M. called me last night to check in and told me she was 3 days late. Because she's been charting she knew that she ovulated this past cycle and had a good shot at being pregnant. She told me she felt bad telling me because she knows how hard it's been on me and another friend of hers who is in the middle of an adoption nightmare. I told her that lots of crappy things happen to good people, and it's nice to finally hear about something good happening to a good person like herself. I commanded her to pee on something the next morning and call me with the results.
Well, she called this morning and left a message while DH and I were at an adoption conference (which I'll write more about later). She had peed on four tests by four different manufacturers (what can I say? M's an overachiever like me) and all four came up positive. Her due date according to FF is December 9. I have to admit that hearing the possible due date is the only part that made me tear up. I thought, "Wow, M. will have a baby by next Christmas," and then I realized that there's a good chance DH and I will spend another Christmas childless. That hurts. I told DH that while M. was getting the two pink lines I'll likely never see, he and I were learning strategies for dealing with the little stealing, fire starting, attachment disordered child we'll end up adopting (again more about that when I write about the adoption conference).
But other than that thought, which keeps returning to kick me periodically, I really am happy for M. Maybe it's because she's one of my dearest and well-loved friends who has been through some really rotten times in her life. Maybe it's because she was so concerned about my feelings in sharing her news and has been extremely supportive throughout my troubles. Maybe it's because with her PCOS diagnosis she could have easily been dealing with infertility and dodged a bullet. Maybe it's because I can't even begin to imagine myself in her shoes, pregnant on my second cycle, and so it's not as though her BFP could, in my twisted infertile mind, have been mine.
I can even imagine myself at her baby shower. How's that for coping?