So, I ask you: Why not?
It's the one question I couldn't answer, not really. Why not try again? What is the compelling downside? Does "Because I don't want to risk some pain" outweigh "It might still work"? How can I rationally compare the potential for pain to the substantially smaller, but much more deeply meaningful, potential for success--especially when someone I love and who has sacrificed for me doesn't want to give up?
I can't. I didn't. I tuned out the haranguing, high-pitched voice in my head that continues to remind me that I am 41, that miscarriages and even just failure to conceive are really fucking unpleasant, that it's childish to want what I can't have. Instead, I bought my hundred and fifty-second box of OPKs and, well, here I am again.
So much has changed since I started this blog, back in May of 2004. I would not have credited the life I have now, wouldn't have recognized myself in it. But I would have known this well-worn feeling of cyclical dread mixed with tiny, tiny threads of hope. Even if the threads are harder to grasp.