The Last Thing I Want is a Cheerleader

I know you may not get that.

You don't have to "get" that. This isn't about YOU.

All you have to do is understand that you are not ME and that I know ME better than you know me.

I am not even close to lying or looking for attention.

I DO NOT WANT OR NEED A CHEERLEADER!

Keep your pom poms, spirit fingers and cartwheels the hell away from me at all times.

We found the courage to try this month. We went for it. The whole process what a hot mess. If I had checked into my doctor's office every time I was there in February you would have thought I was joking. Sometimes three times a week, other times more. I got stuck with needles four times in one week. I had 5 transvaginal ultrasounds. We tracked my ovulation: first thinking it had happened so early that we missed it, but then realizing it wasn't even close to happening and end up occurring oddly late. I took 100mgs of progesterone in a vaginal suppository (yes it's a mess), that in just 18 hours had me acting like such an emotional disaster area that I had hot tears running down my face while my 2.5 year old rubbed my back out of concern in reaction to someone I barely know's facebook status. (I seriously wish I were joking about that). Then I got bloodwork back and 100mgs was not enough so I got to double it. 200mgs of progesterone is more than any single body can handle, I am convinced of it. My side effects of 200mgs of progesterone included, but are not limited to: bloating, nausea, vomiting, fatigue, insomnia (yes both at the same time!), breast tenderness, nipple sensitivity, acne, depression, violent fits of rage, intense moments of hunger, and food aversion (yes at the same time). In short, I felt really fucking pregnant.

After 2 weeks on 200 mgs of progesterone, I went for my blood test.  Texted my husband before I went in and said, "just to have it on the record, I think I am pregnant".

I am not.

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKK!

So I get to stop the progesterone for a moment, let my period arrive and call them on cycle day 1 to do the entire thing all the fuck over again.

Jane, you sound a little pissed off...

Fuck yes I am fucking pissed the fuck off. Fuck yes I am.

What tops it for me is how many people I feel I have disappointed by not being pregnant this month. Husband, daughter, doctors, nurses, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, friends....

You may read that and think, "jane, don't be ridiculous...". I read that reaction as judgement and you are not me. You have not walked this floor for what is now a full calendar year. You don't know how it feels to have all your hopes and dreams on the line every month and know that is all up to your stupid betraying body to make it happen. It's like staring down the barrel of a gun and sometimes the stress of it makes me wonder if it wouldn't just be a release if the gun just fired (that is not a suicide note, it's a metaphor). To do this every month while hopped up on hormones is cruel punishment to my daughter and my husband but I have to say, it is also a wicked punishment to me. I'm the one on the drugs and yet I am supposed to light up at a "whoopsie" pregnancy announcement on facebook and carry on with all our normal routines like I am not a fucking basketcase.

When you try to tell me that you feel confident in this process for me; that you just know I will get pregnant and it will stick and my family will grow if I just stay positive, it makes me want to strangle you violently. I know you are trying to be helpful. I know you want me to feel the excitement of procreation and hopeful possibility but the reality of my situation is that it has all be robbed of me. I will not find out I am pregnant and do a dance of joy. As soon as that test reads positive, I am in the danger zone. When you tell me things will be fine if I am positive about it and try not to worry, I get pulled into a defensive stance and makes me want to argue with you because you are absolutely not allowed to tell me how I should feel for one split second of my life. I have real fears because my nightmares were realized twice in a 9 months span of time. I am worried. I want to be worried. Let me be fucking worried and be a friend and worry with me. Don't try to make me feel anything other than what I do. Please.