I had two days of optimism. The nausea helped. But then the nausea was less and I went to that dark place, where miracle happy endings simply do not happen, where every pregnancy ends badly.
I told a friend my news and my fears and she countered with a story of another friend, who gave up trying after every conceivable intervention failed, miscarriage after miscarriage, deciding she just wasn't meant to have children. And then, at 40, had a first, and two years later, a second healthy daughter.
I broke into tears hearing that, realizing it might just be okay to retain a modicum of hope.
This morning I checked my basal body temperature, and found myself just .05 higher than I usually am before my monthly period. This is not good news. I am back to the dark place.
My dog is bringing me her toy, insisting that I play with her. Life, apparently, goes on.