I’ll try not to be too graphic.
But you have been warned.
I’ve never been on any antidepressants. I’ve never been diagnosed with clinical depression. Other than my physical maladies (migraines, elevated blood pressure, kidney stones and Diabetes), my mentality has remained the same.
The sun is shining, and it feels that spring has finally decided to return to here on the Eastern hemisphere. I have a home, a husband who loves me, friends who care, a job while could pay me more helps people, and a cat who seems to tolerate me enough to sleep on me. Oh, and our third-floor pinabayaan kaibigan (I’ll leave it to you translate. It’s the kindest words I can think of. Also, I may or may not have switched the words. My Tagalog should be better than it is. But my reasons should be discussed in another post.) is finally moving out.
But I feel listless, aimless, and whatever -less word you want to insert here. And although I want to sit in the sunshine and listen to the world pass by, I can think of nothing else that would bring me much joy…except for perhaps taking a nap. I’ve done the introductory search for depression. I fit none of it. Of course, it won’t stop me from discussing this with my therapist next week – or whenever, I see her next. I don’t remember.
Of course, the most obvious answer could be because of my body’s latest failure to keep an embryo for longer than a few days. (Here’s where I get graphic. If blood and a woman’s monthly processes sickens you, well, there’s the door. By the way, not to get on a soapbox or anything, but this shit happens monthly.) It didn’t seem exactly real to me until my period started on Saturday. I could go into details but I knew as soon as I sneezed and felt the wetness that this was something different. And I was correct. This couldn’t have been anything else than the embryo that I just
It didn’t seem exactly real to me until my period started on Saturday. Up until then, I was tired, had a mild headache, I was nauseous, and my boobs hurt. It hadn’t happened so early with my previous three tries, but I also told myself that it could be a side effect and not really what I thought it was. I could go into details, but I knew as soon as I sneezed and felt the wetness that this was something different. And I was correct. This couldn’t have been anything else than the embryo that I just
I could go into even more graphic details, but I knew as soon as I sneezed and felt the wetness that this was something different. And I was correct. This couldn’t have been anything else than the embryo that I just sneezed out.
Stay with me a moment.
I know that you can’t sneeze out an embryo. They tell you that at the transfer. Your body knows to hang out to the embryo. I watched as my body absorbed it – Thanks, modern technology – and I knew that there were only two ways that it would come out: as a baby or through blood and early on. I sat there staring at the tissue. I know that you can’t see anything. But if that embryo is not viable and if that embryo is surrounded by mucous and old blood -Those of you who have been through IVF know *exactly* what I am talking about. Old blood looks nothing like fresh blood. – Surrounded by a thin layer of fresh blood, then it can be nothing else but…After that was business as usual for my body. Oh, you’re not pregnant this month? Congrats! Here we go, shedding the lining of your uterus! You’re welcome.
Shut the fuck up, body. I *wanted* that embryo to stick.
I’m sorry. I’m not exactly sure what I wanted to say.
Last Friday a group of us went to see Batman v. Superman. It was better than I expected but then again, my expectations were very low. I’m not particularly excited about the upcoming Batman movie, but I am *super* excited about the Wonder Woman movie.
(Bear with me. This does tie in with what I wrote up above.)
While I was happy to be with my friends, I was also super annoyed with them. And then I got super annoyed with myself for being super annoyed with them. And then I realized that I wasn’t annoyed at all but needed the downtime in between coming home from my job and immediately going back out for this event.
I hadn’t had enough time to recharge and to be introverted and shy (before you ask, being introverted doesn’t automatically mean that you are shy – another post, I promise.) that’s super important. I had to go, go, go until my husband and I came home at around 12:30 am.
Sunday we went to help a friend rip her carpets out of her new/old house. Unless you live in the suburbs, all the houses in my city are old. I placed myself at the stairwell to pull out the tacks, staples, and nails. I was working by myself while the others paired off or worked in groups. I was fine working by myself, pulling things out but just reinforced that I hadn’t had enough time to myself.
I hadn’t (haven’t) given myself time to mourn. I know that it wasn’t a baby, per se (though there are many who would argue otherwise) but I mourn the possibility. I rage at the unfairness of it. I’m angry that it seems so easy for others. I talked with my RE and she suggested that it might be time to use donor eggs. I’m hesitant to do this. I might come around. One day. We also talked about adoption.
We also talked about adoption. That takes time as well and to be fair that’s understandable. You don’t want the prospective parents to be assholes. Ideally, I would like to adopt from my parents home country. There are several roadblocks in our way. The first and foremost being is that we aren’t practicing Christians. Hell, we don’t practice anything. It makes me mad actually. And there’s no getting around that requirement. Most places I’ve researched ask for five years with a diocese.
Again, I don’t know where I’m going with this.
Just ignore me. I’m sure the hormones will wear off and I’ll pick myself up again and continue on with my life.