The day that never was. I have found myself keeping busy all day to clear my head and though I feel like I want to cry, I'm not sure I have any tears left since I've shed so many in the last 6 months.
I thought I'd be pregnant by now. I convinced myself I probably would be because why would life be so cruel yet again? I'm not. I've asked thousands of times into empty space, "Why us?" I've concluded that there is no answer to that, we were just one of the unlucky 1 in 4 statistic.
I've pictured myself in a life that could have been either already nursing a newborn, screaming in a delivery room or impatiently waiting to meet my child. Those are the 3 in 4 options, yet I was dealt the hand of sadness of the what never was. Instead, I find myself dipping an ovulation stick at 6.30am, waiting for cd21 to ovulate, knowing that I'm only on cd13 but I still have to test, just in case I ovulate early. I never do. Taking my temperature as I do every morning and have done since September 2018. Miscarriage has changed my body; I now have longer cycles, longer periods and ovulate later. All of these negative impacts on top of the feelings of loss.
I've thought of the moment that we were told, "There's no heartbeat" so many times. Not even a sorry. In that moment I felt my own heart thumping through my chest and wondered how could the heart have stopped beating when mine was racing so fast? It could beat for both of us.
When will it be our turn? When will our rainbow come? I've tried to stay hopeful but my hopes have been dashed since 13th April 2019.