Body Betrayal

I feel devastated. Two failed attempts - I haven't even had to use a test, yet. This is so hard! I know it's only been a couple of months of serious trying... but we're both young! Healthy! What is going on here??
So now I've started the dreaded Ovulation Chart process. It's kinda gross - you have to track your cervical mucus and stuff. Never thought I'd end up doing this sort of crap. So... TV. But I don't want this to keep being failure after failure. As it is, I've now discovered my cycle is NOT regular, as I previously suspected. No, it is quite irregular, annoyingly so. And it is now averaged out at 26, rather than the text book 28 - although I've also found out now that most women range from about 24 to like... 40 days in cycle length. Up yours, textbook! Sucky, though. There's a maximum of six days where I can get pregnant, and if Adrian's little swimmers are less than willing, no baby.

So humiliating to say Its Not Working!! If I hear another "I got pregnant on the first try!", I will start strangling people. It is true what they say: the minute you start trying, it suddenly becomes hard. All those years avoiding pregnancy, and now that I want it, it's all evasive and full of trickery. TRICKERY!! All the time I think about it, all the time! I dream about being pregnant, I fantasize, I image, I wonder... I've already decided I want a water birth, picked out names, etc, etc, etc. All my dreams are based on this - I guess it's no wonder my body is crashing under all the pressure.

Eh. So we have to try harder. I'll keep you posted.
.m.

Maybe?

Possibly?
It's possible. I have to wait to find out, and it's the waiting that's excruciating. If only it was like switching on a light bulb : *Click* Pregnant. *Click* Not Pregnant. *Click* Pregnant. Every day since I got my period last month, I've been wondering if I'll ever BE pregnant. And then I wonder about the termination. Was that my one and only hope? I feel guilty about it, obviously - the words "I'm being punished" keep floating around my head. I remember my mother saying the reason she lost so many babies was because she was "being punished" for having two abortions early in life. At the time, it seemed ridiculous that a god would punish the taking of life by... taking more life. Seems counter-productive, doesn't it? But there's always been a very deep-seeded fear in my heart that... I might not be able to get pregnant. That I might not be a mother. I'm always in the process of telling myself to calm down, it's only been one month. It will take more than just one go, it always does when you're trying. Besides, I could be pregnant right now. My period isn't due until the 23rd, I've got a while to keep trying. Evil biological clocks. Evil. Impatient, demanding, desperate biological clocks. Adrian doesn't get it. He keeps telling me "don't stress! It'll happen!". But he doesn't know how it feels. This constant pressure, this constant feeling of running out of time, that one day it'll be too late, and I'll only ever be... me. There will always been that painful, aching gape in my heart. Sometimes I feel I've left it too long. I think about that baby I terminated. Lately, I've been thinking about it a lot. The only reason Adrian agreed to try for a baby - because otherwise I wouldn't have terminated the last one. Because otherwise, we'd have a baby already. I think about that a lot. And I worry.

But I'm being good this time. Trying to keep stress-free. Trying to remain calm. Eating better, sleeping better. Trying to lull this ceaseless, panicking biological clock into a quiet drowsiness. If only. Maybe this time. Truly. Maybe this time.

.m.

Thanks Sarah!

You're completely right, of course. This is a Good Idea. So good, it warrents capitals. And good thinking to have it seperate from your other blog! I tried doing this sort of thing with my My Space... but I don't like My Space. It's like shouting into a long, dark, dank well. All you hear is yourself, echoing. I like Google. It's Googly.

Stories you say?
I've been trying to write stories again for years. I just can't seem to do it anymore. Something broke in me, I think. I can't write like I used to. Now all I write is stuff about me. If I was famous, I could write a memoir and get lots of money from it. Eh.
Every time I sit down and think "I'm going to write something", I get to about... page two. Then everything before it seems so fake and melodramatic. *sigh* I wanted to be a writer since I could write. I think life broke me. Poosey.

So now I feel an instant pang of jealously for anyone who can sit down and write something. I wish I could. It used to make me feel so complete.
Ah well. You go, Sarah, you've still got the magic - run with it! Maybe if you write, it might inspire me to try (again)? I hope so. I want to be able to write like I used to. I hardly ever finished anything, though. I know I'm my own worst critic... maybe I'm too hard on myself? I never share anything, so I wouldn't know, hahaha! I've been told I write well, but I never really believe compliments. Urgh, especially from family.

Oo. My tum a-rumbles. Must chow.
Oo, and ciao!!
xxx
.m.