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Month one through three were fine enough. I went through post pill amenorrhea. Thanks for that protection from ages 15-31… but did you ruin my chances now? Don’t think I haven’t asked my doctors, I did; they denied it would be a problem… “it just takes time,” cue eye roll. I’m blessed enough to not have endo or other known fertility disorders; the worst I’ve had is a leep procedure, but again that rarely effects conceiving, or so I’ve been told. Speaking of endo, I’ve been on this journey with a friend/peer/former colleague who does have endo, as much as this hurts for me, I knows she suffering more. So again I ask, what right do I when to be so sad? She assures me that I have a right, but it’s hard to believe.

By month four through seven, it cuts deep. Every month I do more and more research, I implement changes to increase my chances. My life has been put on hold and for what? Disappointment. I stopped consuming alcohol and caffeine, I went on a fertility diet, did the ovulation tests, track periods and symptoms, used a reliable at home test kit for my husbands swimmers, had sex on the appropriate days, laid there long enough to probably give myself a UTI, legs above head (I know it’s a myth, but I’m desperate), used well researched lube, stopped doing research, and gave up social media. Aside from testing, I don’t think I can do much more. I swear if I hear one more time that testing can’t be done till one year, or worse that “it’ll happen when it happens,” “don’t stress it,” “everything happens for a reason,” “give it time” I swear I will scream and knock someone out.

I find myself fearing the week before I’m supposed to menstruate. Keeping an eye on symptoms from month to month, hoping for something to be different to indicate pregnancy. Hello gigantic fall!

I’ve been regular until last month. I bleed 5 days early and was joyous that it was possibly implantation bleeding, I didn’t sleep that night due to my excitement. Thoughts running through my head as to how I would tell my husband and family.

My soul died when I saw crimson the next morning. I wouldn’t doubt that my neighbors heard my sobs and saw me ugly cry outside while letting the dogs out. I was ruined and it was my fault, I got ahead of myself.

To say I’m miserable is an understatement. I can’t concentrate, I’m tired and irritable; I’m just sad! I find myself holding a bloated belly from time to time wondering if this will ever hold my baby, or if I’ll ever feel kicks. Why me? Why is this so difficult? Why won’t it just happen?

Not only do I feel like I’m disappointing myself, but also my husband and family. The pressure is coming from everywhere, but mostly from me. As my mom would say, I’m my own worst enemy because I’m always my harshest critic. If you’re type A, much like me, how can you not feel like this. It’s worse when you (me) know only two people who have gotten pregnant within the first month and everyone else has been plagued with miscarriages. First step- want and hope to get pregnant. Second step- keep pregnancy, if only we could actually be fully in control of that. But back to my point here, if these women are perfectly healthy and lose the baby, how could I be any different, but slow your roll woman, you have to get pregnant first.