wednesdays

Wednesdays are hard.

It's on Wednesdays that my mom, my sister and my cousin gather at my parent's house (my sister with her two little girls ages three and one and my cousin with her two month old son) to hang out. I can't be a part of this - I'm not a mother. (Nor can we afford for me to take a day off in the middle of the week - plus it's a 180 mile round trip.) I feel left out. Usually I'm too busy at work to imagine what they are doing - but it hurts.

I'm never invited to these gatherings. There's never been the "hey, I know you're usually working, but just this one time would you like to join us?" comment extended by any of the participating parties. In fact, if I do complain I'm made to feel like I'm a whiner. Anyway, Wednesdays suck.

That's just how I feel.

Someday I know I'm going to be a mother, but from where I'm sitting now I can't ever imagine wanting to hang out with the women who have basically ignored me this entire struggle. Yes, my mother, my sister, my closest cousin - they have very much ignored me. And I know why - they feel bad, they do - momentarily - but then they are so busy with their lives and their young families that they just can't stay trapped in the problems of someone else for very long. We all have to live our own lives.

I know there are worse things than infertility. But the idea of having to live a childless life just kills me. I'm not choosing to live this way. I'm doing everything I can to get us out of this.

Today I had a lot of ovulation pain and all of the other classic signs of ovulation, it's too bad my husband is on active duty down in Kansas. Last year I would have thrown a fit about this - him missing my fertile days, but after 6 failed IUIs I've learned patience.

It is what it is. He can't be here. Making myself upset would only be making myself upset and I need to gather calmness, equanimity and peace around me like a healing cloak, so that my body can be prepared to carry a child this autumn.

I want to believe I'm one Wednesday closer to being a mom . . . so that's what I'm going to do.