"To those who can dream there is no such place as faraway...."

I feel like I have a thousand thoughts in my head, each of them running in a drastically different direction. I can't even comprehend or grasp most of them: It's like trying to grab at a wave on the shore: You think you've got it, but it slips out of grasp, running back to the ocean, laughing at you the whole way...only to come back a few seconds later to tease you with the prospect of another attempt.

That's probably a pretty good analogy of the whole IF saga. Every month we try again, hoping that this time the results will be different. Who knows, maybe some day they will be. It certainly gets exhausting though...month after month of temping and timing, waiting and worrying. The constant emotional rollercoaster and the having to be polite to people who are oblivious.

Coworkers are probably some of the worst. Only one of mine even knows that we are, and have been, trying. Of course, her response is that of most people: "you're trying too hard", "these things take time", and other such "helpful" comments. The rest of my coworkers (mainly men over the age of 55) tell me the old adage: "Just wait till you have kids!" As though it were a threat: Please, curse me with children...curse me to never again be able to sleep in on a Saturday...curse me to have a tight budget because the kids need things...curse me to never have a free moment to myself...curse me to have twins. I'll gladly take all of it. I'll take the stress and hurt and fears that come with being a parent, for the joy and love far outweigh them.

Sunday afternoon I was cleaning our bedroom and I found a book that my mom had given me on some birthday: A Book of Letters to my Daughter. It was just a collection of little stories and quotes about mothers and daughters. I read one...about a father in the service who through a number of different miracles was able to make it home for the birth of his daughter. He and his wife had tried for many years and were told they were out of luck. They had wanted that baby so badly and waited for so long. For the first time...I didn't ball up in hysterical sobs. I shed a few quiet tears and went back to cleaning. Of course, I then felt like a bad person.

I've realized that I've started to become numb to (or at peace with) our IF issues. I don't know if it's having resigned myself to the fact that we may never have children of our own...or accepting that no matter what (whether treatments fail or succeed) we will have children. It's not a choice for us. There is no debating about how far we are willing to go. We will be parents: whether God blesses us with a biological or adopted child. I've never imagined otherwise. I think that's part of why I feel this way. Because I know someday it will be a reality.

I'm trying to focus on other things. With Matt out of work I'm trying to think up different money making schemes...not knowing what will work. I keep debating whether or not I want to attempt to sell some of my quilting/sewing projects as well as photography online. I think the only thing holding me back (besides time constraints to do it) is the fear of failing. Another thought that is flitting in and out of my mind....

I did get one of the placemats for my friend's birthday gift done. I have to finish the rest in time to mail them out by Saturday for her birthday on Tuesday. I think I can...I think I can :-) (there's that optimism!)