It's been a really hard year.

"If I were a mother, I wouldn't take a single moment of my child's life for granted. I'd be grateful for every second they whined or cried or got sick or talked back to me. I'd cherish every second they were home during the summer and I'd miss them every second they were away at school. "  -Colleen Hoover, All Your Perfects

It's been a hard year.

The end of March 2019 will mark one year of trying to conceive our first baby.

It took me a really long time to finally be "ready" to start trying. We got married in November of 2016 and shortly after something in me just clicked. After years of putting babies on the back-burner to pursue my career and preventing pregnancy through several methods, I literally woke up one day wanting a child more than anything I have ever wanted in my entire life. But yet,  when it came time to stop taking my birth control I couldn't. I had never felt so conflicted in my life. I wanted to be a mother so badly but I also wanted to achieve my last major career goal, which was to pass my BCBA exam and begin working as a behavior analyst in the field. I knew going through that process would be extremely strenuous either pregnant or with a child so I chose once again to focus on my career. I found out that I passed my exam in September 2017. Finally, in February 2018 I stopped taking birth control after almost 7 years. We started trying to conceive the month after, not too long after originally starting this blog.

I remember that weekend perfectly. It was in Portland, Maine, my birthday weekend getaway, that we consciously started trying for our baby. We were so happy and excited. We couldn't wait to be parents. That whole weekend was spent scheming grand plans for pregnancy reveals, outings, experiences, nursery ideas, photos, our life as Mommy and Daddy. It was the happiest weekend of my life, and I'm pretty sure my husband would say the same. We had no idea that almost a year later I still wouldn't be pregnant. The irony of panicking about pregnancy prevention for so long only to struggle when you try with everything you have is not lost to me.

I know in the grand scheme of "infertility", 10 months without success is nothing. I am well aware doctors don't diagnose you with infertility until after 12 months of trying. I have heard the stories about couples who are trying or have tried for years and still nothing has come from it and they resort to medical intervention. But, I still can't help feel heartbroken month after month, when my period comes and decides to not stay away for 9 months so my baby can develop and grow inside my stomach. Going into month 11 of of TTC, my concerns have slowly morphed into lowkey panic and maybe even depression. Is there something wrong with me? With my husband? Is my weight a factor? Do I have PCOS? Is this God's way of telling me I'm not ready for this? The thoughts and doubts go on and on.

Then, there's the confusion of the whole process. Have you ever researched the term "TTC"? There are more acronyms, tips, tools. and time sensitive deadlines than I could ever have imagined. I've never Googled so much in my life, and that is saying something because it's usually my lifeline for all things. I've tried a few rounds of ovulation tests, but honestly they have been a huge stressor and haven't been accurate. User error, I'd assume. Wondering if we merely "missed" my ovulation day(s) literally keeps me up at night. How do we keep messing this up?

At the same time, I am trying my best to stay positive, and most days I try not to think about it. That helps a lot and it prevents me from obsessing over my fertility. At the moment we are playing the waiting game in cycle 10. Did it work this month? I guess we'll find out in 1-2 weeks. I know deep down I was meant to be a mother. I guess at this point I am just having a difficult time accepting the timeline of my life. This whole experience has been the hardest lesson in patience that I have ever gone through.

Thinking back over the past 10 months, I think May was the most heartbreaking month we had. My period is extremely regular, yet by Mother's Day I was a whole week late. My husband and I were so sure I was pregnant. He rubbed and kissed my belly so many times that weekend. The day I went to take a pregnancy test, I got my period. I felt as if my whole world crashed around me. How could I be grieving, when in reality there was no "loss" to grieve? I stayed in bed for a couple days after that, consumed by so many mixed emotions. Grief, confusion, devastation, guilt.

The guilt has been the most confusing emotion in the bunch. Guilt over not taking care of my body, stopping Weight Watchers when I was doing so well, gaining the weight back, wondering if that is why my body won't give me a pregnancy. I feel guilty that I have been thinking of sex as a chore, questioning if I have become a burden to my husband, if he feels rejected when I turn down sex. It is endless. There is no way to even list all of the thoughts that spring to me on the daily.

At the end of the day, I am so grateful that I have my husband. It's us against the world right now, and I don't know where I would be without him. No matter what, we will figure this out together.

I don't know if I was able to intelligently express my feelings surrounding my fertility and our difficult journey to become parents. Writing it down has been extremely cathartic. It has helped me... process. Feel. Accept. Cope.

I just thought I'd be pregnant by now... and honestly, nothing can fill that void. 

Thank you for listening.