Here’s the part that really gets me.

I am not upset that I am not currently pregnant right this second. I am not upset that I am not due in March. I am not even all that upset at trying again next month.

But I am freaking out because I feel like our window of opportunity is closing. Because if last cycle didn’t work, and this cycle didn’t work, it more or less says to me that natural cycles aren’t going to work. For a normal couple that would be jumping the gun considerably. But for someone who tried for over a year with no success the first time and only got pregnant through IVF? I don’t think I’m making any sort of great leaps of imagination here.

It would feel different if we could just jump into IVF when I get tired of this bullshit routine, but that’s not yet an option. I feel stupid because I haven’t even taken the steps to fix that yet, but I really was hoping I wouldn’t need to fall back on Plan B.

I want my miracle baby. I believed in my miracle baby. And I know that doesn’t count for jack shit in the real world, but I’m upset about it regardless. I want to live in a world where sex creates babies. That’s all. I just want something in this motherfucking year to go right, to be unexpectedly positive. i want a good surprize.

I feel like I did as a child, when all I wanted every year for christmas was a kitten or a puppy. I told everyone that I would give up all the other presents – every single one of the – if I could just get that one thing. I knew it was far-fetched, but I always held hope every single year that my parents would see how badly I wanted it and give me the best surprize of my life.

I was never given a puppy or a kitten as a gift. I went out, saved my money, figured out how to get one, and basically forced my parents to accept it (they were not pleased). And I was always slightly bitter about it – that no one recognized how very very badly I wanted it and how much I would treasure it. That no one thought I deserved it, or maybe what I wanted just didn’t matter enough.

Now we know we can force mother nature to yield – with a lot of effort, a lot of money, a lot of time. And maybe I should be happy with that and give up on the rest of it. But still, every night I fall asleep hoping that maybe, just maybe, I’ll wake up to a baby under the proverbial christmas tree.

I couldn’t stand it any longer, I took a test. It was negative.

Ever since the day that I spotted I felt like I really was pregnant. I had full on cramping with the bleeding that day. My cervix was low. And then just like that it stopped and my cervix went high. I thought could it be? Really? I felt like it was all just… right. I convinced myself that it was really possible, that this was when things would change. I started thinking about how I’d tell Den, how I’d call my parents. I started patting my belly in a different way.

Tonight I just couldn’t take it anymore… I was going to hold out until tomorrow morning, 3 days after the spotting… the same point when I got the BFP with Devin. But I realized I was going to drive myself crazy and work myself up completely.

The whole way home I was thinking about it being negative and how would I feel about that? I know I want so badly to see a positive test, but how can I handle a negative? Finally I decided that it’s going to suck seeing a negative, but it’s better now than letting myself daydream anymore. So I took a test when I got home from work. I felt calm when I dipped it, but my hands were shaking. I set it on the sink to process, then tried to wash my face. I couldn’t stop looking at the test as it developed. I shoved it under a towel while I waited, then fished it out a few minutes later.

There was only one line. No “almost” lines. Clearly negative.

I felt less disappointed than I expected… more stupid because I had actually thought it was possible. I leaned forward and put a towel over my head while I breathed in. “Stupid, stupid,” I muttered. Of course I’m not pregnant. Why did I even think it was possible?

I might re-test in a couple days. Going by my pre-pregnancy cycles my period should be here on thursday or friday, so really now it’s just a waiting game.

I mean, the timing of this cycle would have been… interesting. I could go either way on it really… it might have been comforting to have the timeline follow my pregnancy with Devin. Or it might have been terrifying. I don’t know. And it doesn’t matter, because the choice wasn’t mine to make.

So we continue trying. I keep exercising and losing weight, I make an appointment with the RE, I put in an application for a job, and we just keep waiting, waiting, waiting.

To be honest I was relieved when I thought my period had started at 9dpo again. It was unexpected, early. It circumvented that entire second week of waiting, the worst week. It didn’t allow me the time to start believing that I was pregnant, to start analysing and wishing and imagining the possibilities. There I was, just trying to get through the day feeling sick as hell, and my reaction was just, “Oh not more to deal with right now.” But I was at peace with the outcome.

And then it went away. I’m left feeling sick to my stomach emotionally, running through various refrains of “what if…” I allow myself brief moments of imagining the best possible outcome, then get angry for doing that to myself. Juding from my pre-pregnancy LPs I shouldn’t expect my period until thursday or friday… which was what I was happily trucking along towards before the little AF-fakeout. Now I’m just out of patience. I’m cranky, I’m tired, and I don’t want to be hopeful. Yet I am.

