I keep saying “I’ve been busy,” but that’s not really the whole story.

I had the day off today, but when I woke up (had to pee so bad I was dreaming about finding a bathroom!) I took a shower, got dressed. I ended up going to Walmart to buy that new blowdryer I needed (thanks for the tip, G! The ionizer ones were wicked cheap, so I got one!). Then I had lunch with hubby. After I got home I ended cleaning the bathroom, vacuuming, doing a load of laundry, cleaning out the sink and running dishes through the dishwasher. Then I watched some Olympics (so sad it’s over, sigh) and played some Warcraft.

That may sound like a lot, but trust me, it’s not. It was just a nice, relaxing, lazy day – without laying in bed feeling depressed.

But I still didn’t post here. Why? Because I don’t have anything to say.

I spent nearly two years prior to getting pregnant watching my cycles: I charted, I counted, I analyzed symptoms. It was fun for a while, then desperate for a while, and then a necessity during treatments. I got pregnant, and with that there were no cycles – but instead I counted weeks, symptoms… I revelled in the details. Then 9 weeks of blankness. No cycles, no pregnancy, and it seemed like no time. It all ceased, frozen. But inevitably it started up again. For the past three+ months of cycles I’ve fallen back into my old pattern. Counting days, wondering, hoping, waiting. Believing it was possible.

I don’t anymore. It is obvious to me that I have completely surrendered, white flag in the air. I know in my heart this is not going to work without IVF again. It’s one thing to think it might be… to know your chance is low. It’s another to truly give up.

Don’t feel like you need to give me new hope. It’s okay. I have plenty of hope for IVF. I am waiting more or less patiently for my chance. With my job and my insurance means that it will happen for us again. It’s just that I am no longer sitting here waiting for a miracle to happen in the meantime. It’s not going to happen. I’ve accepted that.

And you know… I’m kind of relieved. Relieved that I don’t have to wonder. Relieved that I don’t have to plan sex and keep track and maintain hope anymore. It hurts to carry that torch. It’s physically painful. Every month the disappointment, like a wall falling on me. Every time. Knowing I shouldn’t feel so hopeful, but carrying that hope anyways. Feeling like I should hang on, that maybe this time will be different.

This is a respite. It’s a breather, a pause button on life. I did not decide to take a break. I did not call up some sort of willpower to stop obsessing and wondering and watching. It just came. And I invited it in to stay a while.

I wait.