It was so beautiful for a few days, so warm and sunny and practically summer-like. The grass was freshly cut and the yard dried up and Fonzie's paws stopped being filthy every time he went outside. The windows were open to let in the breeze; everything seemed fresh and new and redeemable.
Now it has rained for three days in a row, and both my arms are sore from blood draws and the carpet is covered in crumbs and dog hair that I haven't had the will to vacuum up. I feel tired throughout the day, but come night I am wide awake and a bit anxious. I'm also having trouble eating, which is the strangest thing ever for me. My stomach feels a little knotted and jittery all the time, and once my initial hunger pangs have been quelled, even one more bite more makes my stomach turn. I guess maybe that's a good thing. I had to fast this morning for my last blood draw, and once it was over and I could eat, the danish that I had picked up as a treat felt like glue in my mouth. I gagged a little, then gave the rest to the kids.
My best friend is moving away. Maybe not for a while, probably not given the real estate market, but eventually. Sometimes I feel fine about this, and happy for them that they will be fulfilling their dreams of living in the country and having gardens and land and animals and a shorter work commute. And sometimes I feel self-pitying and childish about this, and I want to cry. I will miss her- all of them- so much.
There are moments when I feel like the whole Clomid/Prometrium/Lovenox/progesterone injections during pregnancy thing is no big deal in the scheme of things, that no doctor has outright told us we're being crazy to want more kids so it must NOT be crazy, and that I should suck it up and get back on the baby train. There are also moments when the thought of another pregnancy makes me want to bury my head in a pillow and sob.
I guess I need the sun to come out again.