Archives for posts with tag: BFN

Warning: This blog post will be filled with wallowing, self-pity, and other miseries.

I peed on a stick when I got home from school today. I figured if I got the inevitable out of the way, then at least I could stop taking those stupid suppositories. Guess what I won’t have the pleasure of shoving up the ol’ girl tonight?

Obviously, the test was negative.

I realize in previous, more positive posts I said this would be a cycle with a positive outcome of either pregnancy or further healing, but that’s kind of a pile of shit to me right now. I failed. Again. My body sucks effing balls, and is completely incapable of doing what it’s supposed to as a woman. I kind of hate everything right now.

I said to J the other night that I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this. The emotional toil it’s taking is brutal. Would throwing in the towel be any easier, though? That’s total admission of failure, and acceptance that I have zero control over this decision, and I don’t know how well I can tolerate that, either.

I’m sick of crying, I’m sick of feeling so jealous of everyone I see who’s pregnant and whose bodies have figured out how to do all of this, I’m sick of not getting any closer to where we want to be. And it’s all me. J could make beautiful babies elsewhere, and while that’s not something I’m even the remote bit concerned about, it compounds the sadness I feel by about a bazillion percent, as the blame rests all with me. My body won’t do this.

-Always Regular Van.

So chalk this month up as another failed month of baby-making. I went for my blood test today after doing two cheapie POSs, so I had a hunch I was still Regular Van.

It was slightly less heartbreaking this time, and I don’t have a trail of mascara streaks on my sweater like I did last month.

I feel resigned. I feel resigned to a feeling that this isn’t going to happen for us, and it’s a feeling that’s growing stronger. I’ve had a few occasions these past few weeks when I stopped to think about what we’re doing here with all this baby stuff, and the thought of me pregnant seemed so ridiculous to me. I can’t shake this feeling like this isn’t going to be a part of my reality. I sound melodramatic, I know (it’s been 2 rounds of IUI, I need to get over myself), but I don’t feel like I’m being dramatic. I feel kind of calm about it…I can’t explain.

At the same time, though, I feel overcome with this massive sense of guilt, like maybe it’s my mindset that’s at fault. Maybe if I was more positive or could imagine myself pregnant, then magically I somehow would be.

I’m resigned to feeling like things are a bit hopeless right now, but I’m more at peace with that then I thought I would be. At this stage, I often feel more frustrated that I can’t DO this thing (getting pregnant) more than I am frustrated by the significance behind being pregnant.

Maybe I don’t want it badly enough, but maybe I’m not allowing myself to want it enough because somewhere inside me I have this feeling, this knowing, that more than just maybe this isn’t going to happen for us.

I’m running out of fight.

-Just Regular Van.

And I’ve never cried so much or so hard in my life.

I know it could be worse, I know there are those in our IF community who are suffering so much more.

I am filled with anger and frustration and just sadness that so many of us good, good people have to deal with all of this bullshit while other people who are (frankly) undeserving will never experience any of this heartache. We deserve this, and it fucking sucks that we can’t experience it.

-Such a sad Regular Van.