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It seems I’m unlearning how to sleep. I usually can’t do without 8 solid hours per night, but in the past 7 or 8 weeks I rarely got more than 4 hours on any given night. Last night, for example, I didn’t get a minute of shut eye.

Not the best way to start a week. Shame, not for DH either, who now sleeps in the guest room (let’s just call the flippen room that) to avoid my tossing and turning. The advantage of this is that I can at least turn on the light and read – it’s currently way too cold to get out of bed and do anything else.

I started on Fluoxetine last Thursday, so I’m hoping that spring will eventually arrive again.

I should probably also see a therapist – which would be to DH’s shock and horror. He has about as much respect for a psychologist as for a maximum security inmate. But sheesh, I feel so haunted by ghosts of Christmas past (previously survived a dreadful illness), present and future at the moment.

I guess one can only vaguely hope to be able to make sense of it all some day.

But back to work, chin up – and smile.

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A woman once told me that having kids was the very last thing she wanted as, “from the moment they come screaming into your world, they do nothing but inconvenience you and turn your life upside down”.

Those times I really lose hope, I think of these words and I actually find a bit of comfort thinking that having kids is not guaranteed to bring anyone more happiness than they had beforehand.

I’m really just saying this as it tends to give me a bit of perspective – the full truth is that if I never get to take a baby home, I’m sure I’ll mourn this till the day I die.

Man, I hate it when I go shopping and every shopper I pass seems to have at least one kiddie in her shopping trolley.

Almost as if I just haven’t passed the right aisle yet..

Sigh. But they’re usually so cute still. I can’t help looking.

I have a very sweet char who cleans my house once every two weeks. She’s 42 and just fell pregnant by ‘mistake’ – altough she’s very, very excited. I’m really happy for her, but also cried my eyes out after she told me.

But let’s try to hang onto hope. Maybe once the stork knows one’s address..

I hate to admit that lately I can’t snap out of being a constant cry baby. I have slept very little in the past month, lost a worrisome amount of weight (actually dropped my BMI below 16) and worst of all, can’t seem to stop crying. All of a sudden, the weight of the world is totally wearing me down and I’m wondering whether I’d even cope with having a kid.

Fortunately I have a job where I sit in an office all day doing IT stuff, so it will thankfully take a bit of time before my co-workers figure out I’ve possibly lost all my marbles. My poor husband must unfortunately know this by now following several erratic outbursts over nonsense.

Sure, I’m still reeling from the formal diagnosis of IF and severe endo (only 4 weeks ago). I’m still cramping a lot after the extensive lap, which is not conducive to a good night’s sleep or a healthy appetite. Besides, maybe it’s nothing a BFP might not cure?

Yet I have a horrible family history of severe depression, so I can’t afford too much nonchalance.

If anti-depressants are no option while you’re ttc, I don’t want to mention any of this to my FS – or preferably anyone, actually. I’m too embarrassed and am used to being much more together than this. Maybe more thoughts of ponies and rainbows, a few 30 minutes walks per week and (hope I’m this lucky) some restful sleep will do the trick?

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