The last 48 hours have been fairly brutal for me, and the brutality continues...
At 10dpo, my temp started to decrease and I started having PMS symptoms. I knew AF would be coming soon. I was sad, disappointed, but aside from casually informing my husband of the news, I really didn't make a fuss. Fast forward a few hours, I am sitting with my computer calculating out my next ovulation for Clomid cycle II. It took mere seconds for me to realize that I would be ovulating right smack in the middle of an already paid for, and much looked forward to, trip to the East coast to visit my family, without DH! Bring on the waterworks. It was too much. In that instant, I felt all hope leave me. Not only had my uterus failed me once again, but worse, fate had failed me by destroying my next cycle...We would obviously NEVER have a baby and it was all my fault. All the emotions I had bottled up came tumbling out. I was angry at the world, and more importantly angry at myself! I started shouting and crying through my pathetically bronchitis-beaten voice and making a scene to end all scenes (poor DH).
I did calm down, and make it through the night, only to wake to a temp below my coverline...THE END. I sniffled my way around the house, choked on my breakfast and started to await AF.
I made a call to my sister, the once person besides DH who I update on all things baby, and of course this led to many more hysterical sobs. Talking to someone I trust has a way of letting it all out, so there I was, once again covered in tears and shaking from head to toe.
Today I thought I had put it past me, that I was ready to move on to whatever the next cycle brings, but when I woke this morning there was still no AF, and my temp had gone back up a little. It isn't what it was at 9dpo, but it is over of my coverline by .3 degrees. The test still says negative, and it is 12dpo (the date I normally get my period), but there is now this little feeling of "maybe" creeping back in, and I just don't want that feeling. I know it will only end in tears.