Nope

Yesterday my last houseguest left. Now it's just L and the Ward and Puppy and me.

Late last night, as all three were asleep, I gave in to self-pity and spent some time weeping on the bathroom floor. The tiles were cool, and though I told myself I was crying because my cramps were bad, the truth is my cramps are always bad and there's nothing particularly special about it. The truth is, I was disappointed. And tired. And socially exhausted.

But mostly, disappointed.

Late

I'm three days late.

I was due Friday. It's now Monday.

On Friday, I took a pee test. It was negative.

I took another one Saturday. It malfunctioned.

I have no tests left. Til Wednesday, when a new kit arrives via Amazon, though it will probably be moot by then, as I explained to my friend J, feeling certain that nothing will bring my period on faster today than if I go to the trouble to order more tests.

Those puppies are expensive. How much have I spent on sticks to urinate on alone, in the past four years? Probably a few hundred dollars.

I feel vaguely ill-at-ease and crampy. This could, according to the internet, mean almost anything. It could as easily mean yes as it could mean my period is imminent.  Which it probably is. Right?

But even so. Three days late.

A calendar review confirms this is the latest I have been this year. In January I was two days late. There was day of, the next day, and then the day after that it came. This time I'm day of, Saturday, Sunday, and now it's Monday.

What do I want the answer to be, is the question. Hard to know. Hard to decide in the midst of so much uncertainty. Hard not to examine and over-analyze.

Symptoms

What I have:

Sore breasts
Indigestion
Mild cramping, intermittent
Mild bloating, same
One day late period
One negative pregnancy test, taken day of expected period (yesterday morning)
Mild nausea, intermittent
Anxiety (duh, near constant)
Late night heart burn
A flat tire on the car
Fifty thousand words of new novel

What I don't have:
Any idea what the deal is
A book deal
Kids

Now what?

The Ten Thousandth Facebook Baby Announcement

Not that I'm not happy for my friends. I love my friends. My friends are great and wonderful people. But I mean, God damn. Starting when we were all 30, 31, it was babies babies babies, now it's kids kids kids, a few teenagers teenagers teenagers, still more babies babies babies. It's great, but it's also hard. The boat has left, and it feels sometimes like no one cares that I'm not on it.

I haven't told many people about us trying, or my being diagnosed as unexplained, or our undergoing IF treatments. A select few. Partly because I'm very private about health stuff, partly because I was ambivalent for the first half of my thirties, right when everyone was in peak baby-having fever. I tell myself that it will be fine if I'm childfree at the end of the line. And it will be fine. But part of me will also be really, really sad. Every month is the same - I track, I time everything, I take vitamins, I wait. Then, nothing. Ever. I have never had a positive pregnancy test. Ever. It's a metronome of disappointment, and it never stops.

Most of the friends I have told about IF don't inquire how it's going, don't ask how I (we) are doing, or what we're doing. They just smile thinly and say "good luck." They've got babies and kids, all of them. I think I make them uncomfortable. Or they just don't know what to say, so they say nothing.

I understand it.

But I feel very, very alone.

This is Fucking Bullshit

And I hate it.

My boobs are killing me

And I can't tell if this is indigestion or cramps or the creature from "Alien" rooting around in my midsection.

Today is Sunday.

I pee on the stick on Thursday.

Four days to go.

And I can't tell which I want it to be.

Okay, You

Listen up, imaginary baby. I through fooling around. Okay?

You know what I've done? I've gone back on meds for my weird brain thing that might stand in your way. Done. Dealt with. I have been imaged in a way that required my whole insides to be washed out with iodine, which stings. Done. Dealt with. I have just completed a cycle of meds that in addition to making me feel like I'm wrapped in a thick layer of cotton wool, are also meant to kick my body into gear and increase the odds of you. Tomorrow morning I will go, coffee in hand, to be probed in a way I would have found horrifying a mere five years ago, but which now seems routine. They will tell me how the meds are working. Then, a few days later, I will Have a Procedure.

I'm holding up my end, kid. What's your excuse?

Get out here and start pulling your weight. GET A JOB, IMAGINARY BABY.

I've had just about enough of this foolishness from you.