Who knew that the journey to try to have another baby would be full of heartache, disappointment, anxiety?
I sure as hell didn’t.
We’ve only been doing this for two months.
The first month resulted in what I’m assuming was a chemical pregnancy.
This month resulted in nothing. I woke up with a massive headache this morning. It’s Abel’s birthday today. I wanted so badly to have a positive pregnancy test as a gift for him. I took one first thing this morning. Negative. I told myself it was still early.
My headache was not subsiding, so Abel sent me back to bed around 11:00. I slept until 2:00. I got up, went to the restroom.
Never did I figure I could be so disappointed in a bathroom. It’s usually a pretty happy place for me.
I swear I stared at the tp in utter disbelief for a good 5 minutes.
I could tell myself that this just isn’t our month, that it will happen when it’s supposed to, it’s in God’s hands, blah, blah, blah.
I’m incredibly sad about this. It hurts, a lot more than I anticipated it would.
I want a baby. I want to cuddle, hold, smell, nuture a baby. I want Poopy to be a big sister. I want to be a Mom again.