Cycle Day 1

I thought I was going to be okay with cycle day one this month. I really did. 

Because day one means that I am one day closer to my IUI. 

But when I started spotting yesterday and had the tell-tale twingy, crampy feeling, I was not excited because it meant that our IUI was coming fast. I was not excited at all. I was shattered again, like I am every month. Because it didn't work, despite all our best efforts. 

I was hoping (even though I never would say it out loud) that we would be the story. The story of that couple that tried and tried, signed up for some insemination, and promptly got pregnant naturally the month before fertility treatments started. 

We are not that story. Boo.

The last few cycles I have stayed blissfully detached from the process in order to shelter myself from dissappointment, but this month for some reason my hope returned. Last week, my co-worker said she had a dream that I was pregnant. Then I had a dream that I was pregnant. I haven't had a pregnancy dream in a good six months. With all of that returned hope, the fall was harder.

Needless to say, Super Bowl Sunday was not so super for me. 

The Hubby insisted that we arrive at our friends' house four hours before game time so we could help get the food ready, etc. 

I dragged my feet and dragged my feet because I couldn't bear the thought of spending eight hours with my best friend and her pregnant belly, talking about nursery decorations and her growing bump. 

I also couldn't bear to tell The Hubby why I didn't want to get there early, because normally I would have jumped at the chance to spend a day with them. He doesn't do it intentionally, but simply because he is okay with spending time with them and is dealing with their pregnancy so much better than I am, he makes me feel guilty for feeling differently.

I had a talk with my friend last week about what she should/shouldn't say around me (she brought it up-clearly she senses something). I couldn't tell her the truth  (that I would rather not see her until after she delivers) because it's not really what I want. I don't know what I want. I suppose all I wish is that I could have could go back in time and get pregnant like a normal person so I wouldn't be in the envious state in the first place, but aside from that, I don't know if anything she does/says will make it easier for me. So I told her to talk to me like she didn't know I was infertile. Obviously she can't/won't do this because she does know, but I don't feel like she should have to tip toe around me.

I said this, but then she started talking about very normal things and I wanted to punch her.

Strike One: "I am sooo afraid my feet are going to grow and I won't be able to wear my normal shoes."

Ugh. That must really suck. Maybe I don't want to get pregnant after all...

Strike Two (in response to a "what are you drinking" question: "Iced tea. But what I wouldn't give to have a Bud Light." 

What I wouldn't give to NOT be able to drink!

Strike Three: "I have had a really hard time getting used to the weight gain. I feel so fat. I have spent my life trying not to get fat and now I feel like a cow. It's really hard. I've had to go home from work a couple times because I just feel like I look horrible." (tummy rub, tummy rub).

O.M.G. I almost died. As if I wasn't sick enough of looking at her cute belly. I don't think I will ever feel like this. I will embrace every single pound of that baby weight!

Sorry for that rant. 

I completely recognize that it has everything to do with me and very little to do with what she actually said. If the situation was reversed, I would also find it very hard to be in her shoes dealing with me and worrying about talking about my pregnancy.

Anyway, despite my gloomy, gloomy mood, I am very excited for this Friday when I will get my meds!