I don't know what caused it, but I spent a good portion of last night crying.
I think it was sparked by being in the bathroom, inserting my medication, and having the thought "I'm doing various kind of fucking medicating 5-6 times a day to help along a pregnancy that I don't even know exists." I have to keep up this fucking regimen and I don't even know if there's a reason to be doing it. Before this week it was in preparation, but now it's "just in case."
Why do other people get to do things half assed and it works out for them? Why am I the person who has to do everything 100% perfect to maybe get results? Other women don't even know they're pregnant until several weeks have gone by and yet they do just fine. Whereas I have to take the prenatals before getting pregnant. I have to shove myself full of hormone supplements both before and during the first days of pregnancy to make it as strong as possible.
And what do I get for my efforts if I succeed? I get to spend the next 5 months completely and totally paranoid. Up until the kid is big enough for me to feel it move every day and I can kind of monitor its progress myself, I have to be terrified that every little twinge is the beginning of the end, that every feeling of moisture in my panties is going to turn out to be blood, that every little cough is going to squirt the contents of my uterus into my pants.
I don't get to do the happy pregnancy stuff. I don't get to buy cute little outfits the first day we get that positive test. No. I get to spend every moment of every day bracing myself for disaster.
I want the end result. That's never in question. But I'm completely dreading the process it's going to take to get there. So if I report good news in a few days, understand that I am looking at months of misery and not the lifetime of joy MIGHT follow. So, in the big picture, yes, it would be wonderful news. But in the here and now, it's news that will make me miserable for a time.
All of this - it's not fucking fair.