Growing Up

There comes a time in every infertile woman's life when she has to ask herself, is what I'm feeling a side effect of these drugs, or is this psychosomatic?

Right now, for instance. It's all of 8 pm, and I am in the greatest city in the world, and I was invited out to a thing with people I like at a place I've never been before. Did I go? No, I did not. I am home, in my apartment, with a Duraflame log going in the fireplace, eating ramen.

I am also in pajamas patterned with manatees. And a giant sweatshirt. I am alone, save for the indifferent attention of my dog, who after being informed that there was not in fact anything on the landing to bark at, has retired to the bedroom to nap and sulk in turn.

The truth is, I'm fucking exhausted. Which is ridiculous, as what did I do today? I got up, on the early side, but nothing crazy. I did house stuff. I went to a meeting. I did schmooze stuff. And then I was like, I can either go to this evening thing that will obviously be fun, or I can go home, shoot up my Ganirelix and take my progesterone pills, put on my pajamas, order ramen, and spend the evening on the floor by my fireplace alone talking to no one.

And that's what I did.

Is it the drugs? Or is it psychosomatic? Am I actually exhausted, or do I just imagine that I am?

Does it matter?