Not pregnant.
And with mixed-the-hell-up cycles to boot. I'm so off-kilter I think I've drifted to a new orbit.
Not pregnant.
I knew I wasn't. I wasn't sick at all, not nauseous. Just the damn cold. And our odds of successfully conceiving are so low, come on. So today I'm just sad for Jake. I watched him as he buttoned his shirt this morning and he talked about nothing, pretending he was fine with it when he's clearly not. I brushed my hair and agreed with everything he said, and I clearly don't and we both know it.
This is what makes my life difficult. When matters of the heart are at odds with logic. When the smart decision isn't the decisions of your dreams. It's a phenomenon that seems to be unique to us and every time I think I'll survive another round it reaches out long fingers to hook me and pull me back in.
I'm drowning in it. But this time we don't have nine years to make a decision. And what's worse, it's a decision with a small chance of success, so why are we putting ourselves through it at all?
But now I'm making my own case, and that's not what this post was about.
More later, if I feel inclined. My brain is overfull today.