I keep reminding myself that at this point I have no control on the outcome. The one thing I DO have control of, however, is how I handle it. So I’ve starting making a mental list of possibly positive things about getting a negative this cycle. Not reasons that I want it to be negative, but things that, if it were negative, I could use to soothe me from becoming too upset. I keep running them through my head, over and over. “It’s okay, it’s okay. Whatever the outcome, it’s okay.” I’m trying to return to my zen state.

::

And then this morning, when taking my dog out, I checked the mail. Before I describe this, do you remember me talking about the names we’ve picked out for our next child(ren)? Go take a look, trust me. So this morning I check the mailbox and there’s the Sharing Newsletter (from the SHARE organization). I glance at it and something jumps out at me. Take a look. I nearly dropped it.

Seriously? Seriously, life?? Are you fucking with me??

After taking forever to fall asleep thanks to my sore throat and what felt like a fever (even Den said I felt really hot too, so it wasn’t just my imagination) I finally did manage to get a good stretch of sleep in. I woke up feeling a lot better. Not all healed up, but I sound better (I can actually speak – it’s in froggy, but at least it’s not a lot of squeaking), my eye doesn’t look as red, and while I am coughing a lot it’s because my sinuses are finally draining. What a relief! I ended up not going to the doctor, because I know there’s not much they can do for a virus, and since it was already all abating I knew he’d probably just say “drink lots of fluids and get rest.” My eye wasn’t even bugging me all that much today… yesterday’s eye drops and cold compresses seem to have taken care of the discomfort.

I pretty much have to go to work tomorrow for a few hours to do the *required* weekly stuff, and I might stick around just to keep busy. An entire day seems far too long to be awake.

I. Am. Miserable. Today has by far been the worst for this sickness thing, I’m really really hoping it starts getting better from here on out or I may start contemplating stepping in front of a truck. My entire body absolutely hates me. My eye hurts… using OTC eye drops and cold washcloth compresses until I can get into the doctor’s tomorrow. My throat doesn’t hurt so much, which is a huge THANK THE LIGHT, but it’s a tickle that makes me cough constantly. I can only take so many doses of Tylenol Cold (which does wonders for the cough, but wears off far too soon). My stomach was in upheaval all day, though I have no clue if that was due to the hangover, the virus, or what. And now I have a fever. So basically I just lay here moaning for hours. Washcloth pressed to my eye, stomach rumbling in an extremely dangerous and slightly painful way.

Despite the spotting and cramping AF ended up not showing today. I joke that she took one look at what she was entering and said “fuck this!” I say thank you thank you thank you. I’m glad that my body is considering having a more normal LP this cycle. And that it’s not piling on everything at once, because seriously, this is getting really ridiculous.

For two hours I attempted to sleep, but ended up just coughing for most of it and my eye getting more sore than usual, so I gave up on that. I’m now just sitting here propped up in bed, counting down the hours until the doctor’s office opens.

I don’t get sick often… but when I do, my body does it spectacularly.

My period is knocking on the door. I was wondering yesterday why my cervix was really low… I was really starting to wonder if I didn’t ovulate when I thought I did. Today there’s spotting, a good amount of it. No wonder my stomach’s been feeling queasy this morning. It’s early again… about 9dpo, according to the OPKs.

So… I have a sore throat/cough (I pretty much have no voice left), pinkeye (doctor’s office isn’t open until tomorrow, but I’m 99% sure that’s what’s going on), hangover, and now AF coming. Someone please shoot me.

Den’s gone to the store to buy me some medication, which I am going to take and then I’m going to nap. I’m down for the count. I already let work know I won’t be in tomorrow.

My eye has something wrong with it. I don’t know what. I know that I woke up with gunk in my eye, and it hurt, and all day the whites of my right eye was all red. People kept asking me if I was okay. Poor eye. :(

I’m still a little bit drunk, but not as much as I was, so I’m going to try to write stuff now since I can’t sleep (damn eye).

The party actually went really well. We were one of the first ones to get there (as usual), and it was pouring. We waited a while before anyone else showed up! That kind of negated the “big crowd” worries of mine.

