The other day I was boasting to The Dude that this cycle of injections has not made me nearly as moody and emotionally vulnerable as the two previous times. I thought I had mastered the most bothersome of side effects, and ordained myself victorious. However, sometimes life thrives on leading us into a false sense of security. I was watching Curb Your Enthusiasm this evening and began to get teary during one scene that wasn't particularly sad nor moving. It is a comedy for god's sake, and a bloody good one at that.
Larry organised an orchestra to play in the foyer of his house for his wife's birthday, and though the scene quickly become comedic rather than touching, I was still sitting on the sofa like a big blubbering idiot. Who cries at comedies? Well, aside from unstable, sore-nippled dweeby nutjobs like myself...I suppose I should gain some solace from the fact that this time last month I cried for the duration of an episode of Pimp My Ride. Yes, the same Pimp My Ride on MTV where Xzibit (or however you spell it...let's not kid ourselves. I know how to spell it. How lame is that?) soups up some old bangers and then surprises the owner with a fancy new car that has built in DVD players and other tremendously expensive, highly complicated technological gadgets. Tragic, heart-wrenching stuff you know. Apparently.
So as not to focus too much on me being totally pathetic, I'll change the topic. The two week waiting period is up next Wednesday, though GLCP told me not to test until at least day 17, which would be Friday. I chuckled to myself when she said this, and would have every intention of testing prior to that point if need be had The Dude not been giving me the total hairy eyeball. He knows I'm a closet tester, so he likes to think he monitors me close enough at these times so I'm not resigned to stick peeing in the bathroom stalls at work. I will attempt to be disciplined, but I imagine my period will show up before the need for a test is reached anyway.
When The Dude and I were discussing the outcome of this month's IUI yesterday, he told me that if this is yet another failed cycle, he wanted me to "be good". When I asked him what this meant, he couldn't elaborate very well, and then came out with: "I just want you to realise that if it's bad news, there are two people involved in this, it's not just about you." Hmph. For a brief moment, I understood what he was saying, but then my emotions took over.
As we know the problem is with me, I don't feel like it is "our" problem. I can't fathom ever thinking of it in that way. Yes, because of my problem WE are having trouble conceiving, but that doesn't make it OUR problem. I do understand that there are two people that are disappointed when my period arrives, but I do feel as if my pain is greater, more raw. Not only do I have to deal with the frustration of still not being pregnant, but I have to cope with being the one that is letting us down. I don't want to seem as if I'm trying to quantify the emotions involved, but it is like I've got much more to lose when each month yields a negative result.
Well, perhaps it will all come up roses in the end. My mother has just informed me that she has added my plight to her prayer circle. She tried to sell me on the idea by saying, "Remember that girl I told you about that just gave birth to twins? She was added to the prayer circle right before she conceived. Three years of fertility treatment and nothing. It looks as if prayer is all it took." Shit...drugs schmugs, just whip out the bibles and bob's your uncle. The cure to infertility has arrived!