So last time I wrote about the fact that I was taking Microgynon to help get rid of the cysts on my ovaries, and the idea was that I’d stop taking it, have a period/withdrawal bleed a few days after that, go for a scan and start another cycle.
But I haven’t. I stopped taking Microgynon nearly a week ago having taken it for about 5 weeks back to back and although I’ve had what’s euphemistically called “spotting” — the same sort of thing that I had for about a week before I stopped taking it — I haven’t had anything resembling a proper period. (I took Microgynon for seven years so I kind of thought I knew what to expect.) Which means I haven’t gone for a scan, and I’m not doing another cycle.
I’ve ruled out the infinitesimally slim possible that I might have actually been pregnant. (That emotional fuckwittery I mentioned in my last post? Yeah, it also involved some physical fuckwittery. And although I have utter faith in the contraceptive pill, the condom, and the state of my cycle, I thought it was worth checking. One pregnancy test later and I’m very definitively Not Pregnant.)
So I’m trying to convince myself that this is all fine and normal and it’ll happen, but of course I’m catastrophising at the same time and thinking that maybe this is it, maybe I’ve just overloaded my poor body with too many hormones and too many drugs and it’s just saying “Do you know what? I’m done, I can’t do this any more, I have nothing left to give.”
Which frankly is a bit how I’m feeling at the moment. And not just about IVF.
That tangled knot I was trying to be OK with didn’t get any less knotty. And I realised I couldn’t be OK with it. And the fallout from that has been, not to put too fine a point on it, devastating.
I’m full of self-loathing for allowing myself to end up in a situation I should have been able to see coming a mile off. I also feel like there’s something really self-destructive about being so emotionally overwrought at a time when I’m trying to get pregnant (after all it’s not as if this whole process isn’t emotionally taxing enough on its own) — which, in that brilliant way I have of over-analysing everything — makes me feel like I’m deliberately sabotaging my efforts to get pregnant because, because, because… I don’t know.
Maybe subconsciously I don’t think I’m worthy of being a mother? Because let’s be honest, I feel like I’m doing a pretty shitty job of living my own life right now. What on earth makes me think that I could be supporting someone else and guiding them?
By the time you get to 40, you kind of figure you should know what’s going on. You should have a clear view of how to live your life, of how to make good judgements on who you can rely on, of how to look after yourself, of how to not hurt the people you care about.
But at the moment I feel about as competent and emotionally capable as a four-year-old. I feel like I’m fucking everything up because I feel like I can’t do right for doing wrong. I want to make me my priority, because — without wishing to sound self-pitying here, nobody else is making me their priority right now — and someone has to look after me.
But I feel like I don’t know how to do that without hurting someone who is one of the last people on earth I’d ever want to hurt. I don’t know if being selfish because it’s an act of self-preservation justifies that behaviour, I just don’t know anything any more and, like I said, I just feel like I’m fucking everything up and I don’t know how to unfuck it.