So. I’m just going to go ahead and put this out there.
My husband and I are trying to have a baby. And contrary to popular belief, it’s probably one of the most difficult things to try and do in the world. It’s not as easy as the bird and the bee got a little friendly and out popped a animorph.
We’ve been trying for about 4 months now and the number of negative pregnancy tests is about double that. So essentially twice the heart break has happened. I get that 4 months isn’t that long to have been trying but it’s never easy to hope and hope and hope only to not get the results you wanted.
Now before you go and assume I’m just being impatient, it took my parents 8 years to have me…8 fucking years! And not because they waited or didn’t want me. So 4 months does freak me the fuck out, because I don’t want to wait 8 years…because what if there is something wrong with me? It kills me to think that I could potentially be the reason my amazing husband never gets to be a father, that we never get to experience having our own family.
We haven’t told many people in our lives that we are trying so everyone keeps asking when we’re going to have one. And then the comments roll in like “it can’t be that hard” or “you should start trying for real” if it’s that fucking easy you do it. You take over our bodies and tell me what I’m doing wrong because I don’t know. Because it might not really be as easy as they say.
I’d kill to be the girl who got knocked up “by accident” or to not have planned for a baby and it just happened. Instead I’m the girl who crosses her fingers every month and hope this time is it.
I’m the girl who struggles to have a baby.