Bah Humbug

I would first like to say that I am a Christmas whore.

I loooooove Christmas.

I am one of those people that starts listening to the ever-corny Christmas music the very day after Thanksgiving. I will even admit that my obsession with this overly commercial holiday goes as far as I start planning how I will decorate our house as early as Halloween.

Because shortly after Christmas comes New Years, and who doesn't love New Year's Eve?

And right after New Year's Eve comes my birthday. Which is obviously the highlight of my year.

I usually spend the week leading up to Christmas singing songs, wearing red and green, cheerfully wrapping gifts and baking yummy treats. And I love to shop, so Christmas shopping has never been an annoyance. I gladly brave the packed parking lots and long lines because I truly love to buy gifts for my loved ones.

This year just feels so different. Don't get me wrong here, I am still enjoying seeing family and giving the gifts I have purchased. Except everything else was such a pain in the ass this year.

My heart just isn't in it. And I can't help but wonder if that pesky date conviently sandwiched between New Year's and my birthday is to blame...

Jan 5th.

Fuck that day. I have been dreading it for almost 9 months now. And here it is, just in time to ruin the holidays.

Christmas cards make me wanna barf, yet I sent them anyway. Complete with a picture of my two dogs, because face it people I have no kids.

Shopping this year ranked slightly above sticking a fork into my eyeball.

Work Secret Santa...I got the poor chick a bottle of vodka and a redbull.
I kid you not.
And I will share my thought process on picking this gift out. I said to myself, "Self, what would you want from the work secret santa?"
Bottle of vodka was the first thing that came to mind.

Christmas cookies...I made them but only because stuffing my face is a priority these days. I am working to ensure that none of the clothes I get for Christmas fit.

And don't even get me started on wrapping all those fucking gifts. OMG pain in the ass.

So, faithful blog readers, I am officially over Christmas.

The only positive thing I can come up with is that it is in fact a indication that this suck ass year is almost over.

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also I hate that CBEFM.

I don't even think I ovulated this cycle. Which is just fan-fucking-tastic.

I am right on schedule to get my period on Jan 1st.

Whiskey.Tango.Foxtrot?

FML

Still here

I'm still here in the 2ww. I am debating on whether to test on Thanksgiving.

My original plan was to wait until the CBEFM tells me I am late, and then I would test.

I don't like that plan anymore.

I am impatient.

I want to test on Thursday. I have good vibes about this cycle for some strange reason. I will be approx. 9-10 DPO on Thursday.

WWYD?

And so it begins...

the dreaded 2ww.

That's right folks, I peed on my nifty little stick today and stuck it in the CBEFM and ta da! My fertile phase is over.

I really loathe this part of my cycle. I have come to realize that almost every symptom of pregnancy, short of two lines of course, and every symptom of AF are pretty much the same. The exhaustion, the pimples, the headaches, and just plain feeling like shit.

I put zero stock in symptoms. Which, for me is a healthy development. I refuse to even entertain the idea that I could be pregnant until I see those two little magic lines.

But, you see, that's the part of this that makes the 2ww the little whore she is. She uses her alluring trickery to fool you into thinking you have a chance.

But in reality, I do have a chance. A pretty good one. And thanks to the CBEFM, Mr. Rootbeer and I have had sex every night for the past 10 days. So, I'm thinkin our chances are pretty good. We will see.

Mr. Fix-It

Well here we are again. I haven't blogged in a while mainly because I haven't really had anything new to say. We are still trying to get pregnant, and I am still not pregnant. I am still having a hard time with all of this. I am trying so damn hard to be positive but it is more and more difficult every month.

Today is most likely CD 28 and I am probably 13 DPO. I say "most likely" and "probably" because I didn't chart or use OPKs or anything again.

I have been hearing things like "Just relax and it will happen," or "it will happen as soon as you stop trying" for about a year now. Both are among my most hated phrases.

I took the last two cycles to "relax" and "let it happen."

But guess what, it didn't.

I spotted yesterday, and again today. Which is a clue that AF is hiding right around the corner. Waiting to pop out and remind me that I am not pregnant yet again.

A few months ago I would have still had hope at this point. I would have said to myself, "self, you're not bleeding yet. Some women spot when they are pregnant." But I am fresh out of hopeful pep talks for myself. And frankly, I am annoyed by the ones I get from others. Even from people I love most.

The two people closest to me in my life are Mr. Rootbeer and my Dad. I am incredibly close to my father and I always have been. He knows more about me than anyone and we talk about everything.

My Dad is Mr. Fix-It. He always has been. He can fix ANYTHING. I never had to worry if something broke, I would bring it to Dad and he would fix it, no matter what it was. In fact, when I was 11 my pet cockatiel Prissy had an unfortunate accident with a ceiling fan. She broke her beak and I remember picking her up and carrying her over to my Dad and saying, "fix her Daddy." He did.

And when I met Mr. Rootbeer I noticed the same quality. Mr. Rootbeer can fix anything as well. I don't think I could have married a man who couldn't. I break things a lot and it's comforting to have a man around that can make everything right again.

Well, I have been feeling pretty broken lately. It has been over a year since Mr. Rootbeer and I started TTC. I am disappointed and discouraged every month when I start to bleed. It breaks my heart into pieces all over again, and it seems to get worse every cycle.

This month has been the worst so far. It's not about the miscarriage anymore. It is about the fact that I have tried everything in my power to get pregnant and FAILED over and over again. Getting pregnant is the most basic and natural function of the female body. And I can't seem to hack it.

I was overly optimistic about this cycle. My breats have been very sore. I have been bloated, and breaking out very bad. I actually thought we might have finally succeeded.

Yesterday I ran home and into the bathroom and I looked down and saw pink. I closed my eyes and starting saying "no no no no." I prayed. I actually sat on my toilet and prayed for God to make the blood go away and replace it with a positive pregnancy test. And today when I saw more blood in my bathroom at work, I lost my shit. I sobbed and I felt sorry for myself.

Neither my Dad nor Mr. Rootbeer can fix this. And they have tried. They try with their words. They tell me that I will get pregnant soon. They tell me it will happen when we least expect. They remind me to be thankful for what I have. But it just makes me feel worse. Because I know they can't fix this for me.

I am still feeling sorry for myself. I don't know where to go from here. On one hand I want to call the Dr and begin testing. On the other, I want to go back on birth control and maybe regain some sanity.

I probably won't do either. I will probably just keep trying and praying.

I hate the 2ww

That's what we in "the biz" call the two week wait. The biz of trying to concieve that is. IT SUCKS. It is two torturous weeks of hell. Analyzing every symptom, questioning every little "feeling". I'm absolutely positive that it drives Mr. Rootbeer crazy. He probably thinks I'm psychotic. Maybe I am...

This cycle has been worse than the cycles that have gone before. I know it's because my chart is looking so damn pretty this cycle.

My period is due Sunday. I am keeping my fingers crossed until then.