But just for a couple of days, at the end of a cycle, I'm a whole mess of jibbering blubbering hope. Of course on the surface I am the picture of calm (ahem) but inside my head... peee-ow... stand back.
These are the in between days when there is a tiny possibility of sunshine even though the general forecast is for rain.
I never realised just how much I wanted to be a mother until I finally met the man I wanted to father my children and heard him say, "I think we'd make good parents". I never realised how much I really wanted to be a mother until our baby died and we met our son. I didn't know how much I wanted that life until the point when I was just 7 weeks pregnant with George and dreamed of bleeding and then woke to bleeding.
At 39 I had pushed the thought of mummyhood to the very dusty corners of my mind and covered it over with an old threadbare rug. Mother, baby, parent, father, child, mummy, daddy. And then I met Ray.
At 42, at 13dpo I feel it slipping away. How long do we carry on trying for? Or, how much longer can I cope with trying? Could I cope with not trying? We have another appointment with the fertile nurse in February. I wonder if they can or will help us. We can't afford private treatment so this is it.
I think I'm going to rearrange my blog again. I might change it's title. I'm going to wash the kitchen floor. I should be changing nappies not cleaning out a litter box. Must finish some jewellery. I miss the life we don't have. Rice and veg for dinner. Need to change the bed. Distractions.
These are the ramblings of a premenstrual, hormonally challenged mind and in no way represent said mind's normal state of being. (Well, maybe a teeny tiny bit.) The author is in no way seeking pity but simply spewing said ramblings into space to remove them from the space between her ears. However the odd "Awww" or "Hug" is most welcome.