In these emotional Clomid days, I focus on stringing two sane thoughts together at a time to get me through… My sane thought today is that the weather is wonderful and all my meals are planned and I’m going through paperwork at the office—my day is very predictable. In the crevasse below rushes fertility drugs, being exhausted, nervous about IUI next week, not sure if my surgical wounds are healing correctly, not sleeping well, etc.

On the other side of that crevasse is another sane thought that I might have a much needed relaxing weekend at home to rest and recuperate. And those two sane thoughts are held together with what seems like the most fragile spider web silk. And that thread is the only thing that keeps my tear ducts in check—for now.

The last four weekends, sandwiched between work weeks, have consisted of my uncle dying, having my mom and her friend in town for a weekend, going to San Antonio for my uncle’s funeral, and last weekend, surgery. You see, I am supposed to go to Louisiana this weekend for baby brother-in-law’s wedding, but I can’t muster the energy of the breakneck pace I know we’ll have once there. I mourn not being there to witness their vows, to see family that I love, and to catch an LSU football game. I am also afraid that if I go I will not have given myself sufficient time to recover from surgery, and be physically and emotionally rested enough to…well, to exist.

I have always been good at taking care of other people. I have never been good at tending to myself. But this conception thing is inherently so self-absorbed. It puts me an awkward position of having to tend to my body, mind, and spirit and the process upends my priorities. A friend wrote yesterday that “the stress you’re facing [of trying and having difficulty conceiving] is the greatest type of stress because it involves all of you–physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual. You must take care of yourself in the process.” Well, she is right, but I still feel like a weak coward for putting myself first and getting rest this weekend. My big brother-in-law has been going through chemotherapy, for weeks on end, but HE’S going. Thankfully, my partner is unconditionally understanding and without her support, my demise would be certain.

The way I feel right now, I don’t even know or think I can handle another cycle after this one—I know this is only #5 and that classifies me as a total wimp. But so be it, the process is difficult for me. The emotional rollercoaster of hope and disappointment is intense. My friends and family encourage me to persevere. A good friend from college wrote me recently to have hope because the Lord would give me the desires of my heart and God did not place the desire in me to have a child for no reason. Breathe on me Breath of God, Fill Me With Life Anew. God help me.