Another month has come and gone without getting those two pink lines on that stick. Even though you did everything humanly possible to try to get the perfect chance of a positive.
You tracked your basal temperature and used an ovulation stick every single day, waiting for that line to darken for your best chances of conceiving.
You and your husband tried every other day, for five days, right in the middle of that “perfect fertility window”.
You bought conception friendly lubricant and you sat with your legs in the air to try to let gravity help things along.
You took the expensive prenatal vitamins, fish oil, and every other supplement you’ve read about daily. You drank fertility tea and haven’t had a glass of wine in MONTHS just in case you were to conceive.
You cut out soy and anything processed that could interfere with healthy hormones.
You tracked every symptom and mood change in your fertility app.
You maybe even went to the doctor for blood work to make sure your hormones weren’t needing any extra help.
You sat anxiously through the “two week wait” overthinking anything that could possibly be a sign.
You scrolled past daily pregnancy announcements, bump updates, and precious baby milestone pictures on Facebook just hoping this time you’d get to join in on it.
You’re happy for your friends but also so disappointed that you haven’t had your own announcement yet. You Googled “early signs of pregnancy” and tried to find any of them.
Your breasts are bruised from trying to determine if they were getting sore or not.
You prayed for some nausea every morning before you got out of bed.
You tried to tell yourself that even though mood swings are also a symptom of PMS . . . that this time it was because of pregnancy.
You maybe even gave in and took a pregnancy test a few days early and when it was negative, you gave yourself the “well it hasn’t been two full weeks yet” pep talk.
You did it all. Everything the blogs and all of your well-meaning friends suggested you try.
Then on test day you did it. You peed on the stick and then you sat on the ground with your phone timer set for three minutes and you prayed. Please, PLEASE, let it be this month.
Your timer went off and you took a deep breath . . .
And there was still only one line on that test.
And whether it’s your first month of trying or your fortieth . . . you’re deflated.
Another month of nothing.
Another month of waiting for your period to come and go, then waiting for the two weeks to pass until you ovulate, and then again another two-week wait to take a pregnancy test . . . and that’s IF you have a regular cycle.
If you’ve been trying awhile, you will call your doctor and cry and maybe it’s time for blood work and an ultrasound to see what’s going on in your body. Maybe it’s time for your partner to get checked out, too.
You might be battling PCOS, endometriosis, side effects from chemotherapy or other medications you’ve taken. You could be against fibroids, cysts, limited eggs, low sperm motility, and a whole host of other obstacles. Your age may even be a factor by now. You’re so discouraged, maybe even over it. You’ve made the decision to start or further your family and once that desire is inside of you, it’s so hard to deal with not getting it right away. It’s even harder when you’ve experienced loss along the way. Miscarriages, chemical pregnancies, giving birth to a sleeping baby, losing your baby after birth, or even losing a child that you had years with . . . all loss makes that desire to be someone’s mom burn inside of you like a furnace.
Even if you have other children, it’s OK to want more and be sad when it’s just not happening. People will say “Why don’t you just be done? Be happy with the kids you have.” Or, “There are so many kids who need adopting, why don’t you spend your money there.” There’s truth in that but, you’re just not there yet for whatever reason and that’s OK. You want to carry life inside of you. You want the experience and the bonding. You want the kicks and even the labor.
And that’s OK.
But it’s also OK to be done. Whatever you and your family and doctors decide . . . is OK. And it’s OK to keep trying. Because maybe, next month, you’ll see those two pink lines.
Originally Published on Her View From Home