Vignettes

I dreamt the same thing twice in one night last week. In my dream, I was thirty-some weeks pregnant and needed to be induced early for some medical reason. We were sure that I and the baby would be fine, and we were excited to meet our little one. Each time, I woke from the dream to remember: my belly was swollen not with child but with hyperstimulation post-transfer. Still, it was a nice dream, and I hoped it boded well for our embryos.

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Our house has a detached garage, with a disheveled, rusty basketball hoop mounted above the garage door. Birds have built their nest in the space between the hoop's backboard and the garage wall. This morning, as I stepped through the garage door to go to the car and leave for my beta appointment, I noticed something near my feet. The small, broken body of a baby bird. It's still there now. I'll ask Aaron to take care of it when he gets home from work; I don't think I could bear it.

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Words from a song I listened to as I drove to the clinic:

So I lay down what I cannot hold in my hands
Every sorrow and hope spinning out of control
And here I find sweet resolution comes in letting go
And we will find shelter here

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Results: Negative.

So very tired of bad news.