Silent treatment.

Clomid is not my friend, and we're not speaking to each other right now. Call it a bit of a falling-out, a disappointment. No promises were made, so I can't start crying "betrayed!" but believe you me, I'm tempted. Enter this blog's title: silent treatment. I'm still swallowing the nasty little pills, but I do it with a sneer.

The snarky tart has not only not gotten me pregnant, she's turned me into a raving headcase. Literally. I think I've raved aloud (alone) in my car more times in the last week than in the last 4 months put together. PLUS the everything-blurry-or-covered-in-squiggly-glowing-worms thing. PLUS a 7-hour long hot flash where I was sweating and hot even when I was freezing. PLUS utter. complete. insomnia. I'm talking 2 hours of sleep last night, bookended and punctuated by mostly inexplicable crying fits. Nice.

Needless to say, I think Clomid and I have gone as far as we can go and I'm searching for a new suitor. Yes, we'll finish off this round, but then I think I'm done. I'm interested to hear what the docs have up their sleeve next.

This is one of those times when stepping off the train is as exciting as stepping onto it was. A little sad, but at least it can pull away without me this time. Clomid, you're riding the roller coaster alone from now on.

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In other news, today is the Synaxis in honor of the Archangel Gabriel. No, I don't know what a Synaxis is. But the two prayers for today are lovely:

Apolytikion in the Fourth Tone
O Commanders of the Heavenly Host, we the unworthy beseech you, that through your entreaties you will fortify us, guarding us in the shelter of the wings of your ethereal glory, even as we fervently bow before you crying: "Deliver us from all danger, as Commanders of the Powers on high! "

Kontakion in the Fourth Tone
Supreme Commander of God and minister of the Divine glory, guide of men and leader of the bodiless hosts: Ask for what is to our profit and for great mercy, since thou art Supreme Commander of the bodiless hosts.