Party of Six

So, if you follow us on Facebook, you know that I am NOT pregnant. There is no bun in the oven. There is no #5. The test was negative. I'm NOT pregnant. There, I said it. It is over. Chapter closed. wow.

What a strange few weeks this has been. The days leading up to the pregnancy test were torture. I would like to say I was peaceful, restful, confident in my faith. Umm, no. I was a mess. A wreck. A hormonal, emotional, comfort-eating wreck. Pretty, huh? Are you impressed now? I was riding the crazy-train.

What is strange is that I did have one positive pregnancy test. Somewhere in the post-5-6 day transfer range. Hope is a lousy lover sometimes. Fickle. Fleeting.

[male audience, you may wish to stop reading here] So, the day before my pregnancy test, my period starts. I call the doctor. They bring me in. The nurse draws my blood. The waiting continues. It all feels so familiar. The days of infertility come crashing back. I may as well been 26 wondering if I would ever have a baby. Here we are again.

So, in my heart, I know I'm not pregnant. But, the one positive test stares at me and dares me to think differently. The evidence tells me otherwise. I don't know what to think. The final results come. The nurse calls. It is over. Chapter closed. Family complete. Party of six. That is us.

My mom comes over in the afternoon. She brings dinner for the kids. She cries with me. She had four kids. She understands my position. She doesn't try to make it better. She cries too. Fully aware that I will be ok, but ok enough to grieve what could have been.

It is a day before my 18th wedding anniversary. What a fun date I'm going to be!

We pack up and leave the kids on a Friday with our faithful sitter. We are bruised and tired. We head for the beach to lick our wounds and rest. We sleep and watch the world go by. We talk and we are silent. We rest. We process. We go to dinner on Saturday night and call it an early evening. We sleep some more. Sunday comes. We don't have to be home till late that night. We go to breakfast. I'm restless. Jeff is restless. We want to go HOME. We want to see our babies. To kiss their heads, read them stories, play with them. We are still parents to four fabulous boys. It is time to go home and move forward.

So, this party of six is ok. We are moving onto the next chapter. We donated the port-a-cribs and toddler bed. The stroller has been sold and the crib is up for sale. We are at peace with God's choice. We are grateful for it at times - happy to be in this next phase - grateful to be moving forward. It has reminded us to enjoy what we have. A dear friend told me, "when Jeffrey is 13 and desperately needs your attention, he won't have to fight a two year old for it." There was wisdom in those words. And healing.


So, sorry I've been the absent blogger. Lots is going on in Voth-world. The boys are going to public school next year (a whole slew of posts), summer is here, work is nuts, and life moves on.

Voth party. Party of six. Sounds good to me.