...and exhale

I can breathe again.

The cycle didn't end today, I'm resigned to the fact it will sooner rather than later, but if it doesn't end within the next 9 minutes (regardless of blogger's dodgy timestamp) as I write this then I'm relatively happy.

So, credit where it's due, fate gave me a break, and allowed me not to associate today with that.

Today was the 4th June, 2008.

Today was 20 years to the day that my mother died.

Nothing special was said or done today, I've never asked for it I suppose.

I was never sentimental about it very much, but I miss her, or at least 'the idea' of her, now more than ever.

10 years old is too young for a parent and child to be parted by a parent's death.

I don't think I ever realised I was missing anything as I was growing up, but when I think of her, I know she would have missed being there. That make me feel a bit guilty for not reciprocating.

I wonder how different would things be if she were here, how different would I be?

I think we would be friends.

What would she make of all of this madness?

She'd probably chase me around the kitchen with a tea towel as her weapon of choice, but after her initial faked shock and horror, I think she'd laugh.

Heartily.

She was fond of cheekines, the 'rogue' type, not the 'will you buy me beer mister?' type.

She'd laugh and shake until she'd start to cough, she always did thanks to the twenty a day habit.

Twenty a day that cost twenty years.

So you don't fancy my soul

Dear decider of fates and destiny,

Fair enough, I can see a tarnished soul ain't for everyone, but if you don't want to take me up on that offer, I have a favour to ask in it's stead.

I know you're gonna kick me in the balls again. Soon. Could you just make it NOT today, please?

Not the 4th of June, with other fish needing frying and all that jazz.

Just wait 24 hours, and I'll accept it gracefully.

Don't be a bugger, ok?

Appreciated,
Me

I can't get off

No, it's not some weird over-sexed climaxing problem, rather its another 'no one ever told me that' moment.

Once you start trying to conceive, you can never really stop, until the process ends one way or another.

The old analogies are still the best, this is one hell of a merry-go-round.

Even when you want to stop obsessing, if you know you need to stop for the sake of both of your wits, you just can't.

Here we are, on our 14th spin, and we are as certain as we can be that we either need a big slice of luck, or some medical help, whatever form that may take.

Yet, still, here we are in the final days of the cycle again wondering, again hoping, again allowing the flutters of anticipation to creep up from our guts, even though we all but know what the outcome will be before the week ends.

It's yet another thing slipping from my grasp.

Every step in this trying to conceive process seems to result in me losing control of yet another aspect I used to command.

Almost as strange, all I can feel about it is indifference, a resignation to the fact that I have no control in what the outcome will be. Sure, I can force certain paths, but the outcome, the end result, is 100% out of my hands.

I can no longer even 'opt out', this cycle has been the worst by far, lack of energy, unhelpful people, and frustration at the biggest disappointment yet, and I still can not bring myself to just stop.

There is no chord to pull, no emergency brake, no way to step off this ride.

So around we have to go again, like it or not, past the frustration, past the disappointment, past the sadness, and worst of all - past the hope.

I used to hope by choice, and now I hope by force.