Bitterness, thy name is diva

Well holy fuck.

Pardon the profanity, but I'm really pissed at the universe. Again.

Quel surprise.

I'm just damned sick and tired of being infertile and being crapped on by the babydust bitch.

That little tramp decided she'd left me alone for far too long and so today, she pulled up in her scuzzy paneled van and threw a flaming bag of poo at my doorstep.

And it stinks.

Yes, we're back in fertility land. I've kept a bit quiet about it because it's been awhile and I'm really trying to not have it dominate my entire being as it has in the past. And I had been doing a somewhat decent job of it.

Until lately.

So yeah, things aren't going according to plan. Which sucks hairy ass, 'cause as we started this whole thing, we were told that we were going into it with ideal conditions.

And no one had ever said that to us before, so you can imagine how we clung to that like a lifeline.

Well, now it appears as though we're drowning, and someone's yanked our precious floatation device right out from underneath us.

Bitterness, today thy name is most indeed diva.

Now, I should say that all hope is not lost. We're not completely out yet. But it really is looking that way. So I've done my crying (not all of it, I'm sure - but I do need to rehydrate in order to actually get my body to produce new tears) and I'm in my angry, bitter phase.

I do hope it's all for nothing, and that tomorrow I look like a real stupid diva for getting all riled up over what might actually never materialize. I'd happily take back this post and all the crappy things I said about the universe if she actually comes through for us just this one time.

Pretty please, Ms Universe. I've tried to be good. I've tried to be nice. I've even tried to be patient. But we've waited so long, spent so much and come so far, I'm just not prepared for this to be over already, ya hear?

Pretty please with sugar on top.

And that's your daily dash. How's your diva doin'?