I would like a separation from my reproductive system.
No, I am not talking about a mental separation. I am talking about a complete severance from my being. Having it thrown against something hard, a wall isn’t hard enough, a mountain of granite is what I am envisioning. Stomping on it, then putting it in a blender so that there is NOTHING left.
It is obviously big piece of crap. It is the epitome of evil. In the dictionary, a picture of my malfunctioning, destructive, irritating reproductive cycle should be adjacent to evil.
If it isn’t obvious the Wicked Witch – Aunt Flo – (whatever you want to call it) just showed.
A few days ago, I got an article about womb transplants from the American Fertility Association. And I thought, wow, I’ve been saying that I would like a reproductive system transplant for several years. It seems that they are getting closer to that point!
(Yes, I realize how ridiculous that is, considering it brings in to the effect you are essentially having donor eggs etc. And since I don’t think that is an option here, it is a ludicrous idea. But, I never said this was a rational thought.)
Right now, I want NOTHING to do with any reproductive system.
Right now, I don’t believe it will eventually happen. (Heck, I don’t believe that at any point and time, haven’t for quite some time. And actually, coming around to it and being OK.)
Right now, I want to roll into the fetal position (in my bed) and cry. (But I can’t because instead I’m sitting at my desk at work.)
Right now, I realize that I should never hope unless there is more than 6% chance, because the probability is just not there and feeling like this is just not worth it.
Later (in a few days), I will pick myself up; start the insurance procedure and we will start IUIs in March.
But, right now, it really hurts.