I have opened a wordpress window to write something four or five times now over the course of the last week and a half. I feel compelled to say something . . .to connect . . .but I don’t know what to say.
Today is cycle day 26, 12 days past ovulation. I am spotting. I am almost sure I am not pregnant. I am not having cramps or the miserable wretched brattiness that usually hits me about this time of my cycle. I am grateful for these changes in the way my body handles its hormones, because its probably a good sign overall. I’m still morose that we didn’t get the hail mary pregnancy I was hoping for. I love an underdog story and it would have been such a good one.
I’m grasping at the good things that are here: a shorter cycle means fewer days until we try again, less pain throughout my cycle, improved moods, more chances to get back to running. Ultimately it doesn’t matter whether you thought it would happen or not, taking a chance and not having it work out sucks. It just sucks.
Its funny, though, the way my mind works now. Even though this morning when I checked my cervical fluid there was definitely a lot (not a little) blood and my temperature went down quite a bit and I just don’t think being pregnant is at all likely, there is still this little voice inside of me that says, “maybe.” Maybe the blood is from implantation and maybe the temperature is only low because the cold I have is keeping my mouth open when I sleep and maybe maybe maybe . . .Crazy scenarios happen in these moments. But they aren’t grandiose. They are the mindless musings I have while I eat my yogurt.
I don’t feel hopelessness drop anchor in my stomach now when I see the blood or feel the cramps or anything else. I observe it and check it off on the long list of maybe/maybe not and I continue to toy with the insanity that is now part and parcel of who I am. I live in the simultaneous disbelief in ever being pregnant and the mundane irrational hope that I am pregnant in spite of clear evidence that I am not.