Big Fat Fucking Fail

I woke up this morning to a full bladder and was so certain that I was going to get my BFP today after yesterday's temperature. Wrong.  That's what I get for hoping, right?  My temperature went down and when I got to the bathroom I had a first row seat for AF's pre-game show. Cycle 27 is over and just in time for Mother's Day. I haven't been this upset about AF in a long time. I felt like we actually had a shot with the IUI.  Even though I know I have no control over what is happening with my body I feel like a failure.

Sobbing, I called Mike to tell him and I immediately started apologizing but he told me to stop. He said he doesn't blame me and that it's not my fault.  Why do I feel so guilty then?  Why is my body failing month after month? 

I just walked into the bathroom and infertility decided to play a cruel joke on me. There was a second line on this morning's test. My heart skipped a beat even though I KNOW that those results aren't valid after ten minutes. Maybe there wasn't even a second line. Maybe I've been staring at all my negative pregnancy tests for so long that my eyes are playing tricks on me.  I keep going into the bathroom to look at the second line even though I know it's not real. Pathetic, right?  A second line, however inaccurate, was just a cruel, cruel joke.

So today isn't officially CD1 since I'm only spotting so I'm not going to call the IF clinic just quite yet.  I'm hesitant to waist one of my three remaining Clomid cycles when Mike might not even be here during my fertile time to do IUI this cycle.  He is determined to try again this cycle though so he wants me to call to get my next prescription of Clomid.  So....moving on to IUI cycle #2 and this time we'll be in a foreign country when we find out if I am pregnant or not.

I hate that infertility has robbed me of so many joys.  My husband and I will be spending our seventh wedding anniversary in LONDON in three weeks and all I can feel is the pain in my heart that we're not taking a baby with us. Mike and I will be celebrating seven years of marriage. Some have been worse than others (those who have been through multiple deployments know what I'm talking about) but for the most part they have been seven wonderful years yet all I can think about right now is how we've been married for seven years and have zero children to show for it. 

Apparently pregnancy is an elusive disease and this cycle was one big fat fucking failure.