Saturday, December 17, 2011

You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch

Let's just get it out of the way right now:  I'm sick, and I'm not pregnant. 

I'm much more upset about the second one than the first, as it means we will end this year the same way we began it.  That's a really hard pill for me to swallow.  Seriously?  Ugh. Double ugh.  It also means that next month, we will have been trying as long as it takes to make a baby in the first place.

The first one caused the cancellation (optimistically, the postponement) of our annual Christmas party. 

I have to say thank you though to all of you who took time to say a little prayer for us.  I've felt your prayers.  Maybe that's silly; although it may not seem like it based on my writing above, I do have more peace about our "no" this month than I have in the past.  It's a set back, but not a complete, knock-the-wind-out-of-me sock in the gut like it has been. 

This waiting is so hard.  I can't adequately find words to describe how challenging this chapter has been.  There are so many worse things, so I suppose my "hard" chapter is what many would call priviledged.  It's not the loss of a child.  It' not a sick or hungry child.  I would take this over those things any day of the week.  Forever.

But the ache.  The wanting.  The rollercoaster of hope and denial.  It's maddening. 

Even as I write this, I'm still holding on to the slim chance that this might be impantation bleeding.  I'm 98% sure this round is over, but oh, that 2%.  It's why I take my coffee decaf.  It's why, even though I feel awful, I won't take any NyQuil when I go to bed tonight.  I'd never, ever gamble that 2% chance.  So I'll go to bed tonight without any medicine, and in 2 days when it's solidly over, I'll feel like an idiot that I didn't just take the meds since it wasn't any harm to anybody. 

This is a crazy way to live, month after month.  Without any definitive end in sight.   

I'm not complaining - not really, anyway.  I'm just sharing the reality.  I don't know how people do this for years on end, except that I know, having had Leah, that it will all be worth it.  I'm just so ready that it is painfully hard to wait.

September.  I'm optimistic that we're getting a September baby.  I've been wrong before, and maybe I'm destined to be wrong again, but I've felt this pull about September literally since before we started trying.  I was stunned when I got pregnant in August, because I expected September.  I lost both babies in September.   There's something about it that just fits.

Or, I'm just a trying-to-get-pregnant junkie.  Like the gambler who, despite losing each hand, continues to believe in just one more.

In this case, though... what else is there?

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