Clomid is making me a wuss.
I haven't had very many symptoms from the clomiphene. . . well, until yesterday.
I was listening to my man, Michael Jackson in my car on the way home. Normal for me.
Then, all of a sudden, I broke into this 20 minute sobbing cry about Michael Jackson. First I was sad again about his death, then I was mad about how he was treated by perfect strangers (and his loser, Dad), then I told him I would make one of my pieces of art this Summer about him. . . then I was sad I wasn't pregnant, then, I was back to MJ. . . UGH.
The funniest part is that I would have momentary pauses where I would stop and say to myself, "Oh my God. This is ridiculous. Gotta be the clomid--gotta be. . . ha ha! Ha ha --waaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!!!!!"
I am a hormonal mess. It's kinda funny.
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