I felt a bit sad today. I was walking W in the morning, the sun was shining and everyone was out. The park was filled with families and as I saw this mum with her kid it hit me. I’m not any closer to getting pregnant and having a baby of my own.
When we started a year ago I was hoping to have a little baby for Christmas, or at least be pregnant and preparing our lives for one. Instead it’s been hospital visits, bad news and stress over ovulation and how to keep ourselves together through this.
Because we keep trying. Of course we do. But nothing happens and I hate the signs my body gives that not this time either.
It’s fucking heartbreaking.
When I lay awake at night I hurt. Deep down. In the very core of me that have always loved children and seen myself as a mum.
And I try so so hard to stay positive and not bring George down with me and think that it will work out and sometimes it works.
But then it hits me. That nothing has worked out. We are still not closer and I have no idea how long and hard this journey will be. And that is the hardest part of all. That realising no matter how positive I make myself stay, how much energy I spend on keeping myself together and how much I share and try and get through we are still not closer to have that little baby.
I have lit all my candles to try and make the world a little bit easier and softer. It’s needed today.