This roller coaster isn't fun.

It's been one of those days. 

Someone gave me an analogy years ago about life and its problems. Read with me and try to keep up with my head. 

Life is a bucket. In it, we piss and moan and shit. (I guess it would make more sense if life was a toilet, but whatevs). The bad days are the shitty days. Someone else just keeps shitting in our bucket. Works shits in the bucket. Health  shits in our bucket. Personal problems take a giant dump in there too. On the bad days, someone stands there with a stick and just stirs and stirs and stirs. More shit is added and it gets stirred over and over again which just makes life more messy and shitty. 

Today has been my bucket of shit and infertility is being a giant pain in my ass and stick in my bucket. 

The morning shift at 911 rolled along routinely and we had just picked up lunch at my favorite coffee house. I opened my box and poured my pasta salad into the lid. My bite was interrupted by a 911 line ringing. 

Out of my three other partners, I got to it first. I wish I hadn't. I wish I had been a second slower. I would have liked to have not taken this call. An elderly female was hysterical and said her 4 year old great nephew was not breathing. Long story is the child did not survive, despite her administering my CPR instructions, EMS quick response and ER attention. His injuries were too much. Charges are pending and I can't go into details, but I can count on one hand how many child, baby and newborn death calls I've taken. I can tell you each story vividly, and even remember their names. I can also tell you that each one involved stupid people who do stupid things, except one.  That one was no ones fault. That special one was able to be revived, if but for a short time for his family to spend a few final minutes with him.

If this had been the only bad call of the day, it would still have been classified as a bad day. But no. It got worse. Two more cardiac arrests that ended in two deaths. And I took each one of the calls. 

Add to this shittastic work day a smudge of concern at the RE appt and I am now ready to call this day quits. On CD 8, I have 4, maybe 5 follies, that are growing. I'm dialing down the Gonal dose to 37.5 IU and going back Friday. Hopefully, only two will be growing and ready for an IUI. If more follies grow, then we're cancelled. 

Coming home, I arranged my Menopur and trigger Rx to be delivered by Friday. Another $268 into this cycle. 

Our honey pot is quickly dwindling. And my mind is quickly reaching its blowing point. I told DH tonight that if this cycle isn't a BFP, then I'm done. Maybe for only a little while? But I can't do this again right now. It's taking its toll on me mentally. Plus, the financial part is weighing on me as much as the mental part. I need a time out. I feel like I'm the only one doing anything, but yet I know there's nothing else for DH to do. I feel like it's all my fault anyways, so the added pressure of only one cycle to succeed is doubling my anxiety. 

I could use some hugs, but mostly, I really could use a nap, or maybe just more than 5 hours of sleep. And I really wish that damn stick would stop stirring up shit.