The anticipation as you wait to see if even the faintest second pink line will appear on a plastic stick is almost more torture than a broken bone.
The timer is set, we wait. Three minutes go by - nothing! Yet again. I wish I could say after all these years that it didn't hurt me so badly, but I would be lying.
Sometimes I feel like less of a woman because I can't carry a little life inside of me. I long for the day when I can feel the kicks of tiny feet from the inside, the morning sickness, the back pain, restless nights, dirty diapers, laughs, giggles, tiny feet and tiny hands. My heart feels like a piece of it is missing without these things.
Struggling with PCOS, infertility and depression isn't the best combo. I pray that God delivers me from the silent pain that I live in every single day. I pray that I can be a light to others and just let them know that they are not alone in the struggle and in the pain.
Every missing line, every false test, every tear that is cried - it's a symbol of the love that a woman has for her unconceived child. We may not yet be blessed with a child but our heart already loves it more than life.
Some day my little one, some day.
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