Today I anticipated the day that I wait for almost every month. The day where I get to test to see whether I am pregnant. I wait with bated breath to see what lines form on that little pee stick. Instinctively I know that the result will be negative. My breasts don't hurt. I am not tasting that metallic taste in my mouth. I am not particularly hormonal.
Yet I stay. Watching. Waiting the full three minutes for the results to appear. Then when I don't like the results, waiting a few more. Until it hits me. No matter how long I stay sitting on that toilet, I can't will those two little pink lines to form. Another month. Now I start the process all over again. The ovulation calculators and tests. The wondering if I should have a glass of wine or take an allergy medication for fear that it will affect the baby that just might be in my belly. Another month.
Lulu
it will happen.
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