The anniversary

First things first, lets get the Monday weigh-in out of the way. 175. Same as yesterday, but yeehaw, it is down! OK, so it's taken me 5 weeks to lose 3 pounds, which is not exactly great going, but I'd have given up by now if it wasn't for the self-inflicted public humiliation of the Monday weigh-in. And at least it's moving in the right direction. Slow and steady wins the race, and all that.

But, what's really on my mind today (apart from it being CD1, WTF is with the 12-day luteal phase?) is that today is the anniversary of my mom's death. It feels quite poignant to me this year, because I really really wanted to have a child by now, or to be pregnant by now. You see, this year I passed the age that she was when she died. I desperately wanted to have a child by the time I was that age, or to give birth at that age, or to be pregnant at that age, or to get knocked up at that age. Sadly, none of that came to pass. It's odd, because my brother was convinced he wasn't going to live beyond that age (and has, quite frankly, been living as if he has a death wish because of it, so I wouldn't be surprised if he did die young). I, on the other hand, wanted to celebrate that age with giving life to another human being. To complete the circle as it were. And it tears at my heart that it was not to be. No, I passed 37.5 without any of my little dreams and wishes on that score coming true. But now that I have passed that age, it also saddens me even more that she had to die so young. When you're a young child, your parents seem like they have lived forever, but dying younger than 40 is just tragic.

Anyway, happy anniversary mummy - 26 years today. The largeness of that number makes me catch my breath more and more every year. It's hard to believe it's really been that long. But I know that there's no more pain where she is, and that she's with me still, so that gives me comfort.