I guess you can probably anticipate a bender if you see someone pulling estrogen patches off in the liquor store.
They seriously took me by surprise. Sorry little remnants of this routine we had been dutifully doing for the last two weeks. Same with the alarm on my cell phone that was still set to remind me to take my afternoon pills. What the f....oh, I know what that is. By the time M and I made it to the store, its like we had already erased the possibilities and hopes we had been harboring. Nurturing. Allowing to grow.
Feeling the patches on my belly felt like a slap.
So how do I respond to any perceived insult or injury? Aggressively, of course. Liquor store first. Happy Hour next. One of our BFFs of all time joined us and helped us down huge plates of irish nachos and onion rings (you can't drink on an empty stomach, right? That would be irresponsible!) After another stop or two, we ended the night at the pizza shop - the one that has seen us drunk and speaking spanish, has seen me pregnant, me not pregnant, me post pregnant, me thinking I was pregnant but really not. Honestly, this little hole in the wall has witnessed all phases of our lives. So its good that the pizza is probably the last thing M remembers.
Oh poor M.
He's working all day today. Working through his hangover and with a colleague he absolutely cannot stand. I'm picturing him in his cubicle, earphones on, daring anyone to come near. Working through it. That's all he can do.
Me, I'm trying to figure out how exactly I feel and the best I can come up with is nothing. I feel nothing.
M said something so profound on the way to the RE yesterday. He said the last two weeks have been wonderful. With their shots and inconveniences and various appointments, still wonderful. Like we both remembered what it was like to be happy. To let just a bit of hope into our lives again. That's something we can't forget. That hoping feels good. Even when its not enough to make something happen.
If I let it, the anger, the sorrow, the general pissed off at the world seeps in. But god, that just feels awful and unsustainable. And I know furrowed brows have increased my wrinkle count this year. Shit! I will not be ushered so easily into botox! Must. Not. Furrow!
So, I'm gonna go shower now. Maybe clean up the apartment. Because I can. Heavy lifting and all. And then perhaps, just maybe, I will go for a run. After the headache wears off, of course.
Thinking of you my friend... Big love and hugs to you both xxx
Oh M... I am glad you had that bit of hope, like a breath of necessary air when floating in a stormy sea. But damn it, this was suppose to work. I am so sorry.
I did involuntarily laugh when I read the line about yanking the patches off at the liquour store. I promise if I ever see that in real life, I'll buy the next case of whatever they are buying... but you hit my strange sense of humor with that line.
Oh I am thinking of you both. Will the 4 day weekend help or hurt?
Oh no. Damnit.
I'll buy the case after Clare's.
I'm so sorry. Keep going, that's all I can say. Even though it feels like 20 steps back...
I'm so sorry about the negative - for both you and M. I know you'll make it to the other side eventually, but I had hoped it would be with this cycle. Hang in there and don't give up.
so sorry for this negative. it never gets any easier to hear that news and to feel all the plans drain away. do what it takes to find a way back to 'ok'.
Well, feck. I'm sorry.
I can't think of a more fitting way you two could have spent the day.
And I hate what today holds for M. And I super admire that you are even considering moving from the sofa :) I'm not sure I would.
M's words re the last two weeks really spoke to me. I hadn't thought of it before, and I suspect it's something only fellow IFers can understand, but it does make total sense. As heartbreaking as treatment usually is, there is something to just going through the motions. I've never been able to put my finger on what it is exactly, but M's probably right - it's hope.
I'm so proud of you two for having hope. I'm I'm so incredibly sorry that that hope wasn't enough to make something happen. Try to hang on to it though, honey - hope, and each other.
Aw man. I'm so sorry to hear your news. That sucks.
I'm so sorry. I would have hit happy hour, nachos and pizza too. In fact, I think I have done some version of that after every bfn. Thinking of you and M...
Hi, I am just catching up with you and your so painful news. I am so so sorry. That is so f. Ing unfair and rotten. Sorry about hubby's hangover. Indulge in all the food, drink and tv that you need. (((hugs)))
Oh how I feel like I could have written your post on a certain level. *huge hugs*
There are no good words--I'm just sending love.
I absolutely think that the first line of this post should be the first line of your memoir.
I wish there were some virtual way to buy you a drink when you were on your bender. Like all of the sudden the bartender comes over and says, "This one is on Angie. Then, this one is on clare..." I'm sure you would have been drinking for a few weeks though.
No words about the negative, just a ton of love. Xo
i completely understand where you are coming from, because i have been there. it is so frustrating and completely horrid that those missing pieces in our lives are not even close to anything we need or want in our lives. for me, it made me angry that i had ever wasted a moment wondering or spent any energy at all on them. i am sorry that it was not all a great experience. it is wonderful that some good came out of it, so hold onto that good and let the bad go (i know way easier said than done.)
someone told me, at the time of my meeting, something that helped me really put things into perspective. "don't hate it for what it isn't, just love it for what it is."
I just wanted to let you know that I am listening
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