I already had a drink in me by the time SIL, BIL and BabyH arrived. Wow, BabyH has changed! SIL said it wasn’t that much, but as someone who hasn’t seen her in 2 weeks? Wow. Cute little chubby cheeks and pouty lips as she slept. She was so sweet, sleeping for most of the party. I didn’t feel too bad, except for the moments when people came over and congratulated SIL, telling her how beautiful her baby was. Just small pangs then. And then I took a big swallow of my drink.

The twins – BIL’s twin girls, 7 years old – were really really sweet. They were calling me Auntie Natalie today, which just made me so happy. I’ve known them since they were 1, but I know it’s been a little confusing for them, as I was just dating their uncle back then. They asked me if I would go swimming with them, and of course I did. I taught them how to dive today. I love to swim, and I love to teach, so I was showing them how to stretch their arms out in front of them and try to go in head-first. One of them got it; the other kept doing belly-flops. It was pretty funny. But they would grab onto my shoulders and I’d haul them around the pool… as weird as I can feel around kids, it’s pretty damn awesome to be someone’s aunt. I’m glad we got to have fun today. Uncle Denis is usually the fun one (which I don’t mind, as – like I said – I can feel rather awkward around kids), and he surely did jump in and carry them around for a while, but I think I scored some cool points today. Yay! Auntie Natalie is COOL!

Someone at the party pulled me aside to say she was really sorry for our loss. I didn’t really know her, other than knowing her from previous parties… she’s friend of a friend. I don’t even remember her name. But we talked for a good long while about stuff. She had to do IUI to get pregnant with her kids, she said, and she remembered how emotionally taxing it was. It was just so nice to talk about Devin, to have someone ask about him and chat a while. It was really really nice.

And then of course later in the evening I was totally toasted and talked with step-MIL and FIL for a while about everything. They are just so great – and I told them so. I got a few hugs. I am so, so thankful that Den’s family is as wonderful as they are. All of them. I know I can just talk about Devin in any conversation and they all totally get it. They know how hard it’s been, and they offer sympathy… but they’re also totally okay with talking about him and stuff when I want to.

Our friend – the one who was hosting the party tonight – has also been really great. She says things like, “I never thought it could happen so late in pregnancy like that!” and “I was just in shock, I just couldn’t believe it!” She’s the kind not to be afraid to say something, so she’ll just say, “Fuck, that totally sucks.” And seriously? That’s one of the most comforting things people can say. Not to try to “explain” it, not to try to be positive, but to just say, “It totally sucks,” and nod their head. I think yeah, they get it. I don’t need waterworks or drama… just someone who seems to understand. That’s all. It’s pretty simple, I guess.

So it was a pretty good night. I only had four drinks and one shot and I was totally drunk. Den drove home (designated driver!) and I was basically falling asleep against the truck door. When we got home I told him to put the sheets in the dryer… then I fell asleep on the bare mattress. LOL! Just kind of keeled over and though “well this is fine.” I remember stumbling to the bathroom at some point… I couldn’t even read the clock because it kept going fuzzy and blurring on me. I always find it hysterical when I’m drunk… I don’t do it too often so it’s just way too funny. I enjoyed myself. And of course now that the fresh clean sheets are on the bed I can’t fall asleep. Figures.

Den’s mom is coming over tomorrow and I’m looking forward to visiting with her for a while. Next week, whenever I’m feeling better, I’m going to go over to keep SIL company and visit with BabyH. It’s not nearly as hard as I was fearing.

Also, in other fun news, I am getting sicker. Light buzz in the background? Not so much anymore. Last night I could barely swallow because it hurt so much every time I tried, today my sinuses are clogged so I can hardly breathe, and the combination makes me sound like a frog. I’m using some Tylenol cold and cough syrup stuff that seems to work well, but I think the length of time the effects last gets shorter each time.

And now? Late at night? My stomach is upset. Very upset. Lots of gurgling and gas and it’s actually moderately painful at times.

Sleeping is very difficult when you can’t breathe, can’t swallow, and your stomach is rumbling aggressively. I’m actually not quite sure how I’m going to manage this.

Ugh, I hate this! I very rarely get sick, so when I do I’m not just miserable, but I’m pissed off!

I had been really looking forward to the fourth of july party (which takes place on the fifth). It’s a yearly event at a friend’s place, a huge party with lots of food, drink, entertainment, a pool to swim in, and many friends. I have some vodka and kahlua left and I was eagerly looking forward to using it all up – and then some. And just having a good time. Out with the adults, forgetting my life.

Then yesterday Den mentioned offhand that SIL, BIL and BabyH would be there. I remember her mentioning two weeks ago that they were going to come. Usually I love seeing them.

