And we're down again

My spotting seemed to stop over the weekend...I was drinking Red raspberry tea, and lounging around, trying to keep whatever was going on in my uterus going. I thought, maybe we have a chance in hell here. Maybe I should listen to my DOCTOR for once, and not rely on my enormous fertility knowlege store, focus on the fact that my numbers doubled. Maybe I ovulated a day or two later than I thought?
Who knows?
Fat chance.
The thing is, Ignorance is bliss. Knowlege ain't so bliss. Though there are plenty of women that don't know their ovaries from their corpus luteum, who get pregnant accidentally and don't know for months...we, ladies, are not those women. We know when we ovulate, how high betas should be and when, we pee on things obsessively, and although we are optimistic....
we are informed. Very, very informed.
So when my spotting never went away completely, I knew not to get my hopes up too high. The higher they get, the harder they fall.
Monday morning at 5am, Cramps and contractions woke me out of my slumber. I went to the bathroom, sat on the toilet and wiped. Red. Very, very red. Got down on my hands and knees and concentrated- where was the pain, exactly? Could it be my bowels, or gas? I felt my lower abdomen squeeze and throb, and I knew it was definetely not anything but my uterus. I got my husband, because I was afraid that I would need to go to the hospital. The pain was very intense for about 10 minutes, 5 of which I was shaking uncontrollably. I think it was of fear, but it could have been a chemical reaction.
Then, out of nowhere...I wanted to go back to bed and sleep. The pain disipated.
Relief.
The next day, the bleeding got heavier and heavier, until all I was passing was clots. Every time I went to the bathroom. K came into the bathroom with me when he heard me sobbing. We just sat there, in our little powder room, knowing that this was really it.
After a two week wait from HELL, although I am sad, and deflated....I am relieved. I feel like I can breath again. Get out and not feel guilty for not being on bedrest. Have sex again, soon.
And try again. Dust myself off, and try again. It appears that this chick is no wimp. I am strong and resiliant, and I can bear painful, rewardless contractions at 5am, know that childbirth will be 100 times worse, and still want to try again.
I guess this really is women's work.
It's hard, ugly, dirty, painful, heartwrenching...but if women didn't suck it up and do it, none of us would be here. I know this crap could happen again. But there is nothing I can think of that is more powerful than nurturing a life for nine months and gruntingly, pantingly, exhileratingly....push it into the world. And for that prospect, I will try again.
If the tables were turned and it was the men that got to experience this raw human experience, I would be jealous.

That's how I know it will be worth it. All of this. For all of us. This is what we were built for ladies.