I bring you a Christmas gift of poop

I actually said those words this morning. To the vet. Ha ha ha. They wanted a cat poop sample, and they've got it. Of course, they should have had it on Monday, but Atkins-induced constipation and wilfull hunger strikes led to a delay.

Thanks for the thoughts about yesterday. I do feel like I expect too much of myself, sometimes. But it took me SO freakin' long to stop doing IVFs. So many people were (and are) all: "just get over it, already, and MOVE ON." So every time I struggle with moving on, even though on a day-to-day level I am at peace, it stings. Because I feel like a failure that I haven't "got over it" completely, that it took me so long to even get where I am today.

Then again, I probably never will get over it completely. My mother died nearly 30 years ago. I don't cry over her death any more. I don't actively grieve over it. But it is always there with me. It always brings me to a wistful pause when I think about how life could have been, would have been, should have been if she had not been taken away from us so young. I expect that unresolved infertility is like that. It will never leave. Even if I become a mother in another way, I expect there will always be some underlying grieving, angst and/or wistfulness. I know, I know, the child will be MY child, my true destined child, the child that I would not have had but for infertility leading me down that path. But that's not to say that I won't grieve over the fact that that child wasn't the second or third child, meant to complete my family, but instead is the only child, found after a long fought battle. I don't think the scars from the battle will ever truly heal.

May you all have a wonderful holiday. And if you are dealing with your own IF battle scars, may it not be too painful. May you find some joy and light in the darkness.