The weather is awful outside. Warm, humid, wet, foggy, gray. You can't see much in front of you and everything is shrouded in an ugly, gauzey haze.
It feels appropriate.
Another negative test, another tiny temp drop, and even though there are so many statistics and symptoms to give me hope, I feel it in my gut. I am not pregnant.
This morning, as I showered after watching for a second line in vain, I thought, "That's ok." I talked to myself and pointed out all the reasons that is good. We have a lot of credit card debt and now another month to pay it off. I am still overweight and my eating of late hasn't been terrific. Another month after the holidays to get back on track, get back in routine and lose some more weight. Drinking a hot toddy on Christmas Eve, mimosas at Christmas breakfast, wine with Christmas dinner and the ability to toast in the New Year with Asti Spumunti rather than sparkling white grape juice. Not having to be a nervous wreck and keep it secret during the holidays with our families. Not having to tread down the path of pregnancy and miscarriage fears again soon.
I felt nearly positive. Disappointed, but calm.
And then we went outside and my carefully constructed illusion of bravery collapsed. I am feeling bitterly sad, and hopeless. I don't want to do this anymore. I don't have an off switch to stop obsessing about things. It is bearable for awhile, but then it's too much. The bleak prospect of many more, unknown quantity of months of this nonsense stretching in front me makes me want to curl up in a ball and sob.
I thought of how I should be 16 weeks pregnant today, looking forward to my big ultrasound, joking about the sex of the baby, and I feel so angry that that is gone. I feel so scared that I will never be there. I feel like this is all my fault and that I'm broken. I know how common miscarriage is, and I know how many women have miscarriages and healthy children, but I have no reassurance that I will ever be pregnant again or that baby will be healthy and now this beautifully timed cycle and lovely chart are going to waste.
I know I don't know that 100% for certain yet, but as I said. Deep down, I feel it. I feel that if I were going to get a positive, I would have by now. Even though 50% of women don't yet - I feel I should have.
I know I get depressed before my period comes. I expect that is the biggest contributer to this excessively emo post. But I feel so low right now, so tired and so hopeless. Like such a failure.
And I feel guilty. I feel guilty because I know how self-indulgent I am being. My friend just lost her baby. Another friend has a threatened miscarriage. A third friend is facing bed rest and pre-term labor, while another is coping with crippling morning sickness (and the threat of hyper-emesis gravidarum) and a high-energy toddler. I have a wonderful, supportive loving husband, my health, the ability to pay my bills and put food I like on the table. I have a good family and a secure job with room for growth and a lot of opportunities. I have love and friendship. And I'm complaining and depressed because I don't have the thing I want the most right now. And I feel guilty. But like I said previously - I do not have an off switch, and I don't know how to snap out of it or just cheer up.
I wish this day were over and this week were over. I wish I felt moved by the Christmas spirit. I wish I felt something other than a deep desire to sleep for days.