First, I begin thinking about the day I find out… Monday, October 6th is day 28 of my cycle and the day I will be instructed to take a home test. I found out I was pregnant with Poppi on January 6th. So, maybe this is a sign? Maybe the 6th is a lucky day for me? If I were to find out I was pregnant on October 6th, my due date would be at or around July 17, 2015. That would be mine and Trav’s 5 year anniversary. That would be such an amazing anniversary gift! Maybe this is another sign? Once I’ve finished obsessing about the above coincidences, I begin planning how I would tell Trav and when and how we would tell our family and friends. I picture Poppi in the classic “Big Sister” t-shirt and I contemplate the idea of a gender reveal party. I revisit my ongoing list of baby names that I continually update in the notes section of my phone and speculate whether Trav and I will have as tough of a decision as last time. I wonder if he or she will look like Poppi and whether they will be best friends. I think about the need to upgrade my single stroller to a double and visualize my backseat with 2 car seats.
Now, as if all of that doesn’t drive me crazy enough I begin the stage where I resist over analyzing every cramp, ache, bout of nausea and many more “symptoms”. I used to regularly Google “early signs of pregnancy” and think that I had EVERY sign. I don’t Google that phrase anymore; mainly because I’ve done it so many times I know EVERY sign of early pregnancy. I also know that those could all be signs of your impending cycle. The funny part for me about over analyzing the early signs, is I felt none of those when I found out I was pregnant with Poppi or when I found out I was pregnant with Baby V # 2 and in the back of my mind I suspect my next time around will be the same. So, even though I know better than to do this, it is almost impossible to keep your mind from going there. I feel like it is a constant internal battle between what my mind knows and what my heart wants. A lot of the time, my heart wins. I picture my heart as this hopeless romantic. It doesn’t matter how many times it breaks, it still holds out hope time after time. My mind is the rational one; it is the little cricket on my shoulder that brings me back to reality. The more I allow myself to invest in the dream that this is the month, the harder the blow is when I find out otherwise. Even though it hurts, I’m grateful that I’m still hopeful. This process can easily numb you and even after 18 cycle months that have resulted in 15 negatives and a miscarriage, I still have the strength and hopefulness in my heart to try again. That’s not to say though, that if I don’t get my desired positive on Monday that I won’t be curled up in a blanket, shedding a few tears. After my short pity party, I’ll gather my composure and call the doctor to schedule my day 3 ultrasound and start focusing on the next treatment cycle. And then…I’ll do this all over again. BUT, lets hope this is lucky number 18 ;)