A Fresh Start

Day One of the new year, Day One of a new cycle. That's suiting.

I guess I caused quite a stir when I posted how hard this is for me on the boards. I never wanted to make anyone worried about me. I'm not that manipulative, to post a "poor me" post in the hopes that someone will say something nice. I wrote from my heart, when my heart felt like it was breaking. But it does feel nice to know that they were concerned, and the outpouring of encouragement and love was just what I needed to take the edge off this sharp knife.

I've heard it when others have said that this is the hardest thing they've ever had to go through. I've read it in books, and it's made sense to me in a book-learning sort of way. But this time it hit me square between the eyes. It shattered me, and I hate that. I've been walking around all weekend like there's something broken inside of me. All day Saturday, it would hit me that we're still not parents yet, and I'd have to close my eyes and hold my breath to keep from bursting into tears. I lost count of how many times DH asked me how I'm doing this weekend. "Fine," I usually mumbled back at him. Or I just shrugged and looked away.

Why such a deep sense of loss? I haven't lost anything but one more month. Yet I feel like something has been taken from me. My hope, my will to keep going forward with this, my determination that this will happen for us.

But no one has taken that from me. Somehow, I have lost it.

I hope that my resolve, my belief that there is a joyful end to all of this, will return when AF leaves and we can begin to try again.

I feel that what we need to help us all in this process is some sort of ritual. Some formal way of marking time, so that it doesn't drive us crazy. I can handle AF - for me, it's usually only about four days long. Lately, it's been heavy and painful, crampy and bloaty and emotional. But it's only four days. Then I usually take a day to treat myself good, sort of like a cleansing. In Jewish tradition, a woman's period makes her "unclean." In my own faith, "there is neither clean nor unclean," but I do like to feel like I'm cleansing myself of the persistent feeling of "dirty" that comes with AF. I take a long shower, shave what needs shaving, use a special bath soap and poofy sponge. I get a pedicure, sometimes a flower on my big toe. I get my eyebrows waxed. I use a facial mask, I do my hair, and I wear undies that I don't wear when they could get ruined during that week. I make myself purty, so that I can feel purty again.

That's good for a day or two. Then the WTO begins. Is there some kind of ritual I can come up with for this time? I can occupy my time with reading my CM and CP, futzing with the monitor, analyzing my OPKs. This time, I'm going to be taking my temperature as well, see if there's a pattern there despite sleeping with an electric blanket. WTO is almost as hard as waiting to test, because I'm never sure if I'm going to or not.

Of course, the BD fest takes on a ritualistic air sometimes. Sex for fun is a bonus at that point, great if it happens, not really mattering if it doesn't, because all that matters is timing. If I actually Ovulate, that's enough of a turnon for me. "Okay, it's time, let's go" takes the place of foreplay, and cuddling after is more about staying in bed so "the boys" can sink in.

Don't get me wrong - I love my husband, and we enjoy each other. But when it's scheduled, and when you have a specific goal in mind, it does become a bit ritualistic.

Then the TWW. Then the OWW. I definitely need a ritual for this time. Last month, I POAS from 6DPO until AF came. I got excited when I saw a faint line, even though it didn't appear until after the time on the test had expired. I have mixed feelings about the digital HPTs. On the one hand, it's nice to get a clear reading. On the other, seeing "not pregnant" was worse than just not seeing a line. Not seeing a line, I can pretend that it's just too early, it's just not there yet. But having it literally spelled out for me, well... That's just kind of harsh.

I'll have to think about it. A ritual to pass the time. Some way to mark the significance of what's going on, without getting too wrapped up in it. A way to stay hopeful and eager without jumping the gun and testing too early, and then having my soul absolutely crushed when a new cycle begins again.

And of course, the start of a cycle, the onset of AF, has it's own ritual. Tears, a glass of wine, cookies or a slice of cheesecake, and going to bed early.

Perhaps my ritual is going to the boards. I find people who are discouraged that need a lift. I find that I actually know the answers to some of these questions, and that I still have questions of my own. I see others going through the same things I am, at the same time, and I feel so much less alone. I know that when I cry, another is crying too, for herself and for me, as I cry for myself and for her.

This is a horrible, horrible road. There's not much good can be said about IF. But at least I am not alone.