Kissing the stress (and the dream) goodbye

So, about 6 weeks ago, I started my first cycle on Clomid.

In case you're unaware, Clomid is a medication that induces ovulation in women who do not ovulate consistently on their own (like me).  It does this by (literally) screwing with your brain chemistry and tricking your body into pumping your hormone production into overdrive.  So...yeah.  It takes a women already struggling with the emotional turmoil of infertility, and ramps up her hormone levels.  Hijinks ensue.

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"Young lady, are you lost? This is the fertility clinic. Planned Parenthood is across the street."

When I was last at my OBGYN's office, I informed my doctor (specialist/surgeon/only person I trust with a knife in my insides) of mine and my husband's intentions to start trying for another baby.  He told me, "If you're not knocked up in 6 months, come back and see us."  (Yeah, my old doctor was pretty casual.)

Well, here we are, 6 months, hundreds of temperature readings, pills taken, and dozens of sticks peed on later and, big surprise, I'm not pregnant.

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I'm a sick, strange woman.