Second week of Prometrium is taking it's toll and it's only Monday. Even with all my Bipolar meds, the breakthru depression is killing me. And DH. Part of me thinks that this would be my PMS week anyway and if I'm not pregnant then I'm just subjecting myself and everyone around me to a double whammy of hormones. (Sorry if I've splattered any on you, I've been letting it fly on average of every 2 hours.)

But another part of me thinks that this is what we signed up for, this is why I'm using my time on disability to do something I wouldn't be able to handle if I was working full time. Mostly though, I just want to throw myself a big pity party. It goes like this: I wish I had a paying writing gig instead of letting my creative juices rot / Why bother developing my own projects when they're never good enough to sell / I miss my mother even though I haven't talked to her since the wedding which she made every effort to ruin as is her sick borderline way / Why do I have to sacrifice my sanity to make a baby when I've already lost three angels / Etc.

I think I'm going to stop the Prometrium tomorrow if there is no improvement. Home test on July 4th, blood test on July 5th. If I had to narrow down all the noise of my bipolar over-thinking, it would be that I have so much hope in my heart that every baby I've lost has nearly killed me and I pray that each cycle of fertility treatment doesn't go the same.

At least I am blessed with the fur babies who are literally licking away my tears as I write this.