It was this same week last year that the Mister and I conceived for the first and only time. After almost 2 years of trying, we were elated. I can't say for certain if it was actually ON Valentine's Day that we conceived, but when we found out we were pregnant, we joked that it must have been the "hot Valentine's Day lovin' that did the trick." *sigh* Those were happy days.
I am not naive enough, a year later, to hope for a magical repeat of last year. After the miscarriage and D&C, and then waiting for two cycles (doctor's orders) before we started trying, it has been 8(?) months of not conceiving. And of course, there is the diagnosis from Dr. A. Hole to consider: Elevated FSH levels, indicating diminished ovarian reserve and poor egg quality. As someone close to me indelicately phrased it, "your ovaries are drying up!" (Thanks for that, really, that makes me feel special).
Well, I know that there are going to be a lot of babies conceived tonight. But not for Frenchie*.
(*Note: Dear God, if you exist, and if by some weird chance you're reading this post, I would be very grateful to be proven wrong. Really, if you wanted to make an example of me and point out that I don't know everything by actually helping me to get pregnant, I'd be willing to accept that. Go on, prove me wrong. Take me down a peg! I deserve it!)