*tears*

It's not that I'm sad - really, I'm not. At least, I don't think I am. My mom asked me if I was sad last time we talked, because everytime she got off the phone with me, she was left with a lingering feeling of - sad.

I'm not. Or, if I am, it's the sort of sadness that just seeps in and covers everything in the same blanket of sad - so there's nothing that really scream out - SAD!

Melancholy? Maybe. That might be it. It's the sort of sad that you feel after you've moved from a really nice city to another one that's jsut as nice - but just, not the same. It's a transitionary sad - a grieving of that which - is. was. will be.

So. No, I'm not sad. And even when I read about others newborns, or cheer on others hoping for that BFP - I'm still not sad. I'm not jealous, anymore, either. I'm just - there. Maybe it's a bit of a facade - a bit of a wall between whatever is raging in my heart, and what I'm actually able to express. I think of my friend - TTC'ing for seven years - and wonder how she felt - how did she respond to others?

Maybe I'm disappointed. Disappointed in me? No, disappointed in time. My expectations did not match up to the reality, despite all of my efforts otherwise, and - that is a little saddening.

But it still doesn't make me sad. Not yet. I'm not sure when - maybe, one day - years from now, if we still haven't concieved, I'll be sad then. Sad for the sure loss of the life I believed I would have.

But not now. Now is still time for hope, even if it's cloaked in a melancholy dress. Hope is waht lets me read. Hope is what makes me cheer. Hope is what drives me on. Hope, and even deeper than that, certainty. I don't know when, but I still believe it will.