Living up to my name.

Heather fell alseep in my arms many hours ago now. We have the air conditioner going pretty much non-stop, but for some reason or another the house still seems a bit warm. Long story short: I woke up because I was uncomfortable from the heat. She meanwhile is still soundly asleep.

There’s not alot to add from what she already said about the visit. I’ve directed my emotions into the role of Devils’ advocate and the ugly, ugly realist that lurks in corners and dashes hopes. I’d like to think the truth might prepare her for the pain, but I think we all know that’s folly. There’s entirely too much emotion wrapped up in this subject for any acceptance of the truth.

The reality is that she is still menopausal and we’ve seen an overgrowth of the lining. It most conviently explains the “Why now?” question without introducing any miracles or beating incredible odds. The simplest answer is usually the right one.

I am more upset that this aspect of nature had to arrive now. In some way I feel like it’s a very cruel joke. Suddenly after five years a little gremlin of the body has set her up for a painfall fall again. It tossed out a tasty treat that was impossible to ignore.

I ask for Heather to try and ignore those hopes. To accept the painful answer now, but I might as well ask a STOP sign to say GO. She wants a child so badly that it basically haunts her. I don’t know if she’ll ever escape that ghost.

Of course another painful reality is that I can’t make this pain go away. No amount of tears, love, or comfort can make this better and I think that’s what hurts me the most. This is a ghost that tortures us both in different ways.