Fuck.

So, if you're stalking me, you can take a break.

Three days of spotting, another BFFN, and lots and lots and lots of crying later, my period finally decided to show this morning.

I called the clinic to schedule my surgery, but since today was the day my work schedule came out, it was too late to schedule anything this month without missing several days of work and possibly getting suspended for three days due to occurrences. (I'd like to rant about how effing unfair this is, but there just isn't time or space here today.)

For the first time since... March, I think? we're going to be on an unmedicated, un-monitored cycle. No dildocam, no bloodwork, no medication, no injections. Just relaxing. Or something like that.

Monday is what should have been my due date. So, while I usually take the failed cycles pretty well, this one has really hit me hard. I've been crying at random intervals since I started spotting. And then I get mad that I'm crying. And then I'm sad that I even need to be mad at myself for being sad. And then I remember that in some other alternate universe I'm supposed to be getting ready to have my baby and my whole world breaks.

How is it possible that nine months after my loss, six medicated cycles, three IUI's, I'm not pregnant? Even my doctor can't explain it. I hate this. Am I missing something? Is there some big, cosmic lesson I should be learning?


BoyWonder and I have been talking a lot about what the new plan is. Nothing is set in stone just yet, but as of right now, we're thinking that if we do this surgery and they don't find anything, we're probably going to be done trying. Or, at least done with the fertility clinic. If they don't find us, we'll probably be labeled as 'unexplained infertility,' even though we both have very mild infertility diagnoses. As of right now, our doctor can't give us a reason that the treatments haven't worked.

It's weird to think about going in for testing and hoping they find something. Really, really strange to think "I really hope my uterus is full of tumors or endometriosis," because at least we'll have an answer. Something. Because having your doctor tell you "I have no idea why this hasn't worked. It doesn't make any sense to me," kind of feels like a slap in the face. Like the Universe is punishing us.

Sorry, folks. I'm really whiny and down on myself today. And it will probably be like this for at least the next few days.

Also... This weekend is the bluegrass festival. You know, the one I go to every.single.year. Except today is the first day of my period, and it's raining. And cold. I'm staying home today, because I can't think of a single thing more awful than walking in the cold rain to change my tampon in a port-a-potty that's been used by drunken hippies all week (and yes, most years I am one of those drunken hippies... but that's beside the point). I might go tomorrow, if the sun is out. But I'm scared of possibly having some kind of crying freakout in front of a bunch of people who I really enjoy spending time with, but don't know all that well.

But maybe, just maybe, it will be healing. Maybe it will distract me. Maybe, for a couple of days, I'll forget that my body is a traitor and cannot be trusted to function properly. Maybe, for a minute, I can find some peace.