Yesterday, I should have been 6 months pregnant. It’s weird to think about that. Especially since I thought about it the day before it arrived, but then didn’t think about it until the evening on the day of. Like it almost didn’t register to me. Except it did. I very much wish things were different, that I was out buying baby items, figuring out a boy name if the baby were a boy (we can only agree on a girl name), and getting ready for life with a child. Instead, I’m taking my temperature every morning at 5:30am, trying out ovulation predictor kits, and checking my cervical mucus.
Last time I wrote about trying to have a baby was right before ovulating last cycle. We timed it wrong, based on my fertility friend, although if sperm really does live for more than two days then it hypothetically could have worked. This time, we will hopefully have better timing. It’s so weird getting used to having timed sex. I know people say “just have sex” but since I have all this knowledge now, I can’t just let it go. I have to use it. Knowledge is power, it gives me control. Too bad some things are out of your control.
However, I have hope. Hope that I will be pregnant with a healthy baby sometime in the near future. Hope that my baby will live a long, healthy life full of love and happiness. Hope that maybe, just maybe, this is the cycle that works. Because if I don’t have hope, then what’s the point?