Can I whine? Is it all right if I take time out of your busy day to just break down and bitch? Because I am at the end of my rope. And the end really isn’t all that close.
1. I hurt. I hurt all over. My back hurts because I had to spend all performing the Great Flea Eradication. I did things I’m not supposed to do: I vacuumed a lot, and moved furniture, and spent a lot of time bending over at odd angles and picking things up. So my back hurts like hell. And my legs hurt as well, which is probably just as an extension of my back pain.
My ovaries hurt. I think I’ve got another 5-6 days to go before The Harvest, and I’m already so achy I just want to cry. I’m at that point where my ovaries jolt if I take too jarring of a step, or when I sit down, or when I stand up to stretch. And I have a long way to go. And I just remembered that this will only get worse after The Harvest, at least for a week or so. And of course the cramps cause more back pain, and more leg pain. Also my feet hurt. I think they’re swollen or something. I had to take my sneakers off under my desk just to give them freedom.
2. I’m exhausted. I worked (and stressed) my ass off in July with the promise of release in August. Release in the form of sweet sweet sleep, total relaxation, and satisfaction in a job well-done. But I seem to have forgotten how to sleep. I can do it for a few hours, then I wake up and there is just no way to get back to sleep. I know its hormones, but that doesn’t make it any less maddening. By the way, I seem to sleep just fine at my desk here at work. Can barely keep my eyes open.
3. The Bitch Queen is in residence. Not constantly, mind you. Just often enough to take me by complete surprise; she’ll takes over my body when I least expect it, then leave me standing in whatever verbal mess I’ve created, defensive and insecure. Nice, lady, real nice.
4. And as always, in typical I-can’t-believe-I-call-myself-a feminist fashion, I feel like I could live with all of the above if I didn’t look like shit. It seems like every cycle the bloating is worse. I am wearing pants that, a year ago, I had to wear with a belt. And my belly is pushing so hard against the waistband it’s leaving permanent marks on my skin. Let’s face it, I look pregnant. How humiliating. I’m on my last “hide the belly” outfit right now (I only really have 3), and I don’t even know what I’m going to do for tomorrow. Hide under my desk, maybe. That seems like a good solution.
Sigh. If I wasn’t already so overly fat, I’d invest in some serious chocolate for tonight. (Actually, if I had the evening on my own, I’d do it anyway, but I can’t indulge in anything food-related without J feeling like he has to match me bite-for-bite, or eat even more than me, and he’s got much more of a weight problem than I do. So I don’t like to encourage him. Probably better for me that way, anyway.)
Anyone else out there feel my pain? What’s your worst IVF/ART symptom?