"I'm not gonna blow any sunshine up your ass," she says, as I try not to cry. I tell her I appreciate it. And I do. She's returning my call from this morning, reporting in. She's in the car, on the way to the airport to pick up her oldest friend, visiting her to meet the baby.
She agrees when I say, Yes it's still early, anything could happen. But it doesn't look good.
And here come the tears.
I also have great friends. Thanks for cursing the universe for me. Keep it coming.
I knew all along that we would likely not get pg on the first cycle.
But I was hoping.
Goddammit, I was hoping.
And all along, I knew I'd be crushed when it didn't happen. I had no coping plan in place. (Besides my usual compulsive purchasing of sheets, of course. Though, the timing sucks and we shouldn't blow money right now on ego-soothing shopping sprees. Maybe next week, but not now. Which totally negates the point of retail therapy.)
So, I'll eat. Compulsively. Sugar soothes me, too. Told A that I went out and bought all kinds of nosherie that are *not* on the plan (WW). "Screw the plan," she says. Yeah, I laugh. All kinds of plans get screwed, right?
I think part of what's upsetting me (aside, obviously, from not being pg) is that I seem to have forgotten that I'm infertile. I mean, who am I to get pregnant on the first try back in the process? And I am, after all, 39 -- eggs don't last forever. And lord knows how welcoming my uterus is, anyway. Especially after all it's been through.
Why should it be easy? Why should the plan work now, first shot, when it never did before?
I have such a headache. Where are those chips?
Well, I am not going to grade papers this weekend. That's pretty much for sure. At least not tomorrow, anyway.
What are you folks up to this weekend?