In search of my holiday spirit

I have always loved winter. I was the weird kid who got excited about rain and I still do. I actually prefer winter to summer. And I think it's the combination of the humbling, indulgent, moody weather and the holidays. I love Christmas lights, I love family togetherness, fires in the fireplace, warm clothes, warm drinks. I love the decorations, and remembering the magic of the season from when I was little. Reminiscing with my parents and my sister.

I feel like, since commencing TTC, I have had a new appreciation for the joy my parents must have felt when we were young. A new appreciation for what all those memories mean to them. And I'm sure, even though I think I have a new appreciation, until I have my own kids I probably won't be able to completely relate to or appreciate their experience. And I long for that highest level of understanding and connection with them. I crave it. And I was so close.

So back to my point. Christmas has always been my favorite time of the year. With the exception of last year, when I was valiantly battling morning sickness and pretending to drink and waiting eagerly and anxiously for my first u/s which was scheduled for the day after New Years. I remember thinking - this year is just a blip in a lifetime of amazing holiday seasons, even though I'm spending half of it over a toilet bowl and trying to find ways to avoid family (for fear of giving my secret away), at least I have a new baby to be excited about, it will all be so worth it.

Up until a month ago I still felt excited about the holidays. I felt like there was a serious chance I would be pregnant again and I welcomed that prospect with open arms. I have waited so long for the end of this year, the time when we could try again. I thought maybe being pregnant after our first cycle would numb the pain of the fact that there was supposed to be a little four-month-old with me now. I was supposed to be helping him or her celebrate her first Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas and basking in the extra time with my parents and the pride of being a new mom. Taking some well-deserved time off and dedicating it all to my child.

But now I'm not pregnant and I don't have a baby. And that makes sense since we've only been back in the game for a month, but the void left by the last year is starting to hurt more now that the first cycle ended in disappointment and now that we're inching closer and closer to the holidays. Thanksgiving will come and go another time without resolution of this mess I'm in. So will both of my parents' birthdays, Christmas and New Years and maybe my 30th birthday and my wedding anniversary and my dad's retirement party because even if I do get pregnant in the next month or two I won't be far enough along by the end of the season to have any confidence in it. This is still supposed to be my favorite time of year. There are so many things to enjoy and to be grateful for. But I've noticed an erosion of my passion over the past week - every time I let myself get excited, every time I see a new house with lights strung, there's a little voice in my head saying "Stop it. You don't get to enjoy this. Silly girl. This is for other people to enjoy. Who do you think you are exactly?"

I was pretty bummed out this weekend. I'm not happy. I have so much and I am content in many ways, but I'm not happy. I realize this is selfish of me - I have more than most, I'm blessed and I should just be happy, damnit, but I can't help it. And when DH asked me what was wrong, I couldn't tell him. I couldn't tell him how disappointed I am because I feel like I have fallen behind in life, that I feel lesser than my fertile friends, that I fear not giving my parents enough time to enjoy their grandchildren and giving my kids enough time to know them, that I am stressed about the timing of this cycle, stressed about whether DH will be supportive enough, whether we will be able to time things appropriately with all the visits (and overnights) to relatives houses, whether things have a chance of working out given all the alcohol we'll likely be consuming, stressed about what kind of backlash might happen if I ask DH to 'take it easy' on said alcohol...I have burdened him enough this week, I have got to stop obsessing about this in front of him (if not altogether). I have to stop displaying what a control-freak I am about this process. I think he knew what was wrong anyway. I didn't have to say anything.

To DH's credit, he started talking about "if we have kids" this weekend and corrected himself, changing it to "when we have kids." And he wasn't complaining about it this time, he was talking about what kind of car we would need and where would the dogs fit on the couch? He helped me plan our Thanksgiving trips around our baby dancing, although he then got kind of quiet like the conversation had totally turned him off. Why do I feel so guilty about this? Like I'm allowing it to feed off of our relationship. Like I'm using DH?

I'm getting my beta on Thursday (results Friday). This is the second time I've moved the date up so I'll open up and admit now that I'm a little anxious. Being still convinced that we had a near miss last cycle (i.e. a very chemical pregnancy) makes me wonder if I'm gonna have some strange lingering non-zero beta number which will throw my OBG into a tizzy and scare the s-- out of me and delay our babymaking efforts even further. God please no. Why must I always go to the worst-case scenario? In any event, I want to get the beta over with because if it is zero, which it should be, that will put me one step closer to relaxing, looking forward to the holidays, and getting this cycle and this season started off on the right foot.