Morose bumbling

It's nearing a week from my BFN. Today is CD 4, not that it matters much. The last couple cycles, I had to jump right back into the next cycle right away, generally going in for an ultrasound on CD1 or 2, then starting my injections on CD3. Instead, this time I have to meet with Dr. D., my RE, on Friday to see what - if anything - is next. In the meantime, well.... I'm enjoying some red wine. That's the upside, I guess. I enjoy my daily red, but I'd give it up in a heartbeat.

Besides, the downside is that I've spent the other 3/4 of the time in a state of morose bumbling. I thought this time might be it, you know. Not that I haven't thought that a million times before. I know I'll get through this - somehow, someday... but it's just so hard. I'm so thankful times a bajillion for my Ar!! What would I do without his kindness and gentleness to me? The poor dear, every other time he turns around, it seems I'm crying. I can't seem to stop crying lately.

In fact, I came home from the grocery store today in tears. Why, you ask? So did he... Well, that would be because the check out lady assumed I have children. Well, I don't have children. I'd like to have told her that. I'd have added that while I know she meant no harm, assumptions only hurt people - even when they seem innocuous. If I'd told her that, I'd have started crying in the store and I certainly wasn't up for that. Especially since I still had to fork out the big bucks for my four sacks of bake sale ingredients. I wonder if they'd have given me a discount for the checker lady making me cry.

Lately it seems everywhere I go, someone is assuming I have kids. Do I have some kind of maternal vibe going on? Do I look motherly? Have I wiped dirt off someone's face with my spittle? I don't know, but it just hurts like crazy. It always comes from no where, like a punch in the gut. So, here's a thought, unless you actually see a child clinging to me, or falling out of me, don't assume I have kids.

Although I might slightly prefer someone assuming I have kids to being told it doesn't matter very much if I am alive or dead...

This past Saturday, I went out for my annual pedicure and lunch day with a dear old friend. We live several hours apart, so we meet in the middle for this. It's loads of fun and I love seeing my friend - I was looking forward to this, especially after such a difficult week. The salon is really a nice one, but they may want to work on the conversational skills of their employees. Here are the unsolicited thoughts of my pedicurist (who looked 15, but is a mom of two daughters):

"It's so sad when someone with kids dies; it's tragic! Of course, I wouldn't want anyone to die, but it's just different when someone with kids dies.... The ones they leave behind don't just get over it - they would miss them sooo much. It's different for those of us with kids. It's like, we can't die... So, do you have kids?"

"No."

"Hmm."

My friend hadn't heard this part because we were at separate stations at the moment, since my toes were finished early. My friend knows and is supportive of what we're going through, but I chose to not spoil the day by saying anything.

But I cried half the way home.

I don't agree with my lovely philosopher pedicurist in the least, of course!! It's ridiculous!!! It's beyond ridiculous!!! Try telling my husband, my mom and brothers, my niece and nephew, and all the friends who love me like a sister - try telling them that it won't be such a big deal if I suddenly drop dead; that they'll just get over it. And try telling me that about any of them.

But I still cried half the way home.

I've heard and read this before, but never had it told to my face. It's horrible - it's a horrible thing to say to another. I'm not saying that it's not tragic for children to lose their parent - I lost my dad at 18 - and that was tragic. Maybe, according to her, it would have been more tragic if I were younger when he died. I don't know. While I absolutely reject her self absorbed line of thinking, it still left me feeling once again like a defective waste of space. I hate that I gave her the power to do that. But that's the power of words, especially when someone is in a fragile place to begin with.

If any of the people I truly love died, my life would be irrevocably changed. I would never get over it. I'm pretty sure that these same people would feel the same about me.

I reject her words, but they still hurt like heck!

But at least my toes are cute!

So... be careful what you say to people, people. Be careful what you assume. (This includes me, since I'm a people too.) I'm just saying - none of us really knows what someone else is going through.

"Pleasant words are a honeycomb, sweet to the soul and healing to the bones." (Proverbs 16:24)

"May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, O Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer." (Psalm 19:14)