I'm feeling much better now that we're taking a breather from the IVF.  We have an appointment with the RE next Friday, and today marks the one-week anniversary of our finding out the negative results.  In that week I've only seen and hissed at pregnant women, or thought about my one maternity dress, a few times.  Mostly what I've done is stuff I wouldn't have done if I were pregnant: we went to my in-laws' and cleaned out their attic, and I got to discover pictures and toys from my husband's childhood, which made me very happy.  I also interviewed for a contract (temporary) lawyer job at a non-profit.  I'm waiting to hear from them.  I've had 3 margaritas and one glass of wine and subsequently made out with my husband for fun instead of duty.  We're making plans to build a cobblestone sidewalk up to our front door, in time for trick-or-treaters.  And most of all, I'm getting back to the business of my day-to-day life, confident that I can plan at least 9 months out without any obstacles.  I have had glimpses of sadness, of course.  Most poignant was when I got my period on Sunday.  Every time I flushed the toilet I watched the blood run round in a downward spiral and be whisked away into the pipes.  I kept thinking of "flushing $15,000 down the toilet."  But I also kept thinking, "Were my babies in there this time?  Did I just flush my babies away?"  An embryo-baby distinction is a very hard one to make.  It's strange to look at drips of blood diluting in a bowl and feel your children slip away.  But mine are already gone.  And the next ones not "born" (conceived) yet.  Limbo lower now; how low can you go?