Trying to conceive. And isolation.


I feel so incredibly isolated during this “trying to conceive” phase of my world.

I am overanalysing every movement, every gesture, every fluid, every excretion, every feeling, every symptom… every thing. And it’s something that only I can feel. I can’t get second opinions on this. No-one can tell me if this feels *exactly* like last time – when I did conceive. No-one can verify if that little micro pop was an actual pop or maybe just some gas or like.. was there even a pop?!

I don’t understand how my handsome husband, who is with me every step of every path I walk (figuratively, metaphorically)… is not emotionally distraught by me getting my period. How can he seem so not interested in this. This is my whole world right now.

I don’t understand how society is so useless and unsupportive right now. Though, perhaps I don’t know what kind of support I want or need. I do know that I really don’t want to hear the useless cliché about perfect timing, and those who wait, and god has a plan and blah blah blah.

Right now I’m doing this whole “I’m never trying to conceive again” thing.

Yeah, let’s see how many hours that lasts.


I just want to go to Facebook and be like… fucking got my period guys. this really sucks. life sucks. take me now.

And I totally get that people have actual stuff going on… to which this might be decently insulting.

And I want to buy anything that could possibly help me get pregnant. Ovulation kit. Done. Three different types of ovulation kits. Sure. Baby clothes. Of course. New sheets. Totally. Vitamins. Derr. New animal. Why not. This-Completely-Falsely-Marketed-Gimick-That-Has-A-Picture-Of-A-Baby. Okay YAY!!!

And in the end it is still me and my uterus. Blood, or no blood. Sticky cervical fluid or stretchy cervical fluid. Pulsating feeling or thumping feeling. Implanting cramps or shedding lining cramps. It’s all on me. And I am with me all the time.

Maybe that makes it worse… like… if I was only stuck with me for a few hours a week, I could totally try polite conversation about leaving the washing on the line during the rain. “Stupid mistake”. “lol”. “At least it’ll get washed twice”. “lol”…

But we are really way past that. We as in, all the parts of myself. We are totally a we.

And all these voices are saying all of this stuff.

And it’s all me.

Kind of at my darkest and most scariest.

My most desperate and invested. My most hurt and vulnerable. My most angry and fiery. My  least socially acceptable. My least making-sense-ness. My least cohesive. My least rational. My least calm. My least reasonable. And they are all loud and talking!

Why can’t anyone else hear these voices?
Why can’t anyone else feel these feelings?
Why can’t anyone else go through this with me…

It’s really hard! And I feel alone 😦


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