The Good Friday Death of Hope

So, another failed cycle on the clomid. I had the feeling that we hadn't been successful this month ~ funny how you get to know your body so well. I was a week late. Sitting here today I don't know if I feel like starting the clomid again tomorrow. But you and I both know I will.

It's ironic that this happened on Good Friday. The very day that we Christians believe brought hope to the world. And yet my hope has died today. Although, being the good infertile that I am, I'm sure it will rise again.

HB and I had a good night last night. Went to Holy Thursday service kind of together (he sits in the congregation and I sing) and then came home for a very late supper, and good conversation. He rarely says anything less than constructive to me, but asked me last night why I have become so fatalistic and verbal about the possibility that we might not conceive and carry to term. This came from a comment that I made last night that although I had made a hair appointment for Saturday, I was going to hold off on getting colour until my period arrived. Odd how we see things differently. I was saying it in a "I don't want to risk harming a baby" way just in case this period being late actually meant we had a shot of being pregnant. He heard it entirely differently. That I was just waiting for my period to arrive and then I'd make an appointment for colour.

I was thinking this morning about this blog. I don't write often about my infertility any more. I'm not even sure that I think about it all that often any more. Does this mean I'm coming to some peace with it? Or have I started really to walk toward the state of resignation and acceptance? I really don't know where my head is any more. I don't know if it's worth it, month after month.

I feel like I want to focus on getting back into shape, getting some weight off (I've had three days of completely following WW ... have to start somewhere right?), get rid of this stuffed sausage with your skin pulled so tight you feel like it's going to snap feeling, and move back to health. I want to focus emotionally and spiritually ~ deepen in ways that I haven't been of late. I want to spend more time with Mini Me and Frodo ~ focus on that part of my family a bit more. I want to get to know this incredible husband of mine better and more deeply ~ get out of this complacent spot I've been hanging around in.

There. That sounds like a Good Friday plan. I can see the resurrection on the horizon already.

Friday evening addition:
HB's ex in-laws were at Good Friday service today at the parish I sing at. It's not the parish they normally attend and not even near their neighbourhood, but they like the parish priest there. I'm not sure why it bugs me so much, but it does. I feel sometimes that there is no part of our lives that is just ours. That we're always being tested. And I do know that, with the exception of her mother, the entire family is an incredibly judgmental, self righteous bunch. Right now, I feel so physically awful about my appearance that I hate thinking that they were there watching me sing today, judging me.

It seems that she and her family touch so much of our lives. And this is not a small city! But it seems like every time we turn around, they are there somehow. I wouldn't mind it quite so much except that they have not let go of their anger for HB. I'm thinking, grow up and get over it people!!! You raised a prima donna for a daughter ~ she drove him away ~ I have him. End of story.

On the day HB and I went to get marriage license, we were very excited. We went into the office and there was only one other person in the place, whom we sort of noticed but not really, you know? We're at the counter, joking and laughing with the clerk as she runs us through the questions for the license. When she gets to the question "have either of you ever been married before?" HB says, in what I call his big boy outloud voice, "unfortunately yes" and kind of puffs up his chest, turning around to look around the office. Suddenly, his face drops and he spins back around to face me, saying "oh. my. God. That's Knothead's father over there."

Now what are the freaking odds that the ONE person who would be in the office the same day as we are picking up our marriage license would be HB's former father in law?

Amazing.

So on I'll go, accepting that they will be a part of my life forever. Better get used to it I guess.