I am irritable and nervous. The sun is already shining hot, I am home alone wishing for a friend. And my ears ring with the sound of my unicorn galloping full speed into disappointment and grief. I cannot visualize winning this full-scale war I’ve waged against my broken ovaries for years.
My mind races; perhaps I need to bump my mood stabilizer. My reflection in the window shows a skinny girl with a head too large for her frame, stretched out on an unmade bed with greasy bangs sticking to a long and narrow face. I feel a pang of sadness–years ago I was an unconventional beauty with flashing dark eyes and the rounded hips of excessive fertility. I waited too long. Unable to place a finger on which physical attributes now combine to make me look old and weary, I let a tear slide down my cheek. Letrozole, 2.5 mg. Take 1 tablet by oral route daily for 5 days days 3-7 of cycle. Can these stupid, possibly impotent, little pills bring redemption?
I’m 9 days past my ovulation, wondering if I’ll randomly experience a pre-fertility treatment miracle. Laughter echoes in my ear. I could kill ALL of this by taking one of the 50 home pregnancy tests I keep stashed in the bathroom but I won’t. The cat curls up under my chin, as always, desperate for affection.
And I hate hate hate this, I’ve been doing this for years and it wears me down and from now on I’ll go it alone with only Geoff by my side if I can somehow not drive him away with my vitriolic heart…
God laughs, the same God that took Molly and cursed my body to cling to her so she had to be ripped brutally from the comfort of my womb when I loved her so very much. The same God that took my sister when we were both only children. I’m so so sorry, Molly. I’m so so sorry, Meg. I would have done anything to save you. The stray sunbeam that dances over me makes me think of fire and I close my eyes, knowing sleep will come soon. Please visit my dreams, all my loved ones; I’m still trapped here. Here on Earth, I’ll move forward alone.