I took a test Friday night… There was nothing there. Not even anything close to resembling a line.
I cried, cried and cried some more. I didn’t realize how much I wanted it to be positive.
My husband has to work a split shift on Friday’s… He goes to work from 8-noon and back to work from 8-midnight. I took the test immediately after he left, only because I knew it would be negative and I didn’t want to lose control in front of him. I wanted to be cool, calm and collected, for him. I told him via text that the test was negative. I didn’t tell him that I was blaming God. I was so mad at God. Why can’t I get a positive test, why couldn’t there have been a line? Why wouldn’t you give me a chance to at least be pregnant again!
After a couple of hours, right around 10:30 I went back in the bathroom and reexamined the test. I turned the test every angle I possibly could. It was there. The faintest of faint lines. Was this a joke? My eyes were playing tricks on me. I took a picture of it and sent it to my husband. He said that he didn’t see anything but he would look at it when he got home. I felt like God was laughing at me. There, you want the line, I’ll give you the line. Fine. But a line means nothing.
When my husband got home, he went into the bathroom to look at the test. Yes, he confirmed there was a faint line.
Oh. My. God.
My heart started to sore. An ever so small glimmer of hope was there.
I wanted to take another test on Saturday. My husband asked me to wait. If it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be. It took every ounce of my being not to take a second test on Saturday. I continued taking my progesterone and Sunday morning, I took the second test.
I waited. I wanted to see if, after a time, I would see the faint line again.
I stopped taking progesterone. I know that I have to stop taking it or I won’t get my period. I thought my period started last night, but turns out it’s just discharge. For now. I’m sure I’ll get my period within the next couple of days.
And we’ll try again.
I went to a support group last night through “The Corner.” In person, for the first time ever, I was admitting my losses to complete strangers. It felt good, scary and emotional. I cried when I talked about my third pregnancy and how I was so disconnected to my baby. I blamed myself for not loving my third child because I knew I would never see him or her. I admitted to a couple who had just lost their first baby that it doesn’t get easier, just more tolerable. It was hard. But it was a good chance to recognize that we’re all going through a struggle and we don’t know why. As hard as it is for us to see pregnant moms, newborn babies, baby pictures everywhere, how hard is it for someone who just lost both her breasts to cancer to see lingerie? Breasts are everywhere, can you imagine losing both your breasts and having to see women every day who have “normal” breasts. Lingerie, swim suits, cute clothes… Our struggle isn’t any different. Everyone is fighting a battle.