Why do I torture myself? Why do I POAS when I know, I KNOW that it’s going to be a BFN? Why do I POAS when it seems so obvious, when my tempts have been shit and my boobs only finally got sore yesterday, and there are hardly even any would-be-symptoms to lead me on? Why do I let that small spring of hope bubble up only it can be buried in the filth of reality.
That reality that I am not pregnant.
I knew this cycle wasn’t going to work, even before the TWW mercifully proceeded with no signs to suggest otherwise. I just knew, after that shit show of delayed ovulation that this wasn’t going to be the one.
Every time I checked my chart and was reminded of this cycle’s start date, was reminded that this cycle began on my super shitty birthday, it punched me again in my gut. But from somewhere within that tender, bruised place a seed of hope grew, hope that maybe BECAUSE this cycle started on my birthday, this would be the one. I mean, how cool would it be when I was asked the date of my last menstrual cycle to say July 17th and then quietly proclaim, it was my birthday and then we could exchange all manner of cute little quips about that period secretely being the best birthday present ever and we’d have a jolly old time.
And that crappy birthday would become the best birthday, and all would be right in the world.
Because in this twisted place, these kinds of ridiculous dreams seem totally acceptable. Reasonable even.
And I wonder if that stupid scene, flashed subconsciously every time I checked my chart, was really enough to plant the seed of hope in what otherwise felt like a completely wasted attempt.
In bed this morning I stared at the stark white pee stick way longer than I should have. Then I let that feeling of failure wash over me. Then I cried silently to myself, without waking Mi.Vida. Then I turned over and tried to fall back asleep.
I types this against the background sound of Isa playing with her toys, reading them stories and explaining to them the ways of the world (“Hey llama, hey llama, he give Big Bird a KISS!”) and I am convinced my suspicions are correct. I am not even a good enough mother to the child I have and I have absolutely no right coveting another one. What would I do if I had a baby right now? Ignore it to write some sad diatribe about something else?
My daughter is playing right now and I could be with her, soaking her in, but instead I’m in here writing about the other baby I can’t seem to have. What is wrong with me?
I type these words here, trying desperately to package my sadness, to contain it in this space, to set it down somewhere so I might go about my day without the weight of it. I tie it up in metaphor and expression in an attempt to subdue it, to keep it from overtaking me. Maybe if I write about here, if I acknowledge it with these 500 or so words, give shape to it on the page, it won’t remain an amorphous melancholy, capable of infecting my whole day.
Maybe. I guess all I can do is write and hope.
Stumbling Gracefully 
I think that coming here to write about your problems and having an outlet online for the struggle you are currently going through, makes you a good parent. So many people hold these things in and take them out on their children, usually subconsciously. You have obviously done a good job if Isa is capable of playing alone and explaining the world to her toys. Just keep doing the best you can, that is all that you can do.
I Love that you use this space to exorcise the dark shit that comes up around ttc and infertility. I also love that you’re willing to express the stuff that a lot of other moms don’t, e.g the feeling that you’re not a good enough mother as-is, and that you worry having another child wouldn’t solve anything. I think most mothers hold themselves to an impossible standard, but many don’t talk about it. Rather than perceiving this blog as negative expression, I see this as you giving a voice to what a lot of women already feel. I work as a therapist with pregnant moms, new moms, women who lost babies, etc. I often tell my ladies about the 80/20 rule, which is that as long as you do a Good (not super, not stellar, not perfect, not even inspiring) job with your children 80 percent of the time, you’re allowed to TOTALLY suck at it 20 percent of the time and have your kids’ needs still fully met. My therapist told me this years ago when I was having anxiety about being a sucky NANNY. (Talk about high/anal-retentive standards! They weren’t even my own kids, and I was in therapy to process whether I was doing a good enough job. Hahaha.) Anywho, thanks for sharing!
I am very sorry. I cry every time I start without fail and it is a total shit day no matter how honest with myself I was about the likelihood of my knocked upedness. Still breaks my heart.
Sending light and love.
The reality is you have to mourn … and you need that time to do so. Isa is OK. She WAS playing happily without you. You’re not a bad mom, because you’re not neglecting her. You’re taking care of yourself … which you need to do in order to take care of her. So funny that Amelia wrote about the 80/20 rule after my husband guest posted about it just the other day … though I don’t think that you totally suck at mother hood at ALL.
I’m so sorry that this cycle was a bust ,even if you were sure that was going to be the case.
We’re meaning-making creatures, and the loveliness of the story that would-have-been – that’s a real loss and part of the grief of teh bfn.
I second what Justine said.
HUGS I totally understand how you feel, I always think about a 2nd child , yet here I am with Lil M… it is so tough for us IFers isn’t it 😦 HUGE HUGE HUGS xoxo