As I prepare for my 3rd IUI, I'm sitting here, not feeling excited or nervous, optimistic or encouraged, but miserable. Just plain miserable. I'm feeling rather down in the dumps lately, in general. Starting this 7th round of Clomid, I've felt the effects to be more intense, more acute, more difficult for others to be around me. I just feel so discouraged by the process. I wonder how much of this has to do with coming up on the 2nd anniversary of my 2nd miscarriage? I cried during Rosh Hashanah services, when they read the Story of Hannah, wife of Elkanah, mother of Samuel. It's like picking a scab. You think it's healed over, and then it starts bleeding as if it just happened.
It may not seem like it today, but I'm really trying not to let this get me down. I am wallowing in a rather viscous lake of self-pity which is making me particularly horrible to my friends, family and co-workers. I feel as if this self-pity, almost self-loathing, is a stinking slime seeping from my pores. I am so far from the person I was before I miscarried. Before I began this difficult journey of infertility treatments. The drugs make me feel like I'm watching someone else, maybe my evil twin, bark at people, and rant and rave, thinking "Oh that's horrible, why can't she just take a breath and look at this objectively?" She doesn't have an objective view-point to see things from. Perception is reality, after all. This ShadowGirl version of myself is angry and jealous, mostly angry, and can't get past her fear and pain about having to go through this to remember why we're doing this.