I'm not going to go into the long history that is my infertility. I have a beautiful, intelligent, and extremely hilarious child who, in her 9 years on terra firma, has blessed me in ways I can't even begin to articulate. She wants siblings, my hubby & I want babies, so for nearly 4 years now, we've been trying to conceive. No babies yet. (On the bright side, there haven't been any miscarriages or otherwise heart-wrenching pregnancy stuff which would be much worse than simple infertility.) We are what you would call "working poor". Meaning we can afford to provide for our child & any subsequent children, but our employers don't provide insurance, we can't afford the high premiums to get insurance on our own, and we don't qualify for state medical coverage. Therefore, seeing a specialist is out of the question. Doing that would put us into so much debt that it would be irresponsible to have another child b/c after the medical bills, we wouldn't be able to afford to provide for them. So we have no clue if it's my utes, his swimmers, or a combination of the two. And we have no clue if we will ever have biological children together, but all signs point to no.
I say all that to say this: my subconscious is a cruel, evil bitch with an obvious malicious intent. Last night I dreamed that I had to take a pregnancy test for some random reason. Probably something completely ridiculous b/c it was a dream & dreams are absurd. I told several people that I knew it would be negative & I truly believed it was going to be. But when I took the test, it was an immediate positive. First there was shock. Then came this feeling of relief that just enveloped me so completely. I couldn't wait to tell my hubby & my kiddo that our family was growing. It was this amazingly perfect moment w/ the kind of joy that is unparalleled.
And then my alarm went off.
And then I remembered that "shark week" is right around the corner & I have all the symptoms of impending menses.
And then I remembered that my hubby & I have this awesomely bad timing when it comes to sex & the last few months we have not gotten busy on the days I should be fertile. (Side note/history lesson: my periods used to be completely wacky & sporadic. They have been like clockwork for the past 3 years or so. I can TOTALLY track when my utes are doing the baby dance.) This month was no exception for aforementioned non-sexing.
And then I remembered that this is the point where I can either get depressed about it or dust myself off & move along. I've chosen the latter b/c it's the grown-up thing to do. That doesn't mean it doesn't make me sad. The idea of never having a biological child with Justin breaks my heart. I hate that my child wants a sibling so bad, she asks about it or mentions it at least once a week. The fact that I have to explain it to her so often keeps the wound fresh for me & sometimes, I can't help but cry about it. But it's just one of those things where I have to put on my big-girl panties & trudge on. Despite my brain's obvious evil plot against me.