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This is one of those days that I am just barely hanging on by a thread.  I’m getting by, telling myself that, “someday I’ll look back at this time in my life and laugh about it.”

Right now, it’s hard to laugh when all I can do is cry.  We’re not pregnant…again.  I felt so good about this cycle.  I’m tired of doctors.  I’m tired of medicine.  I’m tired of hormones.  I’m tired of sex.  It’s so hard to keep it together and Wade just seems so calm.  I feel like we’re on different planets.  We are meeting with the fertility doctor in an hour to discuss IVF.  I’m ready.  This feeling is the pinnacle of failure.  It’s “we went in another direction on your dream job” to the max.  It hurts.  It hurts really deeply and there’s no explanation.

I really thought I was pregnant up until last night.  I had every symptom know to man.  My mind is effed, too, I guess.  Anyway, I slept terribly last night with wringing cramps.  I knew I’d start today and I did.  The phone call to the doctor’s office is the worst.

“Ummm, yes.  This is Coty Graf.  I just wanted to let you know that I’m bleeding out my vagina again. Can I schedule an appointment to have a sonogram wand shoved up me ASAP?  Thanks.”

Everyone is pregnant.  Everyone has babies.  I took a client to lunch today and he proceeds to show me video of his child’s first minute in this world.  The kid is 2.  Why?  It took every ounce of strength I had to not lose it at the Chili’s bar.  Every ounce.  And, now I’m exhausted; emotionally and physically.

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