Most of you will know by now that Christian and I are trying for a baby. What most of you didn't know was that for almost two weeks now, there was a bloody good chance I was pregnant.
It started with my period being late. I've not ever had cause for my periods being late before but I waited it out a little. Then I started feeling a bit sick every now and then and rushing to the loo at lot. So I did a test. Negative. No worries, it's early days yet and not everyone does a positive test in the first few weeks.
Fast forward to this week and my monthlies still hadn't arrived and my hopes started rising. Add to this that I had been so tired that I could hardly stay awake past 8pm and everyone I spoke too assured me I would be popping out a mini-me by Christmas.
So I did another test yesterday. I have never been so nervous in my life. I had butterflies in my stomach and I was almost giddy with excitement. I had let everyone talk me into getting excited. Against my better judgement, I was convinced I was pregnant.
When that second damn line failed to show, I felt sick. There had to be some mistake. My period was two weeks late. How could I not be pregnant? All the signs were there, what was I missing?
I was so upset. I bawled like the baby I so desperately want and wallowed in my own misery. To make matters worse, early this morning my period started, snuffing out the last flicker of hope I had left. I guess I should look at the positives - that I won't have to deal with throwing up every five minutes on the plane to Scotland for one, having another 'Libra wisdom' post for another.
And so next month begins and we'll try again. However, this time I will not get excited until I have two bloody lines show up on that stupid little pee test.