Day for Mothers

So Mother's Day was pretty great, even though I am not a mother - yet. I've seen some posts online about how Mother's day make women who are TTC sad, angry. I can empathise with how they must feel. It is hard knowing that something you want so badly, is something that falls into other people's laps with little to no effort. Once a year I really like to appreciate my Mom, my Grandma, My Mother-in-Law, my mamma friends. Of course, I appreciate them way more often than this, but one day per year is all about them.

DH and I work up early on Sunday and got our workout gear on. We laced up our shoes and put our timing chips and numbers on. We headed down to one of the malls and proceeded to arrange ourselves in the crowd at the starting line, for the Mother's Day Walk & Run to support the local NICU and the tiny babies who need our help. Having never had a tiny premie baby (and hoping that I never know that pain myself) I figure it's the least we could do.

This was our first official run. We chose the 5k. The rain made it somehow more pleasant as we knew we wouldn't overheat, but the humidty was another story entirely. My asthma started acting up and I felt like I couldn't breathe. I took four puffs of my inhaler thoughout the race and was cursing my lungs for being so uncooperative. I kept thinking about all of those tiny babies and how someday they may never get to run a 5k themselves. So I kept on pushing. With my DH by my side we crossed the finish line together at 37:49. Not bad for no training before hand. We hope to beat our time in the next race we enter.

Can't help but think often about our own future children and keep on hoping that they are close to finding us. I think about decorating a room just for them. About buying them things that they might need. About holding them while they sleep, and comforting them when they cry. I think about our families finally being able to have new life within it. About our parents having a grandchild and my Grandmother finally getting to meet her very own great-grand baby. It's overwhelming. Both joyful and stressful. Like a lump in my throat type of choked up happy, scared feeling. I guess this is how you're supposed to feel when thinking about something this big.

It does seem to be getting more and more discouraging as time passes that maybe this wasn't meant for us. I've watched my step sister struggle through this type of thing for the past four years and all I can hope is for a good outcome for us both. I'm holding out hope still that this dose of clomid has actually done something, but am scared that this may be a repeat of last cycle. So far nothing has happened. That in itself is scary. Maybe I'm more broken than I previously thought. My body hates me. I've determined that. I just hope that there are healthy eggs somewhere inside of my tummy that will make a healthy child. I'm hoping once again for a temperature spike that may or may not show up. If not in the next two days, then likely this clomid has failed. I'm not sure I can mentally handle a repeat of another 87 day cycle.

Like a rollercoaster.. that which is my life.

We only have two more days to wait until we go in to see Dr Greene at the Fertility Clinic. It feels more like two years. The days are dragging by so very slowly. I feel as though I want to laugh at what we have been though this past year and cry at the same time. I feel like when they finally tell me I'm pregnant for real this time, I won't ever believe it. I may always hold back just that little bit and worry about protecting myself from any more pain. I do feel a sense of relief washing over me though, that soon we may be able to get some answers, be able to get pregnant, be able to have a healthy child (or three). I feel relief that we may actually get some help from a real doctor, who knows what they are doing. Then the worry kicks back in. The worries about getting not so good news, all of the "what ifs" come charging out like ghosts in a closet. I wonder occasionally who I was, or what I did in a past life to deserve this kind of personal anguish. Then I pick myself back up all over again and think that this is going to work. It has to.