I’ve decided after nearly 70 days of temping with no period in sight, and no feeling of a period in sight, that temping is making me more depressed than actually knowing whether or not my temp is at 97.2 degrees, or 97.5 degrees this morning (it was 97.5, although I’m sure tomorrow it could be…brace yourself…97.3 degrees.) Temping removes any element of hope or surprise that I get from thinking maybe…just maybe…I could be pregnant. It’s taking the joy of trying away from me (I’m grumbly, sarcastic and sad every time I begrudgingly pee on a stick), and it’s making Hubs sad to have the joy and surprise taken away from him, too. The whole situation is shit.
I had a bit of a break down yesterday about the whole period issue. I’ve been trying so damn hard to be strong and okay with the fact that my cycles have vanished in the night, but every day it feels like I wake up and am face to face with my ovaries pointing and laughing at me. Every girl who gets a regular period gets to flip her hair and be in the popular clique. Is this what I’ve come to? Resentful that 90% of the female population properly bleeds from her vagina every month?
I am taking a bunch of night classes to complete some prerequisites for Nursing school. Last night was my physiology class, and the lesson was? The (Goddamn) Female Menstrual Cycle. Our teacher began lecturing on the 28 day cycle, and how amazing it was that the female body had this built-in system of preparing the body for pregnancy. I teared up. I actually teared up looking at a freaking graph of a luteal phase cycle.
I do not want to be that girl anymore. I want to reintroduce hope into the equation. Rather than curse my period for not coming, I’d like to imagine that she’s away from the office, and not checking emails right now. She’s on a tropical island, enjoying a mai tai and some sun, reading a best seller she bought at the airport. She’ll be back soon.