I don’t really know how to say what is on my mind right now, let alone what my heart is trying to tell me. This is a baby blog. Just feel like I should mention that because I know not everyone wants to hear me go on and on about that.
I lost a lot of hope when AF arrived three weeks ago (tomorrow). It isn’t like I had a feeling last month would be our month, but I still had hope. I still thought we had done everything “right.” I still thought we would finally end up as part of the 20% that conceive naturally each month. But we didn’t. Turns out you can do everything “right” six months in a row and still end up with nothing more than a burrito baby in your belly.
I really don’t know what it was, but I was crushed in a way I still can’t fully understand when my chart turned from CD34, with a chance of being pregnant, to CD1 again, definitely not. I cried. I’ve cried before but it didn’t hurt that way. I cried when my best friend asked if I had any baby news to share yet, because I didn’t, my body had failed again. I cried when my _______ sister in law announced that she was pregnant again the day she got a positive test. It was a rough week. It was almost like I could feel my hope slipping away…and I let it.
I didn’t think I would have trouble getting pregnant. I thought I needed to be on the pill to prevent pregnancy and it turns out, I probably never needed it! At the beginning of this month I was ready to throw in the towel; to declare the game over. I was so over trying.
20 days later, I want this month to be *the month* we see two lines on a pregnancy test SO BAD. I foolishly looked up my possible due date and it would be in one of my dream months, at the beginning of October. (The other is November – I have always liked the idea of a late fall baby) And even more perfect is that the first day of the 2nd trimester, when we would announce on FB and stuff, is my Mom’s birthday. How great would that be? A girl can dream..
What I hope is that it turns out to be more than just a dream. I hope seven is our lucky number. I hope we aren’t still “practicing” and all this sex leads to something! I hope… and along with that comes fear and anticipation and the potential to be heartbroken again. Some people just have to drink too much, black out, and they end up with a baby, but that’s not our story. This is all part of my journey, our journey. To have hope, lose it and then finding it again when I least expect it. I hope it means something. They say anything worth having is.. well you know the rest.