You know how you decide that THIS time it’ll be different?  This year I’ll have my gifts bought and wrapped by December 15th.  I’ll buy that bag of cookies, but this time I’ll only have three a day.  Of course my relative will ignore and insult me, but this time I’ll just breathe, and not let my head fill up with hate. 

Well, here I am, realizing that this time will not be different.  I thought I’d be fine with the drugs, the Lupron; I may have a little mood swing here and there but it’ll be a little cute one, and my husband and I can pretend we’re just practicing for all the adorable inconveniences of pregnancy (which will probably be horrendous when they finally arrive).  I’m in a better place with food, and sugar, so maybe all the Lupron side effects from before were just … uh, me.

Mmmm, not so much.  Today is the first day where I realize will not master the crying and the weight gain.  I’ll just hold on as my little boat goes over Niagara Falls, and we’ll see where I am at the bottom.  I’m having some sleeplessness, which doesn’t help.  And today, after a perfectly nice walk on a perfectly beautiful day, a bad dog barked at me and I went home and cried for a half an hour.  No more petite sniffles, my mood swings are now sending me into deep wracking sobs and a feeling of hopelessness. 

All hail the world’s best husband.  Mine doesn’t ask "What happened?"  He doesn’t even ask "Did something happen?" because he knows that sometimes absolutely nothing happens and you can still suddenly get really, really sad. 

But a good cry does help, even if it lasts way, way too long.  It’s probably not the worst thing to reduce my expectations, so that now I’m not surprised if I just survive, and not surpass, my circumstances.  It is what it is.