Up late with Mrs Woggie.

Because tomorrow is Wednesday and that means I should have been 8 weeks. Just 4 weeks off telling people. I'm hoping that if I stay up really late, I'll sleep in really late and that will mean half of Wednesday will be gone before I even wake up. I know in reality that is a stupid thing to do, because I have zillion things to do tomorrow, which include preparing for my tutoring session in the afternoon. And going shopping, I think I'm going to treat myself and get a GHD. We are going to a charity ball on Saturday and my straightener which was $20 about 4 years ago, is slowly losing its "Oomph" and I need to have nice hair so I think a GHD is in order. I'm justifying by saying, I'll get my $$ worth out of it, which will mean growing my hair :S and that it is actually cheaper than going to the hairdresser and getting my hair done every time we have a spiffy event to go to! AND I've been going to the gym EVERY yes, I repeat EVERY day. So I deserve one. A huge thanks to Zoe, who convinced me that I was deserving :D thank you darling!!

Nothing is happening on the TTC front. We are DTD again, with condoms - which seems ludicrous since I'm an infertile!! Ironically the condom broke last night. I would find it absolutely hilarious if I got pregnant from a condom breaking. But I'm an infertile, things like that don't happen to people like me. Usually that only happens to trailer trash and smutty women who have serious drug dependencies and women who don't want children. Since I fit into none of those categories (although the neighbours have a caravan, maybe I'm in with a shot!) I think I'll have to resort to getting up the duff the hard way and having well timed intercourse in a business like manner with my husband. Can you tell I'm really not looking forward to TTC again.

The sad thing is. That not even a TTC break can fix my resentment of having sex. I used to enjoy it. But now, it serves as nothing but a horrible reminder as what I can't achieve by having sex. I'm resentful that, that got taken away from our relationship.

While I'm on the topic of resentment, I'm really resenting people telling me "It (they can't even say the word miscarriage) is for the best. The best for whom? Or who? Or what? Not me. Not Mr. Woggie. Not our relationship. Not my future pregnancies in which I will not be able to enjoy. Not my sex life. Not our financial status. Not my emotional well being.

Worse things happen than a miscarriage at 5w5d, I'm well aware of that. And I accept that. Last Wednesday one of my favourite actors Mark Priestley passed away he was only 32 years old, that, is only 2 years older than Mr. Woggie. People, lots of people loved him, admired him and loved watching him on TV. The loss that his family and friends would be feeling would be huge and over whelming compared to my loss. I can't imagine losing a child who had a life and a body, who was tangible, who I'd raised, that would be life changing, I'm lucky I can try again. Mark's parents can not. Rest in Peace Mark.