I guess I’ll just start this post with the word that came to mind this morning upon looking at my negative pregnancy test.

DAMMIT!

I want so much to be a mother.  And with no breakthrough bleeding this cycle, I thought maybe there was a chance.  But no.

And so, my husband has asked that we take a break from TTC during the holidays.  It’s a solid request.  No temperature charting.  No emotional roller coaster medication.  No at home testing. No nightly suppositories. No trans vaginal ultrasounds.  Maybe even slightly less crying from me.

I owe it to him to give him a break.  And I suppose I need one too. It makes sense to do it now, when we have upcoming time off and are, in theory, going to relax.

But I’m also scared that we won’t try anymore ever.  That my husband will be so happy to not have the ups and downs constantly that he’ll say, “Let’s just not do this.”

I tried this cycle, I tried very hard, to envision my future with no children in it.  I tried to imagine what I would do with myself if I could not have a child of my own.  And I know there are a lot of things I could set out to accomplish.  But they all feel hallow without knowing there was a child involved.

So I’m going to try to lay off and relax over the holidays.  But once we get passed New Year’s…… I don’t know what we’re going to do.  I don’t know if we’re going to try Clomid again or maybe try to find the money to at least go with one round of IUI.  Or start looking into adoption.

You know the worst part of all this?  Until my period actually arrives, I still have hope.  I have hope that for one reason or another, I really am pregnant and the test was wrong.  Which is ridiculous and has never been proven true in another case like this one.  But I can’t help it.  Until Aunt Flo arrives, I still have hope.  And it’s the most crushing part of this dance.