Falling Into Place

I am currently living in the house that h1 (husband #1) and I bought 7 years ago. When we split I refinanced, gave him some money and put the house in my name. BJ and the Little Guy moved in with me. The house needed some updating to say the least. I have a basement that was only partially finished, needed new floors and paint all over the place, better appliances and all that jazz. Over the past 3 years BJ and I have done (and hired people to do) just about everything imaginable to make the house nice to sell. We don't want to live in the neighborhood we are in and we want to live closer to the Little Guy's school and shorten our commute. The house we are in now would have been difficult to have a baby in because the 3rd bedroom is downstairs in the basement. We finally put the house on the market at the beginning of May not knowing for sure how long it would sit there. Hoping that the house would sell and that we would be able to buy a house before I had a baby. The IVF was coming up fast and we had high hopes. Everything seemed to be falling into place...new house, new baby...it was going to be great.

We got a contract on the house while we were in Atlantic City (go figure) and were thrilled! Things were REALLY falling into place now. We had looked at a couple houses just to get an idea of what we wanted but were leaning toward having a house built in a new development in a great location for us. We were a little stressed because we didn't expect the house to sell so fast and now we needed a place to live and fast. Our realtor actually has a rental property that she is going to rent to us while our house is being built. She knows the flexibility we need and she's fine with the cat. Things couldn't fall into place any better than that, right?

And then Tuesday morning happened.

The 4 bedroom house with the big backyard doesn't seem so appealing now. Every time I look at the floor plans and see bedroom number #4, right next to the Master, just begging to be a nursery, I get sick to my stomach. I should be pregnant. I should be sitting on the sidelines overseeing BJ and his friends carrying everything and doing ALL the heavy lifting. I should be planning where I want to put the crib and what the theme will be in bedroom #4. I should be envisioning the Little Guy and our toddler running around the back yard chasing a puppy or splashing around in the pool we will eventually get. I should be picking out a stroller to push around our newly constructed neighborhood. There should be pink or blue balloons on my new mailbox and a steady stream of visitors in our new driveway. Maybe I have asked for too much.

Things couldn't have fallen more out of place. I would like to think that we could save up money and try this IVF thing again. There isn't time. We gave ourselves a deadline of this year and there's not enough time to save that kind of money before the end of the year. I don't want my quest for a baby to be over but I'm not real sure of how to keep it going, either. My last shred of hope is that I tested too early and something will happen tomorrow to blow my mind. I need a magnifying glass to find that shred of hope but it's there none the less.