Today I am feeling pessimistic. For days, I have been hopeful and optimistic and relatively low-key, but today I am pessimistic. I don’t feel pregnant.
I didn’t feel pregnant yet, last time.
But still, I don’t. I feel like this month isn’t the month. And I know that that’s okay, and we’ll just keep trying, and it’s no big deal, but right now in this moment it IS a big deal. To me. We get pregnant at the drop of a hat. It’s the only thing we have going for us, reproductively speaking. Now I don’t have that, either? We just continue to wait, and wait, and wait, and edge ever closer to the time of year I got pregnant with Amy, the one time I would really prefer NOT to get pregnant this time. Will this time take a year? Can we not get pregnant, anymore? Is something wrong? Does this god you speak of hate me?
So yeah, pessimistic. Which is probably putting it mildly. And is a little silly, frankly, because I am still two days away from the day I got a positive test last time. A line so faint that I didn’t even see it until a trick of the light revealed it to me four hours later. A line so faint I asked Dan if he saw it, and he had to hold it up to a window to even make it out, and I had to take three more tests that made the same, practically invisible line before I believed.
But still, I don’t feel pregnant, and I am a swirl of sad and jealous and what do we do now. I hope I’m wrong, but I think I’m not. So for today, if it’s okay, I’m just going to mope about it. I can be optimistic tomorrow.