I went to lunch today with a friend and then went to this new scrapbooking store (for the record I am not a scrapbooker but this store could convert me).  I was walking along and then hit the baby section and just started balling my eyes out.  I've been waking up in tears all week with this recurring dream about my Dad cooing over a baby that is not mine.  The effort of pretending I'm ok is killing me slowly.  And, like Lut C. I feel I am seriously slipping at work.  I think I headed for a nervous breakdown.

I immediately feel like I need to apologize for complaining to all the women who have done way more medicated cycles or much more complex treatments like IVF.  I sometimes feel I'm not entitled to my feelings because others have endured more than I.  Logically, I know that none of the wonderful women of the IF-blogosphere would want or expect me to feel this way.  It is just another layer in my guilt-ridden self-inflicted masochism.

Still no LH surge.  I think I may not ovulate at all this month.  I don't even feel a twitch in my ovaries like they are shut down completely.  I just don't get it and I feel so angry.  I mean, why?  For goodness sake, why?  Isn't this hard enough?  Isn't it unjust enough that my wonderful husband might not be able to pass on his beautiful eyes and wavy black hair?  Who decides who "wins" this terrible IF lottery?  To top it off, how DARE the insurance lobby deny me treatment?  How dare they lie against the entire medical community and say it is experimental or not medically neccessary?  Let's see how happy they are when they're paying for my extended stay in a padded room.

Does this count as IUI#3?  I mean technically there was no insemination but doesn't the ride on the roller coaster count as a ride even if you have to get off half way through.  I'm sorry but emotionally when (if) the next cycle starts it will feel like #4 to me.

I just can't take it anymore.  So, ok, this month there were no shots, no hormones, no bloating, no painful cervical catheter to complain about.  No abyssmal motile sperm numbers or equally awful follicle counts to cry over.  No 2ww to agonize over.  It was a bunch of nothing - why does it hurt so bad? 

Oh, that's right because there was also no baby.

Again.

I want so much not to want this anymore.  I want to be free of the longing that makes my heart ache.