What Failure Looks Like: Exhibit B
I took that picture of my cozy period panties with fresh new blood, pussy stains & hours old blood back in December after a particularly sad start (we'd hoped we'd conceived near Thanksgiving when I'm sure I ovulated; my period started after I'd been SO SURE I was pregnant and had spent time lovingly decorating our Christmas tree, thinking it would be the last Christmas we'd have without kids and looking forward to sharing a tree with them in the future.
After the initial disappointment, though, I remembered how much I love my period. It felt like my body was comforting me with warmth and color and proof that I'm alive and working properly inside. Cuddling up in bed with my period and two hot water bottles (one for my crampy abdomen and one for my feet) was the perfect treatment to feeling shitty about not being pregnant.
If I can't be pregnant, at least I can have my period. That's pretty nice.
Read more about how I feel about this on my (in)fertility blog with Exhibit A.