's still ok.
But despite this, I'm feeling the anxiety mount. I do not wish to be so anxious, but I am. I think it's a general anxiety - it feels like something is in the air, like I'm waiting for something to happen - that is just directed at ttc because, well, that's the focus right now. . . But it's not fun. I'm doing my best to remain optimistic and cheerful and not let it get the better of me, and so far it's been ok. Not great, but bearable. It reminds me, though, of how life used to be before the anti-depressants and I wonder how I coped. Honestly, it is wearying and feels like a constant battle, and this is mild compared to what I used to feel on a constant basis.
It's just hard, because so much is reduced to such simple things. I want to be pregnant again. I want to be filled with hope again, with life again. I want to be moving forward, not stuck in limbo. And I can't do anything about these desires. Nothing different here. Indeed, that is part of the problem. The sameness of this life is getting on my nerves.
Which in turn makes me feel ungrateful and selfish. Because my life is not so bad - a good husband, a family that loves me, pets that are pretty awesome much of time, great friends. It's just that I still hope for more.