Oh, and did I mention?

When we moved here, Michael bought football season tickets for his undergrad school. The woman next me spent the entire time talking to her husband about how swollen her feet are... how tired she is... rubbing her noticably round belly - mutter that she just doesn't understand how her friend is having such a hard time getting pregnant - I mean all you have to do is have sex - how hard is that?

I sat there, at first, and tried to tune it out. I sang along with the fight song, I jumped up and screamed during the touchdown... I did anything to drown her out.

I mean, how hard is it?

On the 2 hour drive home, he looked over at me sulking in the seat, put his hand over mine and said "I'm so sorry." I didn't know what he was talking about - and he said quietly "I know how long you've wanted this, how much it means to you, and I'm so sorry it's not happening. I'm so sorry that I'm not able to give you what you want. I love you and I'm just so sorry." He kissed my hand and then turned up the radio.

My husband is an affectionate person, but not quite the type to talk about these kind of things on a regular basis.

It does hurt. I do want it a lot, but if we have to wait - we have to wait. The way I look at it, at least I get to spend this time with him in the interim. And that, in itself is a gift.