Okay, if I really wanted to, I could probably figure out exactly where I am in my cycle by doing a little math and maybe counting on my fingers. But what’s the point? I’m going to start my period early next week, call the clinic, and get started with our one and only IUI, which will probably fail. And then we’ll move on to IVF.
Do I wish for a miracle? Absolutely. Do I think it will actually happen? Uh, no.
I still feel every little twitch and tingle, every gas bubble, and probably invent some mild cramping that doesn’t exist. I still monitor the soreness and size of my boobs, the urgency with with I have to pee and how often, every gurgle of my digestion.
I continue to talk myself out of peeing on things.
I’ve been eating like shit, including a giant Dr. Pepper today, as if to prove to myself that since I am, in fact, not pregnant, it doesn’t make a damn bit of difference what I put in my body.
So there’s that.
And on top of it, the last two days at work–two kids in particular–have been tough.
One of them has some kind of mystery syndrome, which hasn’t been diagnosed or possibly even invented yet. Or cerebral palsy. Or both.
The other likely has autism. Also undiagnosed. Because how do you have that conversation with a family you just met?
These two darling boys have me thinking about all the things that could go wrong. Forget for the moment that if I do manage to get pregnant someday, I will probably be an anxious ball of worry. Even if I do manage to have a healthy, uneventful pregnancy (anyone have some wood I can knock on?), that is not the end of Things That Could Go Wrong.
Sincerity and I often “joke” (okay, only one of us is joking, since she doesn’t plan on having children) that we know too much, and if/when we ever get pregnant/give birth/hold our newborn/raise our kids, we’ll be so anxious about the whole thing that we will inevitably create a self-fulfilling prophecy. And something bad will happen.
This is perhaps my greatest fear. Not that I will be a bad parent or that the act of taking responsibility for another human being will take such of a toll on our marriage that Hubby and I will be doomed to divorce or that my teenage daughter will hate me. No, my biggest fear is something completely outside the realm of my control. Of course.
Mo and Jeanette both had pretty awesome posts about letting go of control, and I aspire to be like each of them in that regard. To be trying, anyway. It’s so, so difficult. And I know you all know this.
So what am I hoping to accomplish with this neurotic, rambly post? What I have come to expect on my darkest days since last December when I first hit the publish button. A little support. Acknowledgement that I’m not the only one who feels this way. Virtual hugs. Whatever you can spare, I’ll gladly accept.