Too Much.

October 8, 2012 at 8:31 am | Posted in another cycle! (aka: deja vu), Mythical #2 | 21 Comments

All the progress I have made, emotionally, up to this point?

Is currently null and void.

I feel like I am one step away from a complete breakdown.

Saturday night I completely lost it on Charlie Brown when he said to me, in a moment of anger, after I snapped at him: I am sorry you’re having a bad night, but…

Absolutely. Lost it. I smashed a plastic bowl, I was so angry. I screamed so loudly I was hoarse in minutes.

I am not holding it together very well.

My brother called my mother this weekend – he told me her excuse for hanging up on me was a defiant blame game. I was disrespectful, so that’s why she hung up on me.

Doesn’t matter that pretty much EVERYONE agrees with me. At least my brother and sister do, and they appreciate me for calling mom out on her selfishness. Which, on Thursday night, made me feel better.

This weekend, it doesn’t matter. It will never matter. I’m wrong. My mother is right. This is the way it’s always been.

And right now, I am so angry with her I don’t even know what to do. And I loathe myself for being so upset. I am 36 years old, a career and house and child of my own, and somehow my mother is still fucking calling the shots.

I’m done with allowing her to feel badly about myself, and I want to scream at her and sever our relationship with the bitter truth – that I’m sick of her shit and I never want to see her or hear from her ever again.

This is the culmination of years of baggage between us, clearly. And I need to figure out if that’s really the right choice before I say those words.

______________________

Combine it with the blood, and the (un)certainty that this pregnancy is over.

Again.

Well, it’s just too much for me right now.

Saturday I spotted all day. Brown. Didn’t really even fill a pantyliner. But it was enough. It’s what I get when I’m getting my period – two days before the real AF I get this kind of spotting. It’s over, and my body wants to bleed. Whatever happened in my uterus to kill this particular embryo, it happened a couple of days ago, and great betas doesn’t mean fucking ANYTHING, because right now it’s over.

But the bleeding was killing me. Slowly. So for the past two days I’ve used leftover crinone yesterday during the day AND increased my PIO to 1.5cc at night. Which, of course, stopped the bleeding. Nothing on the pantyliner now, nothing when I wipe.

It’s not going to MATTER, you see. On Tuesday, it’s likely I’ll hear the news that this all stopped sometime last week.

My clinic called me Sunday morning with an offer of a beta. But the offer was caveated that I’d go back in on Tuesday – for a Rhogam shot. I didn’t really understand that – both Charlie and I are RH negative. To which the doctor said, Yes, that shouldn’t make an issue, but we like to be conservative.

What that means? They have no idea what’s going on, but they think my body’s trying to kill off the embryos, too.

I thought about it, long and hard, and asked questions. And what it came down to is that I honestly didn’t want to drive all the hell the way into Boston to get my blood drawn if the answer was still going to be continue your meds and come back in on Tuesday.

I just couldn’t deal with it.

So I opted to wait.

And here I am, the day before. And truthfully, I am terrified to go in for this ultrasound tomorrow. Because as awful as this uncertainty is, right now, I am still pregnant. Even though emotionally and mentally I am pretty sure it’s over, no one has said the words to confirm it.

My “symptoms” – the ones that lessened last week – are back, you see. And I’m now seeing that it’s merely a function of the progesterone. Double the progesterone, and oh HEY! It all comes back.

Except, you know, I can pretend there’s hope. Hey, symptoms! No blood! It’s not over, there’s PLENTY of hope!

It’s such a mindfuck, this whole thing.

I wanted this pregnancy.

I wanted this baby.

At the end of the day, what I want doesn’t fucking matter.

That, apparently, is the story of my life.

Yay me.