One more day

16 Sep

One more day until I get my period.

Of course, logic tells me that it’s going to happen this month, just like every other. I’ve had the same damn symptoms – sore boobs, cramps, and uncontrollable moments of sobbing at the Huggies ads – but there’s still this glimmer of hope on the horizon that I’m able to torment myself with.

Because, you see, my temperature hasn’t dropped. It probably will tomorrow, but I was expecting it to today. So when it didn’t my heart caught in my throat and I’ve been left with the thought all day that maybe, just maybe, we hit the baby jackpot. That the stork has finally figured out our address. That the baby blanket I’ve been crocheting is actually for me this time.

Of course, tomorrow I’m probably going to be an emotional mess. This has happened before – right before the wedding my predictable-as-a-Swiss-train period was a couple of days late because I’d managed to get myself so worked up my body simply lost track of the days. And it hurt. Because then, like now, I’d got myself completely wrapped up in the excitement that things were actually happening down there.

Sigh. Silly me.

While I know the chances of me being pregnant this month are slim, I can’t help but feel we’re in with a shot. I’ve been taking my temps, I scored some lovin’ on all the right days, and there’s nothing wrong with either of us (that we know of). And I want it so much I’ve given up tea, alcohol, sushi and soft cheese, just in case. I’ve given up TEA, little microscopic egg. That’s how much your would-be mother loves you.

So I know I’m going to wake up disappointed tomorrow, and I know that this tiny little scrap of hope I’m living on is going to make me into an emotional wreck, but I simply can’t stop myself. It’s so hard to try, and fail, and not know what you should be doing differently to make it all better. The days grind to a halt as you wait for yet another morning of elevated temps, waiting and waiting until you can reliably test for two little red lines. Friends around you get pregnant in a heartbeat; have babies, plan their second, moan about the vomiting, sore boobs and lack of sleep that you’d so dearly love to have. Anything to avoid another two week wait of hope, nerves, and eventual heartbreak.

I never thought it’d be this hard. I never thought we’d have any trouble conceiving. I never thought it’d hurt so much each month, that I’d want it so bad it would feel like I could hardly breathe. I never thought I’d be so wrapped up in the idea of starting a family that I’d spend my days willing that little microscopic egg to just stay, stay¸ for one more day, and then another, and another. I never thought I’d get upset when I saw my friends have kids before me. I never thought that I’d never want to talk about it.

But for today, there’s one more day. One more day of anticipation that I can hang on to. I just hope that that little egg is holding on as tight as I am.


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