I am sick.
My annual summer cold has chosen this week, the week I have a HUGE deadline and an interview at a company I REALLY want to work for, to rear its ugly head.
Hub took Bub to church and brunch with our friends (JAM) but I couldn't fall back asleep so I am here on the couch watching Scandal, drinking tea and blogging. Not a bad morning, but man does my head hurt.
Before the blogging, I started playing a game on my phone called Drop 7. I played it often a few years back, when I was pregnant with Blue Sunday. That flight over the country when I realized I was pregnant Hub and I both played on our phones- trying to beat each others high score with me the whole time thinking of our little baby-to-(never)-be.
I could remember the feeling exactly. I don't know if it was because it was my first baby, or because the loss was so great, but I never feel that way thinking of bub's realization moment. May be it's just that there are so many more wonderful moments with him that come and go every day.
Should I get this job I'm interviewing for on Tuesday (eeek), I think hub and I will begin trying again. September was the month Blue Sunday was conceived- our anniversary month. I'm not sure how I feel about that.. though odds of me conceiving the first cycle are laughably low.
We have talked over a TTC plan- new job being secure is a prerequisite- we'll start once I'm in a new position (hopefully September) and try until November- then try a clomid cycle in December. I don't want another mid-winter birth if I can avoid it.
This time TTC is very different. This is the baby that wouldn't have been if Blue Sunday hadn't been lost. It makes it a strange feeling. I'm not ready to articulate it quite yet, but it is an odd feeling to try for a baby I would have been actively preventing had things been different.
Everywhere- there are Pieces of Blue Sunday.
Here and there, everywhere
Scenes that we once knew
And they all just recall
Memories of you
Frank Sinatra, Memories of You