In some ways, it feels like there's a lot riding on this cycle. It's my last chance to be pregnant on my miscarried pregnancy's due date. It's our last natural cycle before moving onto Femara and monitoring. And if we actually conceived this month, my due date will be my best friend's birthday. Seeing those two lines next week would just be a huge sigh of relief in so many ways. But I'm strangely calm this week, and I'm not sure whether it's the careful attention I've been paying to my health, an answered prayer for peace and tranquility, or just a sign of absolute surrender. One can only grieve at a fever pitch for so long, I suppose. It's like a baby crying - eventually they tire themselves out and just relax into sleep.

My nephew is scheduled to arrive on Friday - his mom had a c-section with my niece, so they've planned a second c-section for this little guy. My husband and I are driving up to see them the day after he's born. I have to say, I have dreaded this day for so long. I felt like -how am I supposed to see and hold and love this baby, knowing that - had things been different - I would have been enormously pregnant right now with his would-be cousin? How do I congratulate my brother and sister in law when I'm just seething with jealousy? And how am I ever going to be able to put on a happy face for this whole thing?

But now that he's almost here, I honestly don't feel anything but joy. My tiny, lovely nephew is a completely different baby than the one that I lost. He's not a symbol of everything I don't have, or everything that might have been - he's just a baby. And I really can't wait to meet him. I can't wait to be his auntie and give him snuggles and kisses and spoil him rotten. I'm so excited and happy that, just like with his adorable and sweet older sister, I'm going to have the privilege of being his aunt. It's going to be awesome, I just know it.

In the meantime, I've been thinking about what I want to do to mark my would-have-been due date on August 1st. I know I definitely want to write a letter to the son that we're missing, but I'm also feeling a need to have some sort of ritual. I could go to church and say a rosary... spend some time in the botanic gardens... go to the beach and dip myself in the ocean and contemplate the infinite. None of that stuff really feels right, though. So I'm hoping it will come to me. Until it does, I'm just so grateful for this newfound sense of peace. I hope it lasts for a very long time.