You know what’s fun about TTC? Nothing. Not a goddamn thing. Not the sex. Not the two weeks of waiting that’s inevitably filled with all sorts of hope filled nudges – even though you know – YOU KNOW – that it’s all bullshit and the only thing that’s real is whatever means positive on the end of a plastic stick that you’ve pissed on. Not the monthly crashing disappointment that follows said 2 weeks thanks to the big fat middle finger in your pants. And certainly not the redness that punches you in the face again and again and again for whatever reason requires the removal of your knickers. Whether it’s your 1st month of trying (and failing. miserably) or your 10th – it all sucks. Every. Single. Bit.

But you do it again. And again. And again. With no guarantee that you’ll ever see that smiley face, little cross or whatever. Because TTC sucks. Until it doesn’t. Or you move on. And that’s what I keep reminding myself every time I feel like shit & guilty that I’m not satisfied with the glorious gift I’ve already been blessed with once.

But maybe that’s just me. Yup, probably just me.