Sad Birthday

This weekend four sad things happened: 1.  I've been pushing James to interview for a new job, or at least just go and see what's out there.  It's been so scary and hard for him (his family thinks it's disloyal to the current boss to look for another job) that he's been miserable.  And I mean, miserable to be around too.  He's been so snippy and cranky, that I have gotten to the end of my patience.  By the end of the week I started crying because I just could not be patient and kind any more.  He was repentant, of course.  But what a drain. 2. We went to a family reunion for his mom's side of the family.  There were lots of little children, including a toddler and a newborn.  I held the newborn a lot and fantasized about keeping her.  I got a bottle/formula stain on the breast area of my sweater.  A sad reminder. 3. Saturday morning, before the reunion, I saw some spotting in my underwear.  I don't know what "spotting" is as compared to "the beginning of one's period."  And I know we're not supposed to be guessing about pregnant/not pregnant, considering that we're all full of hormones producing symptoms left and right, but I would rather not have seen any blood.  It made my heart sink. 4. Sunday was my birthday.  James had had such a hard time last week, and then we traveled immediately to Chicago, so he didn't get me anything for my birthday.  Not even a card.  He said he felt bad about it, and I frankly think he should have.  He knew I was sad about being 36 without a baby (I woke up crying about it).  In the afternoon he said our new bedframe had been my birthday present, even though we bought that together a few weeks before without any mention of it being "my present."  I was really hurt that he didn't even get me a card.  In the evening, after we'd eaten our lovely take-out meal and he gave me my shot, he got me my estrogen and baby aspirin pills.  He came out of the kitchen with five fresh-baked cookies (he'd had the dough refrigerated) on a plate in a circle around the two pills.  As he handed it to me, he sang happy birthday.  That, I had to admit, was very sweet and cute.   But all the same, I'd rather not be 36 and babyless. Wednesday is the beta test.  I'm still spotting.  Not feeling very hopeful.