No and it is OK.

I should have known. I always did know. It is OK. It was hard not to hope though. My period wasn't late, but man I did not feel good. Turns out a crazy stomach bug was taking over Virginia (and other states to be sure) and I took over my stomach for a very long weekend.

I'm not pregnant.

I was super suspicious that I was though. Waking up nauseous is always a sign we cling to. My level of exhaustion was at astronomical levels. Losing 7 pounds over a weekend should have pointed more to the stomach flu, but every morning that I woke up nauseous and every night when I threw up, I would look at my husband and say "Could it be?"

Nope.

I know better. I know it took 6 years to have our beautiful son. I know I laughed when my mom said "maybe it is all the running you are doing?" Nope, my 2012 New Year's Resolution to run a 10K is not the cause of my past 6 years of infertility. And then there was the part of me that felt tremendous sadness about the 5 frozen embies we have. If I was, by some major miracle, pregnant naturally, what would become of my frozen embies? All of a sudden I missed them and the potential they hold.

I'm so curious about them. It is easy to talk about them in a medical sense. If we decide to do a frozen cycle, they will all be thawed, watched and then the best will be transferred in another IVF cycle. If possible, remaining good ones will be refrozen for another attempt. I know medically what will happen to them. But emotionally I look at my son, who will be a year(!) old next week, and I wonder about his siblings. His siblings that I guess could be considered twins in a way, all put together on the same day. He was chosen, the others frozen and waiting. I miss them. I long for them. Or her? Or him? There is no way to know if one or three or all five would survive the thaw. Would it attach? Would I carry another miracle full term? Can I be the mother of two? Could I be so lucky? Could I be more arrogant that these embies are just waiting for me to say, "Ok. Now."? That I can just snap my fingers and pick a date and stick my feet in the stirrups and get pregnant.

I know it doesn't work that way. That $4,000 for a frozen cycle just buys me a chance. That 5 frozen embies means nothing if they don't make it. IVF was so hard. I know a frozen cycle is easier, but it is still hard. It is hard to stab yourself in the leg or the abdomen or the butt every day. It is hard to open your fridge and see stacks of drugs staring you in the face when you just want some orange juice. It scares me to start that process up again. To stare face to face with a box of drugs knowing that you will use almost everything in there. All the supplies are for you and for you alone. Even if C holds my hand or even plunges the needle, it is still going into my leg. The hormones, the exhaustion, the frustration and even the anger. I'm worried about how that goes during a frozen cycle. Is it easier or harder to know that if it doesn't work, that this is it? I know I don't have it in me for another fresh cycle. If we can't get pregnant with the embies we have, we are all done.

I'm so curious about those embies. They hold our future in their frozen cocoons.

We can't help but wonder

Hope.

Pray.

Plead.

Friday morning started like any other. C was already long at work when N woke up to start our day. We had breakfast and played in the den and when he went down for a nap, I headed to the laundry room to finish up a load. All of a sudden I felt an overwhelming urge to lay down and/or throw up. As I laid on the couch, hoping that N would stay asleep until my husband got home, I rocked back and forth under our biggest blanket fighting back chills and willing myself not to throw up. It lasted for hours.

C got home and saw me huddled under a blanket and started what would be his weekend of taking care of me, N and the house. 7pm rolled around and although I hadn't eaten much more than a few bites of soup, I felt the overwhelming urge to vomit and jumped over baby toys and scrambled up the den stairs to just barely make it to the toilet. Admittedly, I felt a little better after that, but still physically exhausted and spent the rest of the night tossing and turning, first on the couch and then in our bed.

I woke up early with the boys Saturday morning and still felt weak and vomity, but I wanted to help and got up to change our boy while C got a bottle ready. As soon as I got the diaper off, the overwhelming urge to throw up came over me and I yelled for C as I booked to the bathroom. I spent Saturday much like Friday, tossing and turning on the couch while trying to eat bites of toast and ice pops.

C was awesome and ran errands with N and took care of everything we both needed. It reminded me of how often he stepped right up during our years of infertility when I just couldn't do it.

By Saturday night, I was feeling slightly better and was able to sleep without all the tossing (neither my body nor my cookies). I spent the day today alternating short bouts of energy with moments of sheer exhaustion and a weak stomach. By the end of today, it was hard to tell if my nausea was from a stomach bug or from the fact that I hadn't eaten since Friday morning or...

it couldn't be pregnancy? Could it? Is it just too much to hope for? Am I being silly? Naive?

The Sleep.ys Mattress commercial made me cry twice today. So did the end of Defending Your Life this afternoon. And Innerspace (sick days mean lots of movie watching). And right now, Cary El.wes horrible accent on Law and Order SVU is making me want to cry.

It is possible. My period is not late yet, but the timing would be right. Why does it always happen like that? Just vague enough to give us hope.