The day after failure - a backdated post

Here is another backdated post. Sorry if all this is depressing. I really have gotten beyond all this by now and I'm feeling a lot better. I feel like keeping these unposted is unhealthy somehow. I guess it's necessary like emotional vomit.

And thank you so much for your comments. I'm really touched.

Tuesday, November 21st

Today, one day later and another night of restless sleep. It is very hard getting out of the bed. My legs feel like weights were attached to my feet as I slept. The effort at swinging them over causes me to actually groan out loud. Little S comes and offers me two broken potato chips, food left over from last night impromtu dinner. He looks at me remarking with his soulful little baby eyes that something is not quite right. Maybe all that strong holding, hugging and kissing yesterday had something to do with it. Definitely the tears and puffy eyes were something un-mommy like. I am a bad mother. I find it impossible to dash off into another room and let my emotions pitter patter out onto a kleenex. Everything is raw and right there. I am in no shape to hide behind the bathroom wall for ten minutes, every ten minutes. It's just too much and it comes up too quickly. I don't often see it coming until it hits me like a runaway train.

Little S and I stumble through breakfast and still the tears flow, dripping into a cup of coffee I make to give me something to do. Why is it that everything is so much more painful in the morning? Why is so much amplified upon waking?

The storm is bringing thunder and overcast skies. I feel utterly despondant. My neighbor fraps at the door and I jump, startled at the sound. I am so damned jumpy. "Can he borrow the key for our mutual outdoor passageway so he can move some furniture?" "key..." I think staring off absently. He is asking me something nearly impossible. He is asking me to think. He is asking me to interact. We both look down at a fat blackbird delivered on my doorstep by one of my cats. "How fitting" I say to myself. I give him the key trying to remain composed but knowing full well I look like a refugee suffering through a war. He must have noticed. I do not really care.

Later I call the doctor's office. Can I get the beta a little earlier? Yes I am sure it's not just spotting. Yes it's requiring me to use more than a pnty liner. Can I please have the test a few days early. Thank you. My heart and mind need to put this whole thing to rest. I'm relieved for the opportunity for closure.

Seb calls me back. "You know I was thinking, and I don't know how you feel, but I think we shouldn't give up so quickly." Something inside of me flickers a little. "I think if it's worth having than it's worth fighting for" He says warming my frozen heart just a little. Throwing me the tiniest food pellets of hope. I quickly scarf them down and digest them before he has time to throw any more. "That is unless you want to stop." His voice lowers when he says this and I am quick to say "No, we can't stop." What I feel like saying is "...it won't let me stop" but if I say this it will be necessary to explain the it. The it which is elusive and difficult for even me to understand. The it that is in the heart of every woman who ever longed for a child. The it that is causing all this pain right now.