One thing I know

Trying to make a baby is one of the hardest things I've ever attempted in my life. Learning new jobs and undertaking new hobbies has always come naturally and easily. But trying to get my body to do something that it's supposedly built to do has led me down a long, lonely, and disappointing path.

I'm only mentioning this now because I'm at the end of yet another cycle. And, since it's the end of the cycle, obviously I'm not pregnant. It's the fifth unsuccessful one since Ryan. Five chances that flew right out the window despite my and Mike's best attempts at creating a sibling for Ryan.

And, adding to my frustration, I can feel the internal rumblings of Auntie Flo and her forces planning their attack, just in time to spoil this evening's anniversary celebration.

Boo. Hiss.

Of course I expected her to show up with her usual impeccable timing, but I was really hoping that, since it's our third anniversary - the first since losing Ryan - and the day before Ryan's half-year birthday, the Gods would be somewhat gracious - and maybe even take pity on us - and bless us with another soul.

No such luck.

I have really tried to remain optimistic these past few months, but I have nothing but disappointments that I'm trying to build hope from. That's a pretty shaky foundation to build anything upon. I've been pregnant three times; I've lost three babies.

Mike and I have been trying to start our family almost from the moment we exchanged our "I-do's." And, since that day, which seems to be the pinnacle of our lives, we've suffered more disappointments than I care to recall at the moment. I truly thought the innocence and pure happiness that surrounded us on that beautiful day three years ago would follow us throughout our lives.

I couldn't have been more wrong about that fairy tale. But, at least I know my body well enough to know that the monthly revolt will be underway shortly.