Understanding

"You just don't understand!"  How many times has that been said?  I remember sobbing and hurling that phrase at my mother when she wouldn't allow me to do something.  That something was almost always a bad idea.  I can see that now.  At 13?  Not so much.  Of course my life was ending because I couldn't stay up half the night on the phone. 

As I've grown up, I still find myself hurling those words at people, usually the people I care about the most.  The thing is, I think most people do understand what I am saying.  They simply don't have the same emotions about those words as I do.

I've hurled them at my friends when they say things like "Everything happens for a reason" or "In God's time."  Of course they don't understand the grief and guilt I carry in my heart.  I really don't want them to understand it.  I don't want them to feel the pain and emptiness I feel.  I know they mean well and aren't trying to hurt me.  Who really does know what to say to comfort me?  I don't know what they could say that would comfort me.

I've hurled them at Bill when he tells me to have patience.  My frustration boils over and the words fly out of my mouth like arrows.   They strike their mark and I see the hurt in his eyes.  He does understand.  He tries so hard.  I repay him with verbal blows. 

Maybe I am the one who doesn't understand. 

Rain on the windshield

CD1.  A day for new beginnings, new plans and new hope.  At least that is how it should be.  Today feels much less "new box of crayons" and much more "rain on the windshield."  My last chance to be pregnant before my due date...gone.  My last chance to have a baby before 36...gone. 

I guess we are on to round two of Clomid.  I'm thankful I responded in round one, but I wish it would have resulted in two pink lines instead of cramps, tears and tampons.  This CD1 has hit me so much harder than the previous ones.  I'm not sure why, exactly.  Possibly it is the hope I allowed myself.  Perhaps it is all of the dreams of positive pee sticks.  Maybe it is simply the increased hormonal effects of Clomid.  Whatever it is, it sucks.  Bad. 

Here's hoping that I'll be celebrating both the birth of my nephew and the conception of my little firefly next month.  If the universe has any sense of fairness, I just might be.