Dear Universe,
I’m tired.

I’m tired of peeing on stuff.
I’m tired of people reminding me my age and that the f*cking clock is ticking. Maybe my clock is digital assholes! Back off!
I’m tired of thinking of comebacks when people ask me why we haven’t had kids yet.
I’m tired of getting unsolicited advice…especially from anyone over 65 years old and who have suggested overly provocative positions.
I’m tired of seeing pregnant women everywhere I go and being jealous.
I’m especially tired of pregnant women who somehow seem thinner than me even though they have a whole other person inside them and I don’t. WTF?

I’m tired of taking my temperature before I can have sex.
I’m tired of hormone induced mood swings (and so is my poor husband).

I’m tired of comparing my cervical mucus to something I make my omelet’s with.

I’m tired of second guessing every cramp.
I’m tired of avoiding pregnant friends.
I’m tired of changing channels when a pregnant story line comes on.
I’m tired of wondering if we are going to become ‘cat people’.
I’m tired of another Mother’s Day for someone else.
I’m tired of thinking that I’m being punished for something.

I’m tired of people I don’t know looking at my va-jay-jay.
I’m tired of waiting for two weeks, just to get my damn period.
I’m tired of feeling like a failure.
I’m tired of worrying about caffeine. God dammit – I LOVE Starbucks!
I’m tired of using phrases such as insemination, implantation and intervaginal sonograms in regular conversation.
I’m tired of the question, “Sooooo, what’s new with you? Anything exciting?”
I’m tired of the pity faces I get when people here my struggles.
I’m tired of the patronizing happy face that shows up on my ovulation prediction kits when I’m ovulating. It’s like, “Yeah, go ahead. Good luck with that loser!
I’m tired of paying for prenatal vitamins when they’ve so far been “pre-nothing”.
I’m tired of people telling me they got pregnant by accident with their 7th child. (Ok, I’m exaggerating there but you know what I mean).
I’m tired of buying maxipads.
I’m tired of talking to my insurance company about my uterus.
I’m tired of seeing Facebook posts about yet another one of my friends being pregnant and/or giving birth. (I still think I should have posted a picture of my uterine polyp after I had it removed but I’m sure my polyp isn’t as cute as a newborn baby).
I’m tired of being stressed.
I’m tired of the strain.
I’m tired of thinking about all this.
I’m tired of not being pregnant.
I’m tired of not being a mom.
What am I NOT tired of? My husband, having sex (especially crazy monkey sex), Robert Pattinson (Team Edward! Woo hoo!), connecting with fellow fertility challenged friends and having the hope that one day, this will all workout.
Tired but hopeful,
Jay

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