When I was in my first years of high school I was always known more as the funny one rather than the pretty one. I was always just friends with the boys n for the most part I didn’t really mind. I was always a bit different and had this huge ginger mane that I had no clue what to do with. I had the fortune of having the nickname of Sideshow Bob.
I remember Valentine’s Day coming round and always knowing that I probably wouldn’t get a card. I wasn’t massively bothered but still, I kind of hoped. Let myself get clouded by the false hope and would become a little bit excited. Then I’d tell myself that it didn’t matter. It was only a fucking card Nicola!
When I turned 15, I went to the Under-18 clubs, learned that I had to put product in my hair, grew boobs and got a boyfriend.
I’d waited a few years for my Valentine’s cards then suddenly found myself surrounded by them (OK.. well I got a few, they weren’t exactly dripping from the ceiling)
This is pretty much how I feel about the whole trying to conceive cycle. Like I’m waiting and hoping to just get pregnant, knowing deep down that I prob won’t be getting the positive just yet. Letting the false hope get the better of me.
Then the babies turn up everywhere. Babies and bumps on every corner. I’m surrounded. The only difference is that these ones aren’t for me.
I know that one day I’m going to get what I’ve been waiting for.. it just feels like I’m back in school again, feeling a bit left out.
(Yeah…My period turned up today. Just to clarify that)
I broke my phone and laptop about 2 weeks ago so I was kind of shut out from my writing. Well aside from using pen and paper. Maybe it was a good thing though.
Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying writing is a bad thing; it’s saved me from be venturing into some dark places… but maybe subconsciously I haven’t allowed myself to get stressed because I knew there wasn’t my normal place to vent?
I haven’t got my hopes up this month. Not entirely anyway. There’s always a small hope hanging over me when my period hasn’t turned up.
So far I’ve had zero symptoms. No painful boobs, no cramps (a few a week ago but I think that might actually have been an upset tummy as opposed to my implantation hopes!) No tiredness, nothing.
That means nothing though. I don’t know why I continue to symptom spot. It never ends well.
It’s been a strange week.
On Friday I took my mum for afternoon tea at Loch Lomond, played crazy golf with Kian and Nikki on the Saturday and had dinner plans on Sunday.
It was a good weekend. I had lie-ins, I ate chocolate, drank wine and laughed a lot (my husband was responsible for most of that).
But there’s still this small niggly feeling way down in the pit of my stomach. I’m still gutted I’m not pregnant. It’s still on my mind. I can’t help it.
Ovulation week is next week (whoa when did that creep up?) Every month, I cant wait for my fertile week to come. It’s a chance to try again. But then I feel anxious because, well – I NEED TO TRY AGAIN!
I think we’ll stick with the testing for a while longer. I kind of liked the validation of knowing for sure when I was ovulating. Or maybe I just liked seeing a positive.