You know what's worse than the monthly reminder that you're not pregnant?
A late period.
This might be too much information, so I'll keep it short while keeping it real. For most people, being two weeks late means pregnancy. Not true for me. Yet, I still dream, hope, wish and think of names or how to rearrange furniture, hoping beyond hope that I'm one of the few whose tests continue to show false negatives. At the same time, I'm hoping that AF (as it (Aunt Flo[w]) is referred to in the world of TTC (trying to conceive), which really is its own world) will come soon and end the misery of waiting.
Sorry, but this is the bane of my existence.
I should add that no matter how much I want to pity myself, I can usually think of at least one person who has it worse than me. It's a depressing way to make myself feel less sorry for myself. Enough negativity (unless it's a preg. test...)! I can only handle so many of these depressing posts.
I also by the grace of God, have been able to see a little bit of purpose in all this. Still painful, but with some kind of God-glorifying purpose.