Maybe the month of May

Temp was way down this morning - 96.94. I knew for sure that it was over, then. And figured that was at least a good sign that the cyst I'm convinced I had was calming down. Sure enough, before I left for work the spotting turned into ... well, not flow... but heavy spotting, anyway.

Got to work at 1:30 and a couple of hours later, the cramps set in.

I'm still not having what I'd call a normal period, but I've yet to have what I'd call a normal period while on Clomid. It didn't really turn into something I'd call a real flow until it was too late to call the doctor. So I guess I call early Monday morning and make them call the next round of Clomid in to the pharmacy. Depending how you count day 1, that'll be day 3 or 4.
I think I'll start the pills Monday night.

My old R.E. had me taking the Clomid CD3-7. My current GYN prefers 5-9. I read an article a while back that says that those taking it 5-9 has twice the miscarriage rate as 3-7. Plus I never had this cyst/lateness when I was on 3-7, so I tend to prefer that.

David and I layed and talked a long time last night. I was very upset and feeling very alone. I told him about how unfair it was and how sick of everything I am.

It's funny. We're trying so hard to have a baby, but I'm SO SICK OF TALKING ABOUT BABIES. It seems like I'm surrounded by them - pregnant women and newborns and parents. And they all want to talk about their babies.

Completely reasonable, of course. And when I finally manage to have a baby, I'll want to do the same. But for now, it just seems like if I want to take a minute to think about something else, there's nowhere to turn. I know it's part reality and part my own perception. But wow, it's exhausting.

The resentment has faded. I really don't feel that burning jealousy that I felt for a while. I think God and I have worked through that. But I still feel so sad. So angry at my own circumstances.
Even at David, sometimes.

It seems so unfair. He tried to suggest I take a few days off. I had to explain that if I take a few days off, I risk missing a symptom that could be important. I miss a temperature shift or something I'll want to know later. So I have to take my temperature, pee on sticks, analyze every twinge, take pills, and probe my vagina every day.

I told him how it feels when he has nothing to say. As though he doesn't care, doesn't take an interest. When he scowls at me if I tell him I'm jealous, I feel even worse.

He tells me that he does care. But that all he can do is wait-and-see. He tells me I just need to relax.

How exactly is that possible? He can turn his mind off and wait for me to tell him to do his business in a cup. And then wait for me to tell him I'm pregnant or not. I'm the one with swollen ovaries. I'm the one trying to determine if the OPK is the exact right shade to be positive. I'm the one running to the bathroom every hour to check for blood. I'm a woman. I don't have the luxury of relaxing.

I think he finally seemed to sort of get it. He held me. He's a good man and a good husband. Just shutting up and listening without judgement was a lot. And today I feel a little better, emotionally.

I'm just ready to get on with it. Aunt Flow is here as I wished. Now I wish her away and wait for ovulation. Such is the cycle of infertility. Just when you think you can't go on. Hope says "maybe May is our Month..."