On Sunday morning when The Man and I talked about our new "plan," I had no idea what this week would bring. How could I? I mean, I'm the girl who barely sees P+14 most cycles, with the occasional tease of a P+16.
So many reasons to not hope:
We only used 1 day before and then peak day.
I got a UTI as a result of peak day, so I was put on antibiotics.
I only took one dose of HCG on P+3 (I had forgotten to reorder in the UTI craziness, and I just didn't care, because I was sure we wouldn't have conceived b/c of the UTI).
On Mother's Day, P+14, my usual spotting started.
On P+17 I had a BFN.
The spotting stopped.
And the cramping started. And stopped.
And I woke up on P+17.
I had blood test.
And I went to bed on P+17.
And I woke up on P+18.
And that is when it really happened.
Yesterday morning, I really let myself go there mentally and emotionally and, well, see:
When I got dressed for work, I picked out a new dress so that when I came home and got to tell The Man I would look extra nice.
I realized it was a Thursday, the day my spiritual director is in our offices and planned to tell him by asking him to do the blessing for a child in the womb.
I planned to tell my boss by telling her that the jokes we made yesterday about her needing to keep January & February clear next year were a reality.
I planned to write my Dad a letter from the point of view of a grandbaby explaining why I would still be going to Cedar Point but I wouldn't be riding all of the rides.
I thought how we'd go visit my in-laws and tell them, since my MIL reads here occasionally and I wouldn't want her to find out about a new grandbaby on the blog.
I thought back over the past 2 1/2 years and I wished I'd been a bit more open about our infertility, that I'd not kept quite as quiet as I have.
I thought about how I would text and email friends before I posted anything.
Yes friends, I let myself go there. In my mind and heart, for a few hours this morning, I was pregnant.
And then, in the middle of a meeting, AF started and I felt my heart break into pieces like I've never felt. I got hot and felt light-headed and needed to get some water, if only to stand up and be able to take a deep breath without being obvious.
When I got back to my office, I emailed my boss to update her and ask for her prayers. I replied to a couple of texts and I updated here and in the FB group. And I fought back tears like I have never fought them back before.
I went to Mass at lunch, then to a lunch meeting with a group. I laughed and chatted, while all I really wanted to do was close the door to my office and cry.
Later in the afternoon, my spiritual director stopped in and asked how I was. And while I knew he was just being social, I couldn't help it. The events of the week tumbled out of my mouth and he listened. Kindly and patiently. And when I was finished, he gave me a hug, said he was sorry and that he would pray for The Man and me.
I made it all the way until I got in the car for my commute home and then I finally lost it. I think I cried the entire hour and 15 minute drive.
I finally told The Man about the events of this week. I thought I made it clear I wasn't pregnant, but apparently I didn't right away and for a split second he thought he was a daddy. The ONE thing I didn't want to happen this week, getting The Man's hopes up and having to disappoint him, and I couldn't even get that right. While it was only a brief second, I felt so bad.
I emailed this to a friend in the midst of my P+17 hope:
I have also found that hope, even when unrealized, is good for the soul. It brings life and light to fear and darkness. At least that is my experience. I've learned to let myself ride the hope wave (while being realistic) and to accept the crashing that comes with it - for even in the crash of waves there is beauty, sometimes it just hurts.
I am grateful for the hope I felt this week, but right now, it just hurts.