Seeing the Silver (uterine?) Lining

It’s a ho-hum kind of day outside today, which is terrific because I love pathetic fallacy. There have been some murmurs of thunder but no rain yet, and it’s nice and dark and I’m working from my chaise like the lazy sorry-for-myself pitiful emotional invalid I am. But I’m super comfortable. I wish someone would bring me lunch, since I seem to be getting back my appetite a bit and I would love some cry-baby soup.

I’ve read a LOT in the past few days about when to start trying again. There’s one camp that says the next few months are very fertile and baby-friendly and there’s free drinks and hors d’oeuvres and a really good band, and there’s another that says you should wait because otherwise there’s an increased chance for another miscarriage and your ex will be there with his new hot thin fiancé and you’ll owe the IRS for back taxes. I don’t want to wait (we all know how good I am with patience), especially after this little taste of success, and if it’s true that fertility is actually increased the next few months, well, I need all the advantages I can get, right? But I don’t want to go through the Oh! O-oh. Ohhh. Ew. again. But if it’s something wrong with me, like PCOS or consumption or faulty wiring, then I want to know sooner rather than later.

I got a sad little present yesterday. My mom, who is awesome and supportive and just generally a good person, sent me some onesies. She had warned me that the baby bomb was coming, so I was able to brace myself, but it was still a good reminder why you should never start buying that kind of stuff prematurely (ha ha). I remember my sister mentioning that this is really hard to keep yourself from doing – you see a great deal on something you KNOW you’re going to need, but the potential fallout never outweighs the savings. No one wants to be Miss Havisham with that useless wedding dress.

I’ve pretty much made up my mind to do the Eighth Attempt next week, assuming that everything is functioning again as it should and the machine goes ping. I’m still glad that I chose to do this now and not in, say, five years, because I think I would have just that much more stress about my time. I think I'll just let my body decide what it wants to do and I'll just do my best to keep it happy however I can and deal with whatever comes. Just please, please don’t make me be nine months pregnant in August in North Carolina. There isn’t that much air conditioning on the planet.