Ain’t No Sunshine

I told Monkito today that I think I am depressed.  “Yeah, I think you are,” she said, eyeing me warily from the passenger seat.  She refers to me as “the backbone of this operation.”  When I feel flat, or teary in this instance, things do seem to go a bit haywire around the house.  So, I understand her concern.

The problem is this (I think): Folks that know that we are trying to get pregnant are quick to reassure me that things will work out.  They just take time.  And, on one hand, I believe that.

On the other hand, what I feared about this process has turned out to be true:  it is a huge drain, financially and emotionally.  I feel isolated.  And envious of those who have children.  I feel like no one understands what this is like. And, as melodramatic as it seems, I feel like no one cares.  No one asks how I am handling the disappointment.  Or the constant trips to the doctor.  Or the fear that all of this is for nothing and that it will be years before we have a child.

I am sad.  I am frustrated.  I don’t know what to do.

I finally cried today, because the doctor said that I couldn’t have a medication delivered to their office… just one more ridiculous bump in the road that they could have chosen to make easier. But my convenience has never been all that important to them.  Nor has the fact that I am a teacher, and I can’t cancel classes whenever I need to pop in for a sonogram or an insemination… their schedule is set, and they will not work around mine.  Fuck.  Seriously.  I just want someone to swoop in to make part of this easier.

I realize that no one said this would be an easy process.  And, until now, I haven’t really complained.  Not through the four IUIs … or the three cycles on Clomid when we didn’t even get to inseminate for one reason or another… or the surgery… or the two subsequent IUIs on fertility meds.

But now I am complaining.  This process is joyless.  It is lonely.  And it feels so desperate.  This fucking sucks.

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