Last night at work I overheard a nurse talking about her pregnancy to another nurse. This is a nurse I work with frequently, and I really like her. I didn't know she was pregnant. I went into another room and braced myself for what I knew would come - the tears. They always do. Except this time, they didn't. All I felt was a clenching in my chest. The heartache. The heartbreak.
I've turned the corner from "When is it going to be my turn?" to "Will it ever be my turn?" It's an "if" rather than a "when". That, for me, is the worst part of all this. The heartwrenching grief of loss is terrible, of course it is. But every second of pain and every tear would be worth it if I were to be lucky enough to ever have a baby. But if I don't, all this struggle, all this pain, all this heartbreak, will be for naught.
Not to say I've given up. Far from it. Tomorrow is hysteroscopy #3.
