Monday, June 30, 2014

by the numbers

If months spent trying to conceive were otherwise spent in education, I'd have my Masters. An MA of TTC.

Half of our six year marriage has been lived out under its influence.

Babe Ruth famously had a total lifetime strikeout record of 1,330  and an inspirational home run record of 714, a ratio of nearly 2:1. Would we still be as encouraged if his average was 32:1?

Or tens of millions to nil, our monthly average?

It's always lingering, sometimes peripherally, sometimes blatantly, like a housefly blessed with longevity.

I've felt as it has eroded my time, my patience, my plans, my determination, my hope, my confidence, my optimism, my faith, and, at times, the quality if not the quantity of our intimacy.

I've developed a second pattern of irritability and weepiness during my cycle, mid-way, around ovulation.

It's been the reason behind quitting one job, and the reason behind acquiring another.

But then I look at Hugo, my Hugo, and wonder simultaneously how I could ever think of quitting, and wonder how I could ever complain when friends of mine don't have even one, and wonder if he will know what it's like to have a sibling who shares his DNA, and wonder if that even should matter, and wonder why it still does.

Because if pregnancy to us is like winning the lottery, what is the statistical likelihood that we will win it twice?


heather sinnott said...

It will happen Sarah. daily deposit or wild or intimate romp, they will make an appearance at some point!! Hang in there mama. i'm sure that baby of promise will show up when you least expect it. xo

Julia Hendrik said...

Gorgeous. Heartrendingly honest.

Also, I've missed your words.