Update (or is it down)

So first with the good news.

My dog's paw is better. He's not quite his handsome self due to a rather large and pinkish scar on his leg - not to mention the shaved bits that haven't grown back, but all in all he seems to be returning to his doggy self. And our walks have become the usual mixture of delight and apolgetic shuffling on (he tends to get a bit snappy at certain dogs despite my best behaviour management strategies).

So dog is on the mend. First box ticked.

My dear hubby who was so unjustly fired will finish work this week. I am very proud of him as he has made the transition from righteous outrage (justified I might add) to forward looking job seeker without sinking into a trough of negativity and depression which would probably have been my option if I had gone through that. I forget that he is stronger then I think he is. I just hope that the union lawyers kick ass. I would like to see the evil people who made this decision SQUIRM. In an act of self preservation and solidarity another member of staff is leaving on the same day. For a team of 5 it now looks a bit on the nose to have 3 positions unfilled.

I'm on Day 11 of FSH and looking to be going for a few more days. Did i mention how shit my body is at responding to hormones? I am questioning why my doc did not put me on a big mamma dose of hormones. I think he is kinda conservative. I bet none of his patients ever get whatever it is you get when you're overstimulated. Anyway, not only am i responding slowly i seem to be responding poorly (for me). I've seen enough ultrasounds to know something and despite the cheesy smiles of the sonographer I know that there are a lot less eggs then last time. It feels like my body is rather unimpressed with this whole business and has decided not to cooperate any longer. I used to be the best at giving blood - but now, my little old veins give a polite "no thanks" before being held at needle point and forced into giving up their luscious flow. They bruise in protest. And my ovaries, no matter how much singing and patting, kissing (my hubby does that one - too hard for me) and coaxing, just don't seem to want to give up too many precious little eggs. I confess I have unjustly thought violent thoughts towards my ovaries after former failed cycles but I was hoping that they would be a little more forgiving.

I've noticed that it only takes me hours to detach myself from myself and speak in the third person about the me that was on the bed weeping and begging heaven to have mercy just a few hours ago. As if it was a long time ago. The old me in a different time and place. Who am I kidding?

I'm kind of sick of feeling like a dead weight around people. My friend returned from a conference in NZ yesterday and I have, in truth, not been doing all that well. I rang her up to see if she wanted to go for a walk.. and she said yes because she knows that I have not been doing all that well and then rang back and asked to postpone it as really what she needs is to sleep after being away for a long time. The only thing that bothers me in this interaction is the thought that people might feel like they need to give to me all the time..... even though I feel so desperately needy all the time...... I don't want to be a person that requires "energy" to be around. So I try and section off not-coping me and do this weird thing of talking about those times or moments as if it is another person. As if I had a really close front row seat of watching someone else go through excruciating pain and confusion. Which in a weird way is what I want. I WANT SOMEONE TO KNOW. Not just that I am having a bad Sunday but that Monday and Tuesday and Wednesday weren't very different. That even in my sleep I can't escape this because it occupies my dreams.

I dreamt I was holding a dead baby and then the babies face turned into Maya's face and I gave her mouth to mouth and she came back to life.

That one was a nice one.

I have started going to a church. I like this church. It has a lot of tradition and does a sung communion each week. I like this because there is a lot of beauty in it and I like the physicality of participating in communion. Of being on your knees, holding out your hand. Of receiving the gift of the sacraments. Of singing a response which is both haunting and uplifting.

But I loose it most weeks. It is a space where it is OK to loose it. I am sure I have cried my tears into the communal cup which is a nice metaphor in a way...... last week I lost it quite badly as my friend arrived with her new little baby girl. The one I have talked about previously. It really really does hurt to be around and no matter what self talk I use it remains a heartbreaking experience to watch someone else be a proud mum for the first time and think that the time I held my little girl in front of others was after her death. In fact, I don't even think. I. Just. Cry. and feel that deep ache inside my chest which has not really changed with time....

I am loosing hope for this cycle. It seems easier to give up hope now then to try and fan it back to life and then have a bucket of water thrown over it when I get my BFN.

Ain't that a sad thing.

post script

I just spoke to the friend who was in New Zealand and did not speak about myself in the third person rather just broke down and unapologetically hogged the space until I was in a place to stop and listen to her and how her trip was. Later I said I was looking forward to being in a place where I wasn't so needy all the time. She assured me that that was not how she saw our friendship at all.... which was nice to hear. I think I believe her.