It’s been a funny day. Well not at all actually, it’s been crippling.
My usual clockwork period was 4 days late. Of course I got my hopes up. Of course I did tests, every day. Begging the universe that it was just too early to pick up the hormones.
I ended up getting my period and as I broke the news to my husband who had been trying to be cool about my lateness too, he had news.
His younger sister is pregnant. She’s been with this guy (who we haven’t even met, yet they live down the street) for not even half a year. And puff, the baby dust delivered to them.
To say we cried feels like an understatement. I’ve actually never seen him cry in the entire 10 years we’ve been together.
We had our rawest conversation about it. He said how he knows one day it’ll be us, but doesn’t think I believe in it…
I told him how I dream of telling him, I’ve thought about ways I’d break the news… the letters I would write through my pregnancy, then every year, all gifts I’d give them to read on their special birthday so they would finally 100% understand how badly we wanted them.
I said how I have this stupid thought that somehow they’re trying to tell us, from the future that they’re trying to get here as fast as they can, and to be patient.
How I’m not religious but I have to believe we’re being tested and that we only get dealt what we can cope with.
But I don’t know if I can cope… it’s very hard, as I know you’ll know if you’re reading this.
And if you are reading this, I’m sending you a hug because I know you know what I’m going through, and we are in this together, as strangers.