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.

Ghost Story

I don't really like halloween. And not just because it's one of the many holidays that is way better if you have kids. To this day my dad still tries to get me to drive the 300 miles to my home town to carve pumpkins - and I know that if I have to say no it pretty much squelches any hope he had of actually 'celebrating' the holiday.

I don't like it also because I feel like dressing up as an adult can be somewhat tacky and because I HATE to be scared and I don't like to think about death and ghosts. I don't like that it gives certain teenagers (and adults) a chance to legitimately roam the streets drunk until dawn causing all kinds of mess and destruction. And I'm tired of being made fun of for dressing up my dogs 'cause I don't have kids. Thank goodness for the singular most awesome of redeeming values of this holiday - chocolate! Otherwise I'd outright hate halloween.

Ever since last year I have had an even deeper, darker disdain for the holiday. I think I've told this story before. But for those of you who haven't heard this particular 'ghost story' I thought today would be a particularly apt time to tell it. It was my September '08 cycle and at the beginning of October I had just gotten a very faint maybe BFP on TWO different tests and was at R!te A1d getting more tests and picking up a healthy pregnancy magazine. This A-hole jumped out from behind an aisle as I was standing in line, yelled "gotcha!" and grabbed my shoulders. My heart leapt right out of my chest and all I could think about was goddamnityouassholei'mpregnant! I was startled right out of my wits. And I was angry beyond words. What could the stress have done to my maybe-pregnancy?? I hadn't even seen the guy since he came up from behind but he congratulated himself on finding a pretty scary ghost mask, didn't I think? It was one of those Scre@m replicas. I couldn't speak. I was so angry. Who the F did he think he was scaring a complete stranger, touching a complete stranger, not to mention what an idiot for thinking his mask (wich I hadn't even seen) had had the intended effect. The next day, some of you will remember, the HPTs came out stark white.

I don't know if the original lines had been evap lines, but i don't think so 'cause they were pretty colorful to be evap lines. And I don't know if I would have had a chemical pregnancy anyway...but I'll always wonder. And I'll always hate the ignorance and idiocy of people like that guy. Halloween just seems to bring it out in people.

Maybe some of you are thinking "bah humbug" and to some extent that's exactly how I feel. If halloween disappeared tomorrow never to return I'd be fine with it. But ask me again when (if) I have kids and I'll probably feel much differently.

The Fourth

The weekend went by without any tears and without too much angst. Our friends' baby was impossibly cute, all 30 hours of him, and I can't count the number of innuendos that were made regarding how it's time for me and DH to get one too. But a good time was had by all, and I was able to distance myself - most of the time - from all the parenthood that was going on around me. And from the what-if's. I was able to take in the hints that it's time for me and DH to get going in large part because it's looking like we do have an estimated date of resuming TTC. But there were times when I felt my heart drop a good ten inches. For example, my mom was talking more with the new-mom friend than with me and DH. She even got their baby a little gift - for no reason other than she was excited to have a baby to buy something for. We've known these friends for ages and all it takes is one sperm and one egg and all of the sudden our friends have more in common with my parents than they do with us. They are 'in the club.' We're not.

There were also the comments. DH was accusing me of not using my new camera enough and the husband in the couple said "I know one way to get her to use the camera more."

And when the dogs' excitement over having a tiny person crawling around on the floor with them became apparent (the baby would crawl towards them with his tiny grippy fingers outstretched toward their ears and as he got closer, the dogs would take the baby by complete surprise with a barrage of kisses all over his face), my dad said "[Fur baby] is going to want one of those now."

DH spent half of our hike carrying the baby in a baby bjorn (it was a long hike and the baby is just about to outgrow the front pack so the guys took shifts) and it was mesmerizing how much fun DH was having and how he lit up the kid's face, swaying this way and that, bouncing around, running after the dogs (the kid loved them as much as they loved him). That stuck like a dagger in the compartment of my heart that still holds a shred of the "that should be us, this should be real."

The weekend was still fun for me largely because my dogs were amazingly well behaved, almost as much fun as the baby, and much easier in all respects. They were SO good with the baby. Which warmed my heart because of how sweet they all were together and then also because it's good to know they'll behave if we ever manage to produce one of those. We also got out a lot - did some serious hiking and beachgoing. The dogs came with us, thank god. They are truly like the bandage that stems the flow of my maternal need and anguish. As long as I have them to focus on, to distract me, to talk about and fawn over, I'm ok. But at one point the new parents each had one fur baby, DH had their baby and I was...alone. And it was hard. I didn't know what to do or how to feel or where to look. It's that loss of control. It's like I'd rather have something to take care of - even if it means endless concern or worry or work - than having nothing at all. Than having there be no point to myself.

I noticed this weekend that I'm getting to a stage where I can really treat my pregnancy like it wasn't meant to be. Which is good considering my due date is in three weeks. And my due date buddy is about to give birth. I really feel like I just was cursed with a medical condition that never would have become a baby anyway and it has simply delayed our start date by a year. Big deal.

However, another thing I learned this weekend was how very badly and truly I want a baby, having gone the full 24 hour routine with one. And how very ready me and DH are for one. And what worries me a bit now ('cause there's always something) is that the anticipation will only build throughout The Wait. And I already have my hopes up so very very high for the next go-round. I hope I'm not dooming myself to disappointment. What if it doesn't happen again so easily. What if something else goes wrong? What if DH has a change of heart in the next five months. What if we can't seem to time things right, TTC was frustrating the first time - I can only imagine how it will be after the year that I've had and the hope that I am placing on this winter when we start to try again. I feel like after all this I deserve to have things go perfectly, so I'm bound to be disappointed. So although I'm emerging from the loss healthfully, I am entering into dangerous territory. I guess whatever goes wrong, I will be able to say that I'm doing all that I can. And that is all I can do. And all that I need to know to have some peace with this journey.