The Art of Being Not Hopeful

There is an art form

 that I think I may never master.

 It's called being Not Hopeful. 

 And I suck at it.

  

 I do all the things the doctor tells me

 I look at the calendar and calculate days

 I pray almost constantly

 and we try.

 and we try.

 and we try.

 And every month I get disappointed.

 And angry at my body.

 Angry at this process.

 That seems so easy for everyone around me.

 Some days it's harder than others,

 especially now when so many of our friends

 are finding out if it's pink or blue for them.

 As overjoyed as I get for them,

 I still can't help but get jealous.

 Wow that sounds horrible.

 It's not that I'm not happy for everyone else,

 it's just that I spend every day wondering

 how it feels to see a + on a stick

 instead of always a big fat NOT.

 I wonder how it feels to call friends and family,

 and look at cribs and carseats in stores,

 because I actually need them,

 and not just because I wish I did.

 And this month,

 just like every month,

 I find myself getting hopeful.

 The other day, I went to change and I bumped my chest and it hurt,

 when I woke up in the morning on Monday I threw up, and I never do,

 I'm so tired even after a full night's sleep I have to have a nap.

 Since I came off my pill I also haven't had a cycle ever go past 20 days. 

 I'm on day 23 now.

 But I'm so irregular I don't know if I'm technically "late".

 BE says, "oh, you must be pregnant!"

 God do I hope.

 But I don't know.

 It might just be all this stress that is causing it all.

 and no baby.

 I have an appointment again on the 17th

 and if I haven't started yet I will ask for a blood test.

 But the waiting until then is going to kill me.

 Can God not tell when I fall to my knees and cry and beg

 how badly I want this?

 I know it's not decided on my time,

 but still.

 I wish I could learn the art of being Not Hopeful.