Not even an evaporation line. One thing I can say - My negatives are always very clear.
I knew it. My temp this morning was 97.2. It was freezing at my MIL's house but my pregnant temp is a full degree higher than that. I expect the bitch (Aunt Flow, that is.) any time between now and Tuesday.
Honestly, it's been a rough weekend. My MIL didn't talk about it too much. Didn't mention the miscarriage at all. Not really a huge surprise. She did once ask "How are things with that?" This was in the midst of a random conversation so I didn't know what she meant for a second. When she looked uncomfortably, I knew what she meant. But I still made her say it. I was really cranky this weekend and felt cruel.
"With what?" I asked.
Yeah. Infertilization. And it's mine. All mine.
I toyed with a few responses. Most of them were angry and bitter. Instead I sighed and said "Well, I'm still not pregnant so....."
Not to be troubled with the ugly parts, she quickly changed the subject.
I'm a hypocrite. I know I am. I didn't want to talk about it. I don't want her to know we're doing IUI again. But it still bothered me that she didn't ask. That she seems so embarrassed about it.
This is the woman who, when told that her son's sperm were screwy, said "Well, I just can't believe that.. I mean, we couldn't keep from getting pregnant and you'd think if his dad's..."
I interrupted, "I assure you, it's true. And fertility isn't genetic. And if you'll recall, [FIL] was told that you guys would never have children because of his prostate problems. You guys got lucky."
I really don't know if she was calling the doctors (or me) liars or was just expressing surprise. She's not a mean or vindictive woman but she does have a tendency to think her boys can do no wrong. And she sees this as "wrong."
We weren't going to tell her about any of it. But the IUI that got us pregnant was on Thanksgiving Day and she was at our house. It's hard to come up with an excuse to leave the house for a couple of hours on T-day morning. So I told her the whole thing.
When we found out we were pregnant we wanted to wait and tell her in person. She called and asked and David lied. It was almost Christmas and we wanted to give her an "I love my grandma" sweatshirt. He felt bad about the lie, but it was for a worthy cause.
The day we told her we were pregnant she called everyone she knew. EVERY SINGLE CONVERSATION went like this:
MIL: Good. Guess what I got for Christmas.
MIL: HE LIED! But it's okay. They wanted to tell me in person.
So he had told ALL of these people than 1) we're infertile. 2) we had an IUI and 3) it failed. Thanks for the discretion.
I won't even discuss the fact that she had to call all these people to tell them I miscarried. She chose to tell them. Since I haven't seen anyone since then I haven't had to deal with it. But my plan is that the first person who asks me about it is going to get the litany of what we've been through. That'll fix 'em.
But, you can see why I don't really want to tell her where we stand. I know she means well but she just stresses me out. She's one of those women who conceived two sons in spite of birth control and the fact that her husband shouldn't have been able to sire children. David was born 15 months after they married and his brother 15 months after that.
She says, without embarrassment, that "David was a broken condom. [BIL] was foam."
Despite my MIL not saying much, she still managed to annoy me. I mentioned I'm cranky. I've had very little sleep for three days straight. Three days is my insomnia threshold. That's when I get cranky.
At church today I seemed to be surrounded by pregnant women and newborns. One of the hymns we sang contained the lyrics "What a joy it is to hold a newborn baby." I know I'm going to hell, but I stopped singing and thought "ahh fuck you."
Then I prayed for God to take the anger away. Today, it's not going so well. I know it's mostly that I'm tired. I can feel it. But knowing it doesn't change it.
I just seem to find bitterness at every turn.
As we came home from church, the doorbell rang. It was some friend of my MIL's coming to visit after church. She brought her two children. One of them a baby. I hid in the bedroom.
Saturday afternoon, two of David's closest friends wanted to come talk to us. I was nervous. They're nice people, but hippies, and you just never know what they're going to say. Turns out they want us to be their son's guardian should they both perish. We agreed. I was honestly touched. They know we don't share a lot of their parenting ideas but trust us to raise their son as best we can.
But I was also a little bitter. Good enough for their son, but not my own.
Later that night, David hosted a dinner party for all his hometown friends. I hung out with one of the wives and their 2 year old daughter. We had a nice time. But again, it seemed to twist the knife just a little. When she was scolded for playing with a lamp, she ran to me for comfort. When she got sleepy, she climbed into my lap and rested her head on my breast. All I could do was wonder if I'd ever hold my own child the same way.
But, it's over. Tonight I'll sleep in my own bed and tomorrow will be a new day. When my period starts, I'll call the doctor. More drugs. More swollen ovaries. More painful probing. I'll hang on to the memory of my friend's daughter reaching for me as a glimpse at what we're working for.