Day 26

Every now and then my husband and I will be sitting around talking about this silly fertility thing and one of us (usually me, because I'm a masochist) says: What if we can't have kids?

Like, if the doctor tells us: You have no sperm. You have no uterus. You cannot naturally have a child.

My husband always says: Then I'm buying a car.

And I always say: I'll go on a trip to (fill in the blank. Usually Spain or Italy). Sometimes I say I'll get more cats. Sometimes I say I'll get a real job. Non-mommies are supposed to have real jobs, in offices. Right?

Then I'll usually ask: What about adoption? And we both kind of look at each other with a Meh look. Adoption is wonderful. Is adoption for us? We don't know until we've exhausted every option.

These conversations are all extraordinarily premature, but I like to think worst case scenario so I can prepare myself in case it really is the worst case scenario. For starters, we don't know what the problem is, and once we do know I imagine there will be options like medication, surgery, IUI, and IVF.

Which I don't even want to deal with. Part of me feels like if I can't conceive a kid completely naturally, that I don't even want to try medication and all the rest of it. Which is crazy talk, I know. But do you ever just get completely sick of even thinking about it? Sick, bitter, tired, etc.

Infertiles are always joking about their situations. Someone on Twitter the other day said something like: I should have been a teenage crack whore. The implication being that then getting pregnant would have been a piece of cake. 

I should have been Casey Anthony. I should have been the woman who lives behind me who cusses and screams at her kids every day. If I had cancer, I'd probably be able to get pregnant. If I were an alcoholic this would be a non-issue.

If you think about that stuff too long, you'll probably start feeling how I feel right now: nauseated and sad. No one ever said life was fair or easy, and actually, I specifically recall being told by various sources throughout my childhood that I wouldn't always get what I wanted and that would have to be the way things were, period.

Today is Day 26 and my period will probably show up some time in the next four days. I hurt my shoulder over the weekend and before I decided to take an ibuprofen, I remarked to my husband that pregnant women are not supposed to take ibuprofen. We agreed that I am not pregnant. No need to pee on a stick to confirm it; we just know it. I took the ibuprofen.

Day 3 of the next cycle, I'll finally be getting my blood taken. My husband will make a "donation." Part of me hopes for a diagnosis. Most of me thinks everything will come back normal. All of me is tired of thinking about it.