A lot of women compare trying to conceive with being on a rollercoaster. For me at this moment, ttc feels like being on an eternal roundabout. Not a sexy roundabout in Rome with cute little cars racing past and gorgeous people zipping in and out on pastel mopeds. Not even a crazy-dangerous, exciting, imposing one like the Arc de Triomphe, where your heart is in your mouth at all times. Right now, I feel as if I’m circling a boring, uninspiring roundabout somewhere on the outskirts of a motorway and a drudgery-filled industrial estate. Making the same journey again and again and getting nowhere.
Blame it on the Buserelin. It’s my sixth time down regulating, which means I’m back in the fake menopausal state brought on by the nasal spray and feeling dog-tired and down.
Around and around and around we go with no exit in sight.