When I was 8 or so, I went on this ride once at an amusement park that was one of those kinds that spun you around and around and, using centrifugal force, would plaster you to the sides of the wall and drop the floor out from under you. I hated every second of it, and when I finally got off, spent the rest of the day moaning and looking green. Ever since, even looking at a spinny ride makes me queasy.
Last night, I dreamed that I was on that ride again. I can only imagine that it was my brain trying to reconcile the emotions of this past week.
As my wife has been documenting, this cycle has been decidedly wackadoo. Compared to the previous cycles where everything has been like clockwork, the lateness, the symptoms (or lack thereof), the pee sticks (and frustration) and FEELINGS associated with this being The Last Try has, apparently, sent my inner self on a spinny ride of doom.
We don’t typically linger long on things. Anything, really. Deciding to have a baby – bam. Buying a house – bam. Trading in the hatchback for a convertible – bam. We do sudden, big decisions REALLY WELL in our house. We do in-between things terribly. In fact, my wife won’t even stand in between a doorway. True story. I do really well in daydreaming, but have learned (in nearly nine years of marriage) that if I daydream about anything too loud, it will happen. Bam.
So the uncertainty in anything is awful. But the uncertainty about whether our last cycle worked is dizzying. Yes, time will tell. We’re even pretty sure, at this point, that it’s telling us no. But we’d like to keep moving forward. Mourn the loss of our potential two-child family. Be grateful for the three year old who will be our (beautiful, healthy) one and only. Support and comfort my wife, who may be resigned, but doesn’t mean she isn’t emotionally broken. Try to find the right words and actions.
I’m not moaning, but I might look a little green.