Five more days, I told myself. If nothing happens in five more days, then I'll start to wonder.
Five days went by.
Three more days. I won't think about it for three more days.
Three days went by.
And then a couple more.
I didn't say a thing to anyone. I barely even acknowledged that growing hope myself. There was a world of emotions brewing below the surface that I never fully explored. I got glimpses though...
Joy...at the thought of another baby.
Relief...at the thought of bringing another baby into our family without paying thousands and thousands of dollars.
Fear...that I would be shunned by the adoption community. That I would somehow be a hypocrite. That Jocelyn's birth mom would hate us. That someday, Jocelyn would hate us. And hate her sibling. And hate her birth parents. That our families would look at our children differently.
Trepidation...at the idea of pregnancy and childbirth.
Faith...that God had healed me.
Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore and I told my best friend who lives in Seattle. I asked her not to make a big deal because it was probably nothing, because I couldn't deal with excitement and what-ifs and expectations. Her only words were that I was crazy for waiting and building walls. She suggested I take a test, because then I would know for sure. Because the hope would grow daily. Better to know sooner and deal with whatever fallout the news would bring.
I went home that night. I still had a pregnancy test from the days when we were actually trying. I would use it the next morning.
Laying in bed that night, fantasies swirled in my head. Telling Justin the good news. Seeing a dancing peanut shape on a sonogram. Would we want to know the gender? Announcing it in Relief Society. Darling maternitiy clothes. Photo sessions. Would I be brave enough to try to have a natural childbirth or would I go straight for the epidural?
The next morning, I peed on a stick.
Three minutes later, it unassumingly flashed the words Not Pregnant.
I threw the test and the box and the instructions away in the kitchen garbage where my husband wouldn't find them.
I texted Jamie and told her. We made a lunch date that we knew neither one of us could keep. I hate that we live so far apart.
An hour and a half later, I cried. Just a little. But I cried.
I had no idea this would still happen to me. Not that we do anything as a preventative measure, but I'd kind of given up on that whole pursuit.
I thought I was past this.The problem with undiagnosed infertility is there is always a sliver of hope. There's no documented reason for the infertility. And maybe, just maybe, given the right circumstances under the right star signs, maybe pregnancy will happen.
It hurts as much as it ever has.
Touché, infertility. Touché.