January 8th

Today is an important day in our home. It is the most emotional day of the year for Hubby and I. It looks as if a higher power wanted to make sure it stayed that way today...

Today is our 6th anniversary. Six years ago we were married in my grandmother's church. It was a church that our family has attended for many generations and most of them are buried in the cemetary there. It is where I go when I feel uprooted in life. I can always find my footing again there. It was only appropriate that we should be married there.

I wore a simple Sunday dress and Hubby wore khakis with a dress shirt. The pictures took longer than the service and we were soon on our way to my grandmother's house a couple of miles away for a home cooked dinner and a homemade cake with chocolate frosting. Hubby has often mentioned his regret in such a simple service. He felt like I deserved more. I always kiss him on the cheek and tell him I would never have been happy with anything different. My only regret is that his parents weren't there, but that was Hubby's fault.

We started planning and trying that night for our first child.

Six years later, we still dream about a family. The only difference is that our definition of "someday" has changed. That word used to mean a tangible possibility in the near future. Now "someday" brings a tear to our eyes and a prayer for a miracle.

Today of all days the doctor called me at work.

"Arian, how many clomid cycles have we done now?"

"Four," I replied.

He never even asked me if I had taken a test or what day I expected af.

Tears filled my eyes and I heard him say, "We're not going to do any more clomid cycles. I want you to take your metformin and call the office to set up an appointment for you and your husband soon. We need to discuss our other options."

I feel like I have been rejected or dismissed. It is like he slammed a door in my face just as I started to introduce myself. I'll never slam the door in the face of another vacuum cleaner salesman for the rest of my life.

I know there are other options and perhaps he isn't going to send us off to a clinic just yet. Still, I wasn't prepared. I thought we had two more cycles of Clomid before we had to face that.

I walked to my mother's room and stood in her coat room sobbing. She reminded me that af still hasn't arrived and that her tests were slow to show two lines. Her doctor didn't want to even do a urine test on her, telling her very confidently that she wasn't pregnant. My mother told him that if that was the case, she wanted a test to prove it. Nine months later I was born. She reminded me that we needed to take one step at a time and at least find out our options. "God has a plan. It will happen."

Why can't I believe her? I look at the odds and then I adjust the balance for myself. I'm sure some of you know what I mean. You face so much disappointment that when a situation shows itself, you automatically adjust the scales against yourself before considering the chances of "those normal people."

I wish I had a giant eraser that would rub this date out of our year. We celebrate our marriage every single day of the year. We have to in order to make up for all of the pain we go through on our anniversary.