Category: Headfuck

I was never a girly girl. Sure I had female friends, but looking back I think we may have spent more time bitching and fighting than we ever did being friends.

I got along well with the guys. Guys are easy, they talk; they don’t talk and if they don’t talk you aren’t left stressing about WHY they aren’t talking. They rarely do the bitchy, snippy, talk behind your back and get everyone to all dislike you together thing that girls do (I say rarely, because in highschool there was one boy who would).

To be honest, I thought girls sucked. They were moody and pissy and they used to backstab and who really needs that kind of crap in your life?

This is now where all my problems lie. I can relate to blokes, I can talk to them, hell I live with one (and have lived with two who weren’t related to me previously) and we haven’t killed each other yet.

I have alot of trouble relating to women. I don’t ‘get’ it anymore and I have trouble making conversation, I can’t relate to Sex in the City, I have never had a manicure, a pedicure, a facial (although I have given one once. to a boy) or a girls night out.

I have never enjoyed shoe shopping, (love the idea of sexy shoes, the reality of finding and trying on shoes makes my head explode) I want to find clothes that fit and then leave the shop as soon as possible and I haven’t bought makeup in years (although I do need to order a new foundation).

So you see, add this all up and the idea of joining a playgroup and being social with other women has me quaking in my boots. What do I say to them? How do I relate to them? Sure we all have kids and that is a good starting point, but what then?

Blogging has been the first time I really managed to connect and relate to women and honestly, I have met some awesome women here in the blogosphere. Unfortunately all the blogging in the world does not help me overcome my fear of women.

They talk! About stuff!

I’m not really a shy person, it’s more that I get nervous and being nervous makes me loud and talkative. AND THEN, after I have been nervous and loud and talked too much, I get home and think ‘CRAP! I was nervous and loud and I talked too much and I behaved like an ass and no one will want to speak to me next week.’

So then, I go along again and I don’t talk much at all. And then people think I’m snobby because I didn’t talk much and I end up going home thinking ‘Fuck it, I should have talked more, because really, anything other than monosyllables would have been okay’.

And I can’t win.

I had a mothers group and it was awesome. The ladies in it were lovely and so were the kids, but it is just too far away for me to be able to go along anymore. And even though the ladies were so lovely, I still came home feeling like I was an ass for talking too much, too loudly, or an ass for not saying much at all, but I miss going along. I miss getting to see Amy play with other children her own age.

I can’t help but think that I am probably being selfish, letting my own issues get in the way of Amy meeting and playing with children, but I just can’t seem to get over this one.

How do you do it? How do women get along with each other?

Obviously I missed the class titled ‘Women and Friendships: A Guide’ because I am utterly fucking clueless.

And it sucks.

Shortly after I posted about my period starting, it stopped. Dead.

…and apparently, judging by how I have felt today, having a period stop, is actually a MUCH bigger headfuck than having it start.

Who knew?

I am not hopeful anymore. I am not wishing and day dreaming anymore. I am wanting to get this cycle the fuck over with so I can move on.

I just want to be finished. At the finish line, not needing to do this anymore. DONE.

And relaxing? HAHAHAHAHA. Don’t make me laugh. Unlike Nathan, I cannot turn my brain off and stop counting dates. I cannot stop thinking about it and sure as hell cannot ‘just relax’.

I cannot.

Other people may be able to turn their heads off and ‘just stop trying’ but I can’t. I don’t work like that. I like to have a plan and an idea, I like to work things out and think them through.

I had a plan dammit and that plan flew out the window months ago. Months and months and months and fucking months ago.

This is month 12 of concerted, energy draining, complete with added stress, trying.

This is month 16 of regular unprotected sex.

This is a freaking long time.

And I don’t want to muck about anymore.

So, now I am wondering if I miscalculated. If yesterday was more of the wacky spotting that I had been having a few cycles ago.

If maybe I was going to have another 42 day cycle rather than a manageable 30 day one.

Or if maybe, simply by writing about it I have jinxed it and I will wake up in a puddle at 3am (please, don’t visualise that).

I don’t want to think about any other option right now. I will leave THOSE thoughts to my insomnia at 3am.

(Also, how rude is it that I am having insomnia during the parts of the night that Amy sleeps? Hello, at least we could be awake and miserable together.)

Sigh.

Seriously, how was this so easy the first time around? (Wait, that would be because there was NO WAITING. Heh.)

I didn’t and probably never will, consider myself ‘an infertile’, simply because I feel like a bit of a fraud when I read blogs about infertility.

We conceived Amy so fast, so easily, without even really trying, that it makes me feel out of place in the infertile community when I stand back and take stock of this current situation.

We were meant to have another baby, if not born, at least on the way by now.

We were meant to be prepping Amy for big sisterhood.

We were meant to be washing itty bitty baby clothes.

However life very rarely goes as it it meant to, so we find ourselves here, still trying 12 months on.

It has been 12 months of actively trying. 12 months of counting days, observing mucus, building up hopes and coming back down to earth with a resounding thud at the end of the cycle.

Before that 12 months, there were 4 months of ‘not really trying, but hey, wouldn’t it be nice to have them this close together? Maybe we should have sex again’.

During the middle of each cycle, I forget how long we have been doing this, because every month is a chance at new hope. I have Amy to keep me busy and toddler hair to smell, a toddlers face to wash and not to mention feed. Honestly, how does she eat so much?!

The end of the month though, tends to bring defeat, sadness and a little more bitterness. Every month, a little more bitterness.

And honestly, how can I talk about bitterness without putting someone’s nose out of joint? To be honest, I don’t think my bitterness extends to the wonderful women I know and love in the interwebs. Somehow I manage to be happy for them, even if I am a little sad for me.

And it SHOULDN’T extend to the wonderful women I know and love outside of the interwebs.

No.

It is more, the swell of a belly in a girl I went to school with. Her second.

It is another girl, pregnant with her 3rd in less than 3 years.

It is being completely fine with everything until a chance comment jumps up and kicks me in the face, causing me to write crap like this.

Truly, I LIKE these women that are pregnant. I could (and have) sat and had coffee with them, laughed and talked. We have discussed our first children’s habits and laughed at toddlerisms.

I still find it inordinately hard to see them pregnant.

So I am confessing.

I am bitter. Even though I thought I would be immune from it because of Amy.

I am bitter that I can’t get a medical professional to take this seriously because ‘You conceived Amy naturally and carried her to term. You can do it again.‘ Apparently the fact that we CAN completely negates the fact that we still haven’t (and yes, I do know that THERE IS STILL TIME. I AM STILL VERY YOUNG).

I am bitter that Secondary Infertility is overlooked because Hey! They did it once already! There can’t be anything actually wrong with them.

I am bitter and it is a terrible thing to admit.

So, a new cycle is starting and I am getting all of this out of my system. I am relaxing, I am going to enjoy the trying and I am going to be very zen until my next period is due.

I hope.

———-

PS. Please, no one take this as a personal dig at you, I promise, this isn’t about anyone except myself.

Today is Cycle Day 30 (CD30, see?).

Today is 12 days (hell, sometimes even 15 days) before my period is due. I have a 42 day cycle. I have learned to live with that.

My period started today.

Fuck fuck fuckity fuckity fuck.

10 days early is very very early, so I am almost suspecting that it is more irregular spotting. That said, it is heavier than spotting, but not quite as heavy as my period yet.

It just shits me that we can’t seem to get it together. It is always one thing after another fucking with my cycles, my body, my head.

I will be going to see my GP to get a referral to a Gyno this week. I’m not entirely sure what the waiting period would be to get in, but at this stage I am prepared to wait if it means that something is getting done.

When I had my ultrasound done Monday, the sonographer saw a small blood clot, that was dislodged with all his poking and prodding. My instincts are telling me that this [bleeding] is more than just one small blood clot being passed (hey, I saw the clot. It was small, allright?).

Some part of me is worrying that what he saw may possibly have been something trying to implant, but he POKED ME and messed it up. Then my head tells me I am being stupid and that isn’t possible.

[Tell me that it isn’t possible please]

So, I am bleeding [AGAIN! cue groans] and I am cramping [AGAIN! cue groans] and my mother has been too busy to go out looking for yarrow [that the wallabies have actually nibbled to death! cue groans].

So it seems that there will be no pregnancy this month. It also seems that we may need further investigations done to find out WHAT THE FUCK is going on.

I’m thinking a semen analysis wouldn’t go astray either. Luckily Nathan agrees.

Now ‘scuse me, I am all done banging my head on the brick wall and I have a lemon and honey drink that needs sipping. Then my bed and heat pack are calling me.

Night.

PS. Any and all advice welcomed EXCEPT for comments about relaxation. I am relaxed dammit. I will be less relaxed if you tell me to be so. Also, similar stories of woe welcomed. It’s all about the solidarity.