I Want to Punch 2WW in the Face!

I am so incredibly angry today. Fuming, actually. I think there is steam coming out of my ears and nostrils. Not a pretty sight - it might explain why people around me are staring. (Just kidding.... well, sort of.)

I have decided that I prefer trying to figure out when I ovulate to reading every. single. little. twinge. cramp. ache. stirring. as a possible sign of pregnancy. I have decided that I absolutely HATE. ABHOR. the two week wait. It's just not my scene. If it was a nightclub, I would leave never to return. If it was a movie, I would walk out and demand a refund.

I don't want to think for one moment - not even half of one moment - that I may be pregnant. That maybe our concerted efforts last week worked. Sure, a few of those efforts were pleasurable for both of us (note to self: enjoy it while you can because soon it will become mechanical, like the other bloggers have described) and we covered the entire week (those little guys were in there whether they liked it or not, injected every 48 hours) so we couldn't have missed the dramatic drop of the little egg. But I certainly have learned - from my own experience, the wise IF bloggers, and Dr. Google - that there are no guarantees.

It is not that I am anxious to pee on one of those damn, over-priced, and beacons-of-false-hope sticks. In fact, I just want the two weeks to be over so that I can get back to dreaming that maybe *next* month will be the lucky one. After the first few days when I know for sure that I am not pregnant, I am able to drum up a spark of hope in my pessimistic brain. But the two week wait is starting to wear on me. I am truly in awe of the wise and courageous bloggers who maintain their sanity through a series of disappointments over a year or more. I just can't do it.

Maybe it is *hope* that I want to punch in the face.

In case you have always wanted to see the inside of a strange and overactive (and not necessarily in a good way) mind, I thought I would give you a sneak peak. There are usually two strains of thought, so here goes:

THE OPTIMIST: ooh I felt a twinge, did I really feel it, ooh I think I did, I know I did. Have I ever felt that before - before I was trying to get pregnant, that is? Hmm...don't think so. Could it be?

THE PESSIMIST (REALIST): NO. STOP. JUST. STOP. You have probably felt this 100 times before. Certainly another month that you were not pregnant.

THE OPTIMIST: But my breasts feel more sensitive, I just know it. Heavier, different, somehow.

THE PESSIMIST: YOU ARE FULL OF SHIT. SHUT UP! Another month of disappointment. Get a life and MOVE ON!

I hate them both. The optimist and the pessimist. They both suck and I wish they would go find someone else to pester.

(But not the blogger friends that I have come to need in a pathetic hold-my-hand-while-I-hang-precariously-off-the-edge-of-a-cliff-way.....)