Monday, August 8, 2011

Get Out Now

I don't think men can really understand the phrase, "her clock is ticking." Because? They don't have clocks. They don't have to worry about the ONE DAY when you go from fertile to infertile. Like...last month was your last chance to get pregnant.

Today, I clicked on a blog. One of the articles was titled, "Infertile at 29."

I clicked the X in the upper right-hand corner as fast as I could.

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

The Dog Days are NOT Over

You know the song, "Dog Days are Over," by Florence and the Machine? I used to love that song, but now I think that bitch is just lying to me.

I want to have a kid. I want to leave my job behind, and be a stay at home mom. I feel ready. I have wanted kids for about two years now, pretty much straight. (You know that you have wanted kids for a long time when your baby registry under a fake name expires.) But... nope. I am so frustrated with everything. With work, with wanting kids but things not being ready... with everything. I cry or fight back tears on most days, unless I can get myself to that wonderful numb place for a day or two. And the people closest to me are sick of hearing me bitch, I'm sure.

Every month, if we do the "deed" anywhere near my ovulation time, I am obsessed with imaginary symptoms. Seriously... fun game: type any random symptom into Google, and it will come up with some poor woman wanting to know if it is an early sign of pregnancy. Cold feet, hot feet, fever, chills, bloating, weight loss, insomnia, tiredness, headaches, aversion to old fish.... anything can be a sign of pregnancy if you are hopeful enough.

And every time I'm not pregnant, I feel like an IDIOT for hoping. Seriously, I am starting to become cynical, something I never, ever was before. I'm starting to believe that hoping for something? Anything? Is stupid. Because there is nothing wonderful around the corner. Life is trudging, marching, struggling. Doing what you have to do. And having optimism is the most painful weebles-wobble way of existence. My hopes are pushed, pushed, pushed down, and somehow, when I am not paying attention to them, they spring back up without my permission, just to open themselves up for more ridicule, more pain. It's bullshit.

My best friend keeps telling me to get out of my job, because God can't want me to be so miserable. She keeps telling me to just get pregnant. She wants the best for me. My husband loves me very much, but isn't quite ready to try for a baby. I don't want to pressure him, but I will admit that I don't quite understand. But he would be the sole provider if we have kids, and he is the head of our household, so I have to do my best to respect his feelings and not push. Then, I have a good friend who I am afraid I will lose if I ever get pregnant, because she is struggling with infertility. She and I have been talking about starting a business, but I am scared to get into a joint venture with someone who might hate me for awhile if I got pregnant.

I calculate the time in my head... if I got pregnant in August, I could quit in March or April. If we wait till October to get pregnant, I can't be home full time until May or June. OH! AND... I'm not an idiot.... only magic people get pregnant their first month trying. With my "luck"? It will take another fucking two years, (no pun intended). Unless I'm already barren. Which is a possibility.

By the way, I never was sensitive about my age at all. In a few months, I turn 29. Staring down the barrel at 30. If my brother in law brings up the fact that I am a couple years older than his brand-new baby mama again, I am going to punch him in the face. As it is, I just threw my paper-clip holder at the wall, at work.

It made me feel a little bit better, but not much.