Crazy little thing called life

"Even as your body betrays you, your mind denies it." ~Sara Gruen, Water for Elephants

Wow, it has been a while since I have posted. I have had a crazy life since Henry was born! I have not completely disappeared though. I've been writing posts over at Grammy's Essentials.

I don't want to sound like a broken record, I promise I do other things besides worry about my reproductive health, but it plays a big role in my life. I try not to make it my only topic of conversation with my friends and family, so this blog has pretty much become my safe place to help me think through my emotions on the subject.

It has been a really stressful couple of weeks for me. Just before Christmas I began to have some symptoms of pregnancy. Now, as we have learned, everything can be a sign of pregnancy, and it's SO frustrating. First of all, I skipped my period. That's a pretty sure fire sign of pregnancy. I was moody, extremely tired, headaches, thick discharge (TMI) and the list goes on. I couldn't tell if my boobs were sore or not because I'm still nursing my 13 month old. I didn't tell Cam anything until I was almost a week overdue, I really hadn't thought about it and then I had a lightbulb moment... WAIT... what's going on here?! Cameron and I were not trying to conceive, so it was a complete surprise. It was also an amazing miracle. I mean, if I were pregnant, we would have defied the odds and done the impossible. We were never supposed to be able to conceive on our own.

Once we realized it was an actual possibility that I was pregnant we began to dream and make plans. We talked about how we would change the nursery to accommodate two kids. We talked about what names we would use, and what kind of delivery we wanted. We were both floating on air. Who are we that we were blessed like this? No, we were not exactly ready for another baby, but we were not going to complain.

We decided not to test until after the New Year. That week between realizing I had missed my period and testing seemed SO long. three, four, five days passed, still no sign of Aunt flow. By the time I tested on January 1, I was pretty confident about the outcome. I was almost smug about it. I was just testing for confirmation, because I was pregnant. I peed on the stick and then left the room. I could not sit there are watch it for three minutes. Cam, Henry and I were all brushing our teeth in our bathroom and Cam kept going to the hall bath to see if there were any results yet. I would peek into the door, hoping to read his expression and get the answer I wanted. We were worse than kids on Christmas morning.

As excited and happy as we were one minute, we were equally deflated the next. The test was negative. To go from being absolutely sure you have been part of a miracle to suddenly being pulled back into reality is numbing. I went into my typical defense mode and shut the world off. Cam went into his and began to make rules about the future, "If this ever happens again, I do not want to know about it. I can't stand thinking the best for so long and then being disappointed." Of course, this hurt me, but I know he didn't mean to, and he was hurting too.

It was a miserable day. In an effort to distract ourselves, we started the new year out right and cleaned out a room in the house. It was a great diversion, but could not last long. Before the day was over, I had managed to regain some hope (admittedly with the help of google.) Maybe it was just too early still. That's it, the test was a false negative, and we are pregnant after all. We will test again in a few days. Ever the optimist, I ignored what I knew was the truth and continued to cling to the faintest whisp of hope that I could still be pregnant.

As the days went on I was still having symptoms, including nausea and extreme fatigue. Yesterday, the 4th, I ran errands all day and did some grocery shopping. I was so nauseous in Walmart that I wanted to run out. (JUST like my first pregnancy - that was the first and nearly only aversion I had - Walmart) Feeling positive about my increasing symptoms, I purchased more tests. This time it would work.

I know you are supposed to test in the morning, but that is for very early testing. If you are as far along as I should have been (last period was November 20th, so I would have been almost a month and a half along) a test taken at any time should get the desired results. So, I tested. It was just before bed, and I did sit there and watch it for the whole three minutes. Negative. I was in disbelief, but resigned to it. I just ignored it and continued with my bedtime routine. Cam came in and looked at it and then threw it away for me. No words were spoken, and that was the only acknowledgment that the test was even taken. What was there to say?

This morning I woke up with the worst headache I have had in a very long time. I was miserable. I prayed that Henry would take pity on me and sleep in much later than normal. He didn't. I took care of him and got him his breakfast. While he was occupied I went to the restroom where I immediately discovered why I was feeling so badly. I had begun my cycle. After so long waiting for it, here it was, ugly and raw.

I find it poetic that a tale of heartbreak would end with a bloody, gooey mess. The very thing that is the promise of fertility is to me, the mocking cry of infertility. I am having trouble wrapping my head around why my body would betray me like this.