Yesterday was February 1. It was also cd 1. Coincidence? Probably, but since I was in high school it has always seemed like the bad things that happen are more likely to happen in February. My best friend and I always breathed a sigh of relief when it was over, and fervently thanked our lucky stars that it's the shortest month of the year.
I am disappointed. That's putting it mildly. I feel a slight bit of rising panic that NOTHING WE TRY IS WORKING and THIS MAY NOT HAPPEN FOR US and I MAY NEVER BE PREGNANT but I'm trying to counter that with logic and caffeine and french fries.
What I don't feel is either the gut-wrenching physical pain of my last period or the crushing emotional pain of the end of my last medicated cycle. I feel mostly okay (except for the panic). I don't know what makes the difference, and I wish I did. Maybe I kept my hopes and expectations lower this time? Maybe I'm getting better at not letting infertility be my whole life? I don't know. I have been working on that.
What I do know is that for Valentine's day Jack and I are going to the same fancy-schmancy expensive restaurant we had such a wonderful time at last year. We can't really afford it this year, but that was the deal we made. If we're not pregnant this time, we're going back. Which means I would rather we were planning to spend Valentine's day on the sofa in our pajamas reading baby books, but there you go. We are going to dress up and go out. And we're going to have a wonderful time.