It’s a weird irony of nature that the HPT is typically taken a few days before AF is due (obviously because if it’s negative then AF will follow)… it also happens to be a time of emotional and physical disturbance for many women. PMS is often ridiculed in pop culture as a time when women acquire rabid overtones and express behavior that borders on irrational, either breaking down into a slobbering mess at the slightest provocation or screaming their heads off, sending the spouse running to the nearest watering hole to drown his sorrows. BS I say. Try being a woman who genuinely suffers from PMS for a day and I can safely say that the brawniest man out there will eat his words.
Every twinge in my tummy, every indication of soreness or that dull cramping sensation, every heightened emotion reminds me that the bloody (literally!) beast is on his way and I have no choice but to accept that. Last night was absolutely awful, the upstairs neighbors decided to enact a rather complicated tap dance routine right about 2 am. The spouse valiantly slept on, aided by his two loyal minions–his ear plugs! (I can’t wear ear plus since none fit my ear. No kidding. I’ve tried many times; the darn things just fly out -projectile style- before I have a chance to twist them in!) At 6.30 am the sunlight came to say a cheery hello again (did I mentioned I’m not a morning person?); poor DH retreated to the couch as has been his routine past few nights whereas I flitted from room to room, pillows and blanket in tow, cursing the world at large in a remarkably un-ladylike manner.
So now, at the late, late hour of 11.26 am I am sipping my protein smoothie, feeling extremely pissed off with my upstairs neighbors (who continued making the floorboards creak well into the morning), irritated with my husband for snapping at me because I was clumsy enough to trip on my own flip-flops (okay third time I tripped in two days but still!) and annoyed with my sticky, pasty hair which needs a good wash and my runny nose (allergies are back) and those three gargantuan pimples that befriended me a day after my last period and haven’t left my side since then.
I feel ugly, bloated and just an all out sad sap. I mean look at me. The other day upstairs neighbor was seeing some pics from our wedding and she casually remarked at how much younger I looked then, even though it was just 1.5 years back. I replied, politely, that the ttc process can take a toll on you (I am all about full disclosure, btw. People are welcome to form their own impressions which, I surmise, they eventually will either way). She laughed and said oh if this is your state planning for a baby, you’re in for trouble when you have one. Now she wasn’t being catty or anything and I suppose with a 1.5 year old girl she even knows what she is saying. However, I thought that comment was entirely out of place. As soon as they left I rushed to the mirror and kept looking at myself. I remember who I was not so long back. I was dating my husband-to-be and all my attentions were devoted to looking sexy and well groomed. Not to say I have underarm hair growing down my waist now. I still take care of my appearance, get my hair cut regularly, wear good clothes. Just that the zing is gone somewhere. I attributed it more to getting caught up with my PhD and a certain marital comfort rather than the ttc process which, I feel, we are still relatively new at. But when someone makes a comment like that, you do start questioning yourself. Do I really look that much older?
So, once I get over this frustration-struck phase of letting last month’s failed attempt pass, I am going to ‘perk’ up a little bit, put on some make up every now and then, and finally get my irritatingly long hair cut into a short, sleek style… something I’ve been dying to do for a while now but refrained from because the spouse likes the long hair. Well, I have a sneaky suspicion he likes my sanity even more. So there!