Nope, that's not a magic spell - it's Hebrew. Yesterday concluded Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, in which we, the Jews, rang in 5778 with apples dipped in honey and sweet, cinnamon challah. It's a time for reflection and a time for hope and optimism. Those two are tough to wrangle right now, given all this shit. And this. And this. Oh, and infertility sucks too.
Besides the food, Rosh Hashanah predominantly features attending services where there is a lot of singing (at my temple, anyway), praying, and shofar-blowing. In fact, here's Mayim Bialik to explain. Anyway, the point is that I've been doing a lot of thinking about the future. Ironically, my Cycle Day 1 coincided with the new year! This has proven helpful, as I am starting the next phase of this journey with the same energy and drive I always apply to new year's resolutions (Jewish and secular).
I've also had a minor epiphany. Given our plan (a 3-cycle package .- 3 retrievals, 3 transfers), and our financial situation, this year is it. Next Rosh Hashanah, I will either be pregnant or I will never be pregnant. Doesn't mean I'll never be a mom, but I will never be pregnant. It's sobering, but also oddly comforting. I'm glad I have a plan, and I'm glad it has an end, no matter what happens.