Well I did a full hour of the castor oil pack last night, I took an epsom salt bath AND…Drum Roll Please…I slept through the ENTIRE night!! (Wild Applause and cheering) I know, I can’t believe it either. I woke up when my alarm went off. Husband was already gone. I didn’t even hear him getting ready. That NEVER happens. His snoring didn’t wake me. That NEVER NEVER happens.
I was able to get up a little bit better than I recently have been. Meaning I didn’t lay around and moan and groan and promise anything in the world to just be able to stay in bed and sleep.
I went to the gym even though my cramps and lower back are still buggin, though not as bad as they were yesterday. I managed to accomplish two miles before I couldn’t do it anymore. Not quite the 4 a day I was aiming for, but at this point something is better than nothing.
I went to Henry’s Marketplace, which has turned into a Sprouts since the last time I was in the Henry’s in this town. Quite upsetting. They didn’t have white balsamic and tried to pawn white wine vinegar off on me, as if that would do the trick. (I really don’t know how to cook and would’ve fell for it had it not been for Chef Google telling me not to, don’t be fooled).
I am anxious for my doctor appointment tomorrow. I need some relief. It’s only 12:56, I can’t leave here until 2:30, and really all I can think about is going home and pulling the blankets up over my head. I
don’t like despise this new me. It is definately not a new and improved me. It is a yucky, feels like crap and I don’t like it new me. The new me has a constant stomach ache and heavy eye-lids. The new me never feels good. The new me can’t concentrate. The new me can’t wait until its dark outside so that I can get into bed. The new me blames me for the miscarriage and for not being able to get pregnant, although the OLD me is logical and knows that the real problem is more the male factor part of it. New me keeps telling OLD me that the miscarriage wasnt because of a random chromosomal abnormality, but because of either a sperm issue that we can never overcome or because I have an evil uterus. Take your pick. New me is mean and likes to mess with OLD me’s head. New me likes to picture my unterine cavity as a treacherous place filled with land-mine like lesions and inflammation and smoke-like negative prostaglandins that are just waiting to swirl around and surround and suffocate any embryo brave enough to enter. New me keeps telling OLD me that IVF #1 was my one shot, that nothing else, no other try is going to work. New me thinks that if it didn’t work on the first try, its not going to work at all.
This is no way to live. The new me can suck it. The OLD me is in there somewhere and is FIGHTING to come back out and kick new me’s ass. The OLD me just needs a little help because new me has wrapped OLD me up and is smothering OLD me with a thick, heavy black blanket. But hopefully, with a little help, OLD me is going to make new me it’s bitch.