Tick...Tock...Tick...

So, here I am. CD30. The day. And?

Hmmm.... I feel like I am jinxing myself just writing this post but I'm going to anyway. The internets deserve to know what is going on with my uterus right? Well, I guess I can technically say aunt flo is late. I am on Clomid so I know that this happens. I'm sort of stuck today. I don't know what to do with myself except run to the bathroom every five seconds to check.

People have told me before that the only symptom they had was the very sure conviction that af was raising her hand to grab the knocker on their door, but seriously I feel her foot falling with each step as she gets closer! I lashed out at hubby last night and felt miserable most of the night. I'm achy, crampy, and omg am I sleepy! Have I bought a test? No way!

Does this make me a recovering poas-aholic? I dunno but I fear those dumb things. The sense of dread at hubby's mere mention of the plastic sticks of doom makes me nauseous. I can't bear the thought of that moment when af settles in much less the idea that I will willingly go out and pay for a stick that predicts the future early and delivers disappointment without the bouquet of roses and balloons that auntie flo so thoughtfully brings with her. I used to stock up on them, peeing on one a day until the end finally arrived. I kept thinking maybe it isn't time yet or perhaps I miscalculated - I'll try tomorrow. I just can't do that to myself this time. At the same time, I just don't want to give up. I don't want to know if I'm not until absolutely necessary.

So, I wait. Still and quiet, hardly daring to breathe or whisper for fear of bringing attention to myself and having auntie remember that she is scheduled for a visit. I go to sleep at night in fervent prayer, begging and pleading. I dream fitful dreams every single night and I cannot manage to stay asleep all night anymore which could explain why I have been sleeping in until noon some days. What do I do with all of that middle of the night awake time you ask? I lie there scared out of my mind, dreaming the undreamable in small intermittant sequences to ward off any nosy angels up there that might run tattling to someone that I dared dream of such hopeful happy things. I make sure to imagine a few scenes now and again in which I go to the bathroom to see Aunt Flo standing there waving at me as I walk across to the throne. I imagine hubby and I embracing in a ball of tears.

I hate this crap! No woman should ever have to go through this! Especially for the 67th time! I'm sure the red river will be here in the next day or so and I will cry and weep for a few hours. I will sulk and be miserable and then I will pull my battle gear back on and head back to the trenches for month 68. Until then, I wait...