But suddenly it all crashed down on me. This party, this big yearly event… I had been saying my entire pregnancy how this year we’d be bringing a baby. I was so excited. This was the year it was all going to be different… a family, with a little one to splash in the pool. I was so very excited to show him off and just enjoy a simple day out like I had been dreaming off for years. I had even mentally put aside an outfit for him – a gift outfit, which I wasn’t sure if he would fit into yet. A baseball outfit. Daddy’s All Star.

That won’t be happening now. SIL and BIL will have their new daughter to show off. Everyone will be ooing over the newborn. I can handle seeing them, I can handle seeing the baby, but I cannot handle seeing everyone fawn over the baby. That is absolutely the thing I have dreaded most about BabyH’s arrival, and why I timed our visits not to coincide with crowds. I can’t handle that, I just can’t.

The last party, a few weeks ago, we saw some friends of ours whom we haven’t seen in half a year. Friends who last saw me pregnant; friends who obviously knew what happened. But they didn’t say a word. Yes, they greeted me with, “How are ya?” which might have – or might not have – been an inquiry into my state of things. But it very likely was just the same greeting I get every time. And I know I shouldn’t blame people for not wanting to bring it up, but there is something so damn frustrating about having people KNOW and yet not acknowledge it. At that same party someone I barely know asked if we have any kids yet, and I quietly told him what had happened. He seemed quite upset, said he was sorry. Was it emotional to tell the story? Yes. But even that was easier than not having said anything at all.

I’m fine with answering direct questions, even ones from people who know nothing and are hardly expecting the kind of answer I give. But I guess I just don’t know how to bring it up. “Hi. Yes, my baby died, I’m okay talking about it,” seems a little… crude.

So I fell apart tonight a little. It all just came bubbling up from the depths, crying for what should have been. It’s been weeks since I really cried… I think I needed it. There’s only so much I can do just holding it together, getting through the daily shit. Some days, some nights, I just have to scream inside my head a little, wishing my life were different. I still find myself wishing fervently that we could go back and fix this… wishing I would wake up now. I’m supposed to be holding a baby with chubby little arms and legs, soft skin, downy hair. MY baby. My own. I’m supposed to be joyful and fulfilled. I am not supposed to be looking forward to a party so I can get drunk and forget all about the last shitty 4 months of my life.

It all just seems so fucking unfair I can’t even stand it. And it feels, too, like I’m dealing with two separate griefs piled on top of each other: the grief of having lost a son that I carried in my womb for 8 months, a boy with personality, a name, a future. And also the grief of this being another year of being childless, another year spent wondering if we are ever going to have this which we want so desperately. The loss and the infertility. I can handle either separately… but both together feels like far too much. Too much for any one person. I can deal with this loss if I knew I was going to be pregnant again soon, to have another chance… but there are no guarantees. Not for anyone, certainly not for an infertile.

Childless, not pregnant, and desperately missing my son. Happy July 4th to me.

Today I got in the mail a notice from FirstCandle that several online friends of mine made a donation to stillbirth research in Devin’s memory. Thank you, girls!! I have looked at March of Dimes, knowing that many people choose to donate to them. I was looking for something that did more for stillbirth reserach, however. And you girls seem to have found what I was looking for, without me saying a word. That means so very much.

::

I’ve been thinking about my SIL a lot. I haven’t talked to her since the last time I went over there, which was over 2 weeks ago. At first it was because I wanted to give them space… then I realized I needed to give me space. It was a heck of a lot easier on me to just not think about them. I tried hard those first two weeks of BabyH’s life… I tried really hard. I got through it, I dealt with a lot of grief issues, I cried a lot. And then I just needed a break.

But now I’m feeling guilty. I know they understand why, but… I’m sad. SIL is a friend and I don’t like avoiding her. Of course today, the day that I start really feeling like I could or should go over there I can’t – I’m sick. No going near baby. So I’ll just have to wait a little longer.

::

I’m in a kind of crappy place of thinking maybe I am pregnant. I say crappy because what I REALLy want to do is shove my fingers in my ears and say LALALA until such time as I get a positive pregnancy test and can celebrate. Until that point all I have to look forward to is the building hope every cycle, and then the punch in the gut at the end of it. I’d found a nice zen place to be, but it’s getting harder and harder to just let it go. I WANT this. And when you WANT something it hurts when you don’t have it. Sometimes I really hate hope.