May 15th, 2008
CD24 / 9DPO
You know that feeling you have when something bad is on its way. That deep sense of foreboding that weighs down on your chest…or better still, your chest? Well, that’s what I woke up with this morning.
From the minute I opened my eyes, my heart told me I would soon start spotting. I can’t quite explain it, as I’m nowhere near the start of my period…but I can feel it coming.
So, understandably, I was in a very bad mood getting dressed for work. And to make it worse, it appears I have put on a little bit of weight. I wore one of my fitted jersey blouses, and there it was…a muffin top! A muffin top on me…Omotayo! For all of my life, I have had a figure to die for, with washboard abs I never had to work for, but here I am with a small meaty bulge forming around my midriff. But yet, no baby!
This was the only thing on my mind, on the train ride to town. If I’m not pregnant this cycle, I really have to get my fitness game back on. I can’t be infertile and fat at the same time!
The rest of today was just bla! Work was bla! Symptoms were bla! My life is bla! I know I’m being melodramatic, but it’s true. As with the last cycle, my symptoms have been steadily tapering off in intensity.
By the time I got back home, so moody and melancholy was I that I actually switched off my phone, closed my blinds, and went to bed…and it wasn’t even 7pm yet.
May 16th, 2008
CD25 / 10DPO
My eyes opened at 4.30am this morning, and I reckoned it would be a good idea to go for a run. So, I hopped into my long abandoned exercise gear, put on my headphones, and off I went.
I ran through the web of streets in my neighborhood, and for the first time in weeks, I felt pumped and energetic! As I ran, I praised along with Donnie McClurkin, Fred Hammond, Cece Winans, Yolanda Adams. As I ran, it was just me and my God. By the time I had run for an hour, it was almost 6am, and thanks to the fast approaching summer, it was already nice and bright by the time I got home.
Javier was already in the shower when I walked into our bedroom. When he got out, I guess he got turned on seeing me panting and sweating…so I got an additional…erm…workout for the morning. As we left for work, we made a date to meet up on the West End, for after-work drinks. Just the thought of that was enough to keep me smiling all day!
And it was really worth it. We met up at the bar we used to frequent, when we first started dating, and it was so romantic! For those 2 hours, I completely forgot about TTC, or symptoms, or spotting. It was just me and my boo…the love of my life…the man who showed me the true meaning of love!
When we had met, I had been broken. I had just come out of what I thought was a serious relationship, with a guy back in Nigeria. Lere and I had met one of the Christmases I had been home, and we had fallen in love, very deeply and very quickly. By the time I left for London 3 weeks later, we were a proper item. But that was where the honeymoon had ended. What had followed had been 3 years of stress, headache, and heartbreak! What that man put me through, I will never forget in a hurry! He turned out to be a serial womanizer! I was constantly barraged with stories of his escapades, and before I knew it, he had turned me into a raving lunatic…calling him round the clock, and even paying people back in Nigeria to help me spy on him. And the number of impromptu trips I made to Nigeria, just so I could catch him red-handed? My Mother would faint if she knew how frequently I was crisscrossing the Atlantic…all because of a man! And catch him I did…several times! But foolish me! I still held on tight to him, deceiving myself that he would change. But that last Christmas, 3 years to the day we had met, and a few months to my 29th birthday, he broke up with me. His reason? He didn’t think we were well suited, and had met someone he felt he was more compatible with.
Everyone had been so worried about me…my Mother, my friends, they all rallied around me to make sure I was okay. My brothers wanted his head on a stake, but I assured everyone there was no need for drama…that I was fine! I held it together for the rest of the Christmas holiday…smiling, laughing, attending all the remaining festivities, and letting everyone know I was a-okay. But It was a classic case of delayed reaction. The minute I stepped into my apartment in London, I had buckled. I had just crumbled…like a pack of cards! I had stayed in my room for days, crying…and crying some more. By the time I ventured out for classes, I was like a ghost. As far as I was concerned, my life was over. I was almost 30, and had been dumped by the man I loved.
And then, this white boy started toasting me in the library. At first, I didn’t even notice him. I would go to the library to read, but would spend the whole time staring into space. But he persisted. He knew where I sat, and was always sure to pass by to say hello. He saw that I always came to the library with crackers and mints, and soon, before I even sat down, there would be a whole night’s supply of crackers and mints on my usual table. And then one day, I had allowed him walk me back to my apartment…and that was when I realized we shared the same sense of humour…and that his eyes were the same shade of blue as the ocean. Soon, it became a habit for us to walk back from the library. And that was how I found my love…
But back to the matter!
Getting back home, I decided to recap the symptoms I had today. My boobs felt tender and were really heavy today. It’s nothing unusual for my pre-AF symptoms though, so I’m not reading anything into it!
So far, I haven’t had the spotting I was so sure would show up yesterday…and I hope it doesn’t show…