We are trying for #3. And I just took another pregnancy test and it was negative. A big digital “no” with a negative sign was on the screen. I sort of already knew, because nothing was happening (and I have been taking pregnancy tests every week to be sure), but there is always that glimmer of hope that maybe I was wrong. Am I even ovulating? I have no fucking clue. I thought I knew what I was doing, but then again, I thought I knew with #2, and read the ovulation test that I wasn’t ovulating, when apparently I was. I’m bummed and I can feel the avoidance thoughts, nagging at my brain, trying to invade again.
I know I should be happy. I have two beautiful children who make me laugh and always surprise me, and a husband who loves me. My youngest is close to being out of diapers (big victory when that actually happens) and my eldest is so helpful that they offer to take out the vacuum to clean their own mess, as well as make their own lunch (yes, at 4 years old). My life has gotten seemingly easier overall, and they are becoming more and more independent, with just enough need for mommy that it reminds me of why I am here. But still. I can’t get the thought out of my head that I always wanted three.
It always seems that when you want to be pregnant, everyone around you is talking about it or is. I know a woman who I had talked to about having three, and then she told me she was pregnant. I was so happy for her and wished her luck, and her response was, “I thought you were going to try for 3?” Yes, I was. I am trying, lady, but nothing doing yet. And thank you for reminding me. A coworker was talking about how they were curious about our maternity time offered at work. “But I’m not pregnant…” she claimed. Yup, and that’s why you were only drinking a water at our work outing when you normally are on beer number 3 when everyone else is on their first. Riiiiiiiiiiiiiight. It also doesn’t help that one of my close friends and coworkers gives me the eyeball whenever we talk about people being pregnant, and watching me closely while I am out for drinks with work to see what I order and how much I drink. Yes, I am trying, but you know what? I am going to drink while I can because I can’t wait around hoping it will happen. That’s like waiting for a watched pot to boil.
It sucks. I can feel myself slipping back into the same ol’ feelings again. The ones where I am envious of people who are pregnant and have newborns because I know I want one more and then I’ll be done. I want to avoid friends who are newly pregnant with their second or third because I am waiting for something to happen for me. And those feelings where I think to myself, maybe I really am pregnant and I just don’t know it yet (like those shows on tv, but I’m not as far along as those crazy ladies). I suppose that it doesn’t help that with my second I really did NOT know until I went for my annual. So that makes me have that little glimmer of hope that it could be true again. Why does all of this have to be so much work?
I want to be happy for those who tell me they are pregnant. I want to be happy, I truly do. But I can’t. For once in my mommyhood since I’ve felt balanced mentally on top of always thinking about everyone else, I think I can be selfish and say that I just want to hide for awhile. I am happy for my two lovies and my awesome husband. And I know if I start to feel like shit again I’ll go back to get help. I’ll move on. But I am going to sit and dwell for a bit because I am not supermom; I am only human.