For the past few days I've been getting my usual mid-cycle pain in the abdomen that signifies the monthly onset of another lovely egg being released from one of my ovaries. I am one of those 20% of women that gets pain (or "mittelschmerz"-mid-cycle pain) around the time of ovulation. Of course, it's great in the sense that at least I know that I'm ovulating, but it's also a huge, if you'll pardon my French, dicktease from an IF standpoint.
That pain-well, to tell the truth, it's really not that painful, just an achiness-tells me that, no matter how many times we have baby-making sex (and, let's face it, baby-making sex, or any sex for that matter, ain't as good as it was way back in those pre-TTC days), that the chances of it actually working are nil. Which is pretty fucking depressing, really. My body is saying to me, "Hey.........HEY..........guess what......I'm OVULAAAAAATING! Where's the fricking sperm?" To which I reply ,"Hey, don't ask me, talk to those stupid gummed-up tubes that are right next to you-they're fucking everthing up".
And, the sad thing is, even though I have a snowball's chance in hell of ever conceiving "naturally" and I know it's not going to work, every time I feel the pain I'm still "doing the deed" and hoping against hope that maybe a few of those swimmers will make it down the 90-car pileup that is my Fallopian highway and hit the jackpot. Why do I make myself crazy? Why go on hoping, when, realistically, I know that I have a better chance of getting hit by a Mack truck?
I think it's because hope (delusional thoughts?) is one of the few things that I have left to call my own. Infertility robs you of so much-your privacy, dignity, intimacy with your partner-and fills you with knowledge that you don't want to know. It takes away that blissful ignorance that most fertile women have about the process of reproduction. But, for some reason, even though infertility took all that away from me (and then some), it didn't banish that bitch Hope completely. Perhaps it's because I allow myself to hope, despite the shitty things that I've been through. Perhaps it's because I know, if I didn't let myself hope, I'd be a right fucking mess and probably in a locked ward somewhere, waiting for my meds.
So, despite the knowledge that the odds are reproductively against me, we still humped like rabbits this week. And, it's all because of hope.
Either that, or it's the fact that I'm addicted to trying to conceive-once you start, you can't stop yourself. It's like crack.
Addiction or Hope of Conception-you decide.