When you have experienced any sort of infertility and are trying to get pregnant waiting becomes a part of your life and it is a trial for those with the best of patience. I used to be a patient person...not so much any more. Knowing that I have to wait five more days to find out if this cycle worked or not is not easy. I also have some pro.gesterone side affects which may or may not be good signs...heartburn all the time, tender breasts, tired constantly...but I don't dare read too much into them.
I am very grateful that I have had an art educators conference to distract me yesterday, today and again tomorrow. I enjoy learning and gathering new ideas from my colleagues that I can take back and use in my own classroom in one way or another. This has kept my mind off of my cycle for the most part...
Except the part where nearly half of the art teachers in this state must be pregnant (the other half are about to retire and a small portion are men). Seriously. Bumps of all sizes are in every single talk or workshop I have attended. Ok, maybe I am exaggerating a little, but I started counting after lunch and there was at least 2 obviously pregnant women in the 4 talks/workshops I attended after lunch.
The last talk I attended was given by a woman, bless her heart, is due in 20 days. How she lasted all day and was able to present at 4:30 is beyond me. I was amazed she made it through with out her water breaking...she is riding low and I am sure she won't make it to her due date. She was so damned optimistic, naive, and smiley too. She was so freaking confident that everything is going to turn out peachy keen...and I sat in her audience and kept my dark thoughts and knowledge to my self. I also wished and hoped with all that I had that she never ever knows what I know...that sometimes things don't have a happy ending.
I should probably back up and say that I took a long walk at lunch to get away from the preggo bellies. I found my local hit for a (decaf) pumpkin spice latte and ended up standing behind a lady waiting for her coffee beverage with an adorable little girl and an older woman who asked all sorts of questions about the cutie pie that wanted desperately to walk, in spite of not yet having the hang of this whole walking business. Turns out cutie pie is about to turn 10 months old.
By some miracle of the universe my drink was ready first and I could bolt before I lost it. I did manage to not cry for the rest of the afternoon but my mind was in a very dark and morbid place. Oh to have even a little bit of optimism...not likely considering all that I know.