So it came and went. I was at least pregnant for a bit, this i know. I know R is convincing himself it didn't happen - probably a protection thing - it's not so easy to protect yourself though when you can feel every drop every twinge, feel everything puring out of you.
So it's back to waiting, to queuing to desperately trying to find the money for another go. To wondering what the fuck is wrong with me, wondering how many times we'll put ourselves through this. All I can think of, is that we can't afford to stay in our house, pay the mortgage, and bills and do IVF or raise a family.
All I can think of is the pain of egg collection, of feeling every movement of the needle, of crying constantly and desperately wishing it would end. Of the waiting - talking to yourself like a twat, with your hand protectively on your stomach, constantly. Of your heart in your mouth when the blood starts - of the tears, the inability to breathe, of the wish to go to sleep and never wake up.
So it all becomes cold and clinical and financial and soul-destroying, all over again